Luca (I Love the Way You Lie #1) (27 page)

Luca stopped by NYCWCC with a check from the gala. I knew he felt bad about being part of the reason we left so abruptly. I did feel bad, but only for the fact that I didn’t get to see everything he clearly worked so hard on and put into motion. He was generous, giving, kind, thoughtful, and compassionate. And I was utterly mesmerized by him. Clients, philanthropists, and corporate representatives donated to our cause. In turn, we were fully funded. He had the unbelievable ability of encouraging people to dig deep into their pockets.

It was barely a month after the gala, and NYCWCC was opened to the community. We had a yellow ribbon cutting ceremony with the mayor, and local news outlets picked up the story. Mel and I were excited, and more than a little overwhelmed. However, it was clear we needed help, so we hired a couple of college kids to intern for community hours and small pay. Friday, we were having a small, catered gathering to celebrate, and invited some of our largest donors to attend. We didn’t want anything fancy, but felt it was necessary to celebrate that life was good, NYCWCC was operational, hard work pays off, and everything was…perfect.

“That silly grin is killing me, smalls. What’s up?” Mel asked, looking up from the catering menu.

“Nothing, just thinking.” I shrugged. Then I realized my computer monitor wasn’t turned on. I turned it on and waited for the screen to come to life.

She sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Let me guess, Luca?”

I shook the mouse and clicked on the file I needed to open. “Maybe.”

“Ha! I guess I’d have a smile permanently plastered across my face with all of that fucking hot goodness, too. You really lucked out, chick. I swear to god,” she said enviously. “Not one but two gorgeous men who think you’re their center of gravity. It’s just not fair.” She stuck her tongue out and I smiled.

“Only one matters, Mel. Only one…” I meant it, too. While the wound was still fresh from Oliver, I never promised him or led him to believe we would have a future. However, the pain still radiated through me about how things went down. I took a cleansing breath.

Amanda, one of our new interns, turned from her desk. “Oliver Sven’s ripping it up in LA. He’s been all over the tabloids. Don’t you watch TMZ?” she asked, canting her head.

No, I didn’t watch TMZ. Who had time for television these days? Mel was shaking her head at the intern, trying to get her attention. Now, I was curious what the fuck was going on.

“Pull it up online for me,” I asked Amanda, who starting clicking wildly. She turned her screen to face me. I grabbed my coffee, rolled my chair, and scooted over to her station. “What in the world? He looks wasted. He doesn’t party anymore. He’s been clean for years,” I said, meeting Mel’s eyes, but she looked back down at the brochure.

“He does now.” Amanda shrugged sadly.

“Potato croquettes…everyone loves those, right?” Mel asked in an effort to change the subject. “Two half-trays should be good. Yep, adding that now.”

I scrutinized Mel carefully and then turned my attention to the picture of a very wasted Oliver. He was passed out in a booth at a club. Half a bottle of JD in one hand and the other down some blonde’s top. Nice. Real fucking nice. I chewed the inside of my cheek, gnawing on the fact that one, Oliver relapsed, and two, last time he did it nearly cost him his life. And a tiny piece of me
was
jealous and angry. Not because I was in love with him…because I wasn’t. Luca owned that spot. However, we were good friends for all these years. He was always there for me, and now it felt shitty that I wasn’t there for him. Especially if he needed me. But his words were still fresh in my mind, along with a few unanswered texts. I closed out of the screen and scooted back to my desk, full of worry. Guilt twisted angrily and my eyes filled furiously with tears. I was a fucking therapist for fuck sake.

“I’ll reach out to him, Allison. In fact, I’ll do it now,” Mel said, grabbing her phone.

I smiled through the tears, silently thanking her. She feverishly tapped away on her phone and placed it back on her desk.

“This isn’t your fault. You know that, right? He’s an adult and has made the choice to use again. He could have made another choice like call his sponsor or go to a meeting…but he didn’t. It’s on him.” She paced in front of my desk, waving her hands.

I stared at her phone, willing it to ding from a text. But it never came, and the silence that engulfed me was maddening. I was quiet. Too quiet. It happened when I was stressed out or worried. Often, I retreated to my inner cocoon…needing the space to think. And, thankfully, Mel allowed me to disappear to that spot for comfort. I knew that unless that text eventually came, my worry would turn into something else—depression. I had no control over my emotions, and I could talk it out all I wanted. However, this was my struggle, and one I was intimately familiar with.

The rest of the day was spent on autopilot. We took in a family of three: a mom and her two boys. They needed a safe harbor from an abusive father, along with some legal advice about her rights. I reached out to our family court liaison and asked her to stop by after lunch. It was bad enough having to leave your home with two kids and no belongings. However, dragging them down to social services and family court was an excruciating experience. We set the boys up with transformer coloring books and sandwiches in the playroom. Then we offered the mom a cup of coffee and a shoulder to lean on. My worry now shifted to this family in need, and I spent the day trying to make their transition into safety as smooth as possible.

“I just want the pain to stop,” she said, crying. “I’m sick of my fucking life. The worry every day, fighting, wondering who was going to walk through the door: the animal or the man I married. And the boys… What kind of life it this for them? I can’t provide anything for them. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom.” She continued sobbing and I was thankful the boys were occupied in the back.

I handed her a box of tissues. “It’s time to take care of you and the boys. You did the right thing leaving. You had to…” She turned her face, ashamed, and I saw the fresh bruises on her neck.

“He’ll never let us leave, and when he finds me, he’s going to kill me. He’s said it before. I just know it.” She shook, her fear now paralyzing me.

“I’m going to call the police, and you’ll be safe here. I swear it,” I said, grabbing her hand. “I promise no harm will come to you or the boys.” I offered her a sandwich, but she couldn’t eat. That I got. Fuck, I was sick to my stomach, too. We all had struggles. Different demons that plagued our lives daily. However, I vowed to help this family get through theirs. I placed a call to a detective that Luca put me in touch with. He wasn’t happy about what I told him at all. In fact, he wanted to leave work. I assured him it was fine, and this was my business. This is what I was meant to do. Help, comfort, and offer a safe, secure place for people in need. It was my cross to bear,
not
his.

~~~

“What an intense fucking day. It went from bad to worse,” I said, filling my mouth with sushi. I was starved. Luca had picked up some sushi, surprising me with my favorite rolls. Excited, and thankful for his kindness, we sat on the floor, laying out the deliciousness in front of us. He poured me some wine and we just talked out our day.

“I know this is your baby, Allison, but I don’t have to like it,” he said, picking up his chopsticks. “I get wanting to help people. But I can’t help but question to what cost…your safety…your life?” His face was pained and full of concern.

I leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Mel and the girls are there.”

“Exactly, Mel and a few girls,” he fumed. “If this guy shows up…what are you going to do? You, Mel, and the girls? Shit. I’m hiring security. You need it, and it will give me a sliver of comfort.”

“While I’m all about your comfort,” I said snidely, “I’ve got this. He’ll never know where they are, and I’m not comfortable have security walking around the center. It may scare someone off.” I popped another piece into my mouth. “Let’s just say a woman stabbed her husband in self-defense. If she needs help, but thinks she’s going to get in trouble…she may not come in for help.”

Luca stood up and moved to the window, opening it slightly. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke through both his nose and mouth.

“When did you start smoking again?”

“Today.” His tone was ice-cold. “Want to guess why?” He quirked an eyebrow and waited. I knew why, because of me. He was worried, and that worry was enough to push him impulsively. The need was too great to resist.

I frowned, feeling awful. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not, because if you were, you’d let me help. Now I have to take it out on these cancer sticks.” He shrugged, leaving the guilt hanging in the air like Chernobyl smog. It wrapped around me, squeezing until I relented. I didn’t. No security.

I cleaned up, and from the corner of my eye, watched as he chain smoked most of the night away. He was on his cell most of the time and claimed it was something to do with work. However, I knew he was bothered enough to stay away from me. That bothered me. Then for the first time in what felt like forever, my eyes refused to shut, my heart raced, and sweat poured down my face. I got up for a drink and to throw some water on my face. Luca sat in the corner armchair, leg crossed over the other, scotch in one hand, and a clove cigarette in the other. His darkened silhouette illuminated slightly by the cherry of his cigarette.

“Fuck, you scared me,” I said, holding my chest.

“Sorry, can’t sleep. Besides, neither can you. I’ve been watching you try, though.” He smirked, shooting the rest of his scotch down his throat.

“No, I can’t,” I said, walking to get a drink. “Why aren’t you?” I called over my shoulder.

“The deal with Sterling is proving…challenging.” He had an oddness to his tone that I couldn’t place.

After grabbing a bottled water and washing my face, I returned and sat on the bed. “Challenging good or challenging bad?”

“Depends on how you look at it. My father wants me to let go of the idea of gaining Sterling. I don’t want to do that. I want it more. So…”

“I’d say listen to your father. He’s not someone to mess with. Let it go.” My mind was already made up. From the little I knew of his dad, he didn’t play nice, and neither did any of his associates. However, by the look of the rigid stature of Luca, he wasn’t going to back away from the deal. That wasn’t good. He had dug in. Why did it suddenly feel like everything was about to go wrong? Icy needles prickled at my skin. A numbness came over me.
Because, it probably will,
I thought…