Chapter 2
Pietro
I leave the library with the intention of heading home, but a message from Giovanni changes that. Sighing, I throw my laptop bag onto the passenger seat and slide into my car. At least going over there means I get to see Lucy.
Who am I kidding? I practically live over there anyway. Two years ago I decided I wanted my own space, so I rented my apartment. I thought some distance between Lucy and me would help. And it did, in the beginning. Now I find myself over there as much as I was when I lived there. Some days I stay over in my old room because it’s convenient and because waking up and seeing her first thing in the morning is something I crave.
Since the very first day I stepped foot into her home, I knew there was something special about her. As the years passed and we grew older and closer, those feelings intensified. Every moment I spend thinking about her is a moment that distracts me from my own life. In some weird way, it’s like she saved me from spiraling out of control after my parents died.
I turn into the long paved driveway as the huge mansion comes into sight. A chill races down my spine, as it does every time I see the exterior. Suddenly I’m fifteen again and alone, my soul empty and my heart broken.
I park the car, taking a deep breath, then walk across the lush green lawns to the front door. Inside, I’m greeted by silence. I make my way over to Giovanni’s office, knocking gently on the closed door.
“You wanted to speak to me?” I ask, edging the door open. Giovanni nods and waves me in. I enter, closing the door behind me.
“I wanted to talk to you about Lucia,” he says, folding his arms over his broad chest.
My throat tightens as I sit down.
He couldn’t know, could he?
After so many years of being in love with her, I was the master of disguising my feelings. No matter how much time I spent with her, it never got easier, nor did my feelings wane. She was the only woman in the world for me—and the only woman I knew I could never have. I’d come to accept that it was what it was. But if Giovanni knew how I felt about his only daughter, who knew what he’d do? I’d seen him kill a man with his bare hands; the fact that I was like a son to him would only add to the betrayal I know he would feel.
“What about her?” I ask, forcing myself to meet his penetrating eyes, almost black in color.
“She’s been very distant the last few weeks. I thought she might have said something to you. She trusts you. You’re like a brother to her.”
I wince. Like a brother. I never wanted her to feel that way. I’d rather she not think of me at all than see me like that.
“You know she’s been studying hard for her exams. And not to mention it’s that time of year again—”
Giovanni’s head bows as he exhales slowly.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own emotions today, I didn’t stop to think how she’d be feeling.”
The anniversary of her mother’s death was today. Every year my heart ached as I watched her struggle silently through the pain. The worst thing was wanting to help her, but knowing there was nothing I could do. Except be there for her. As a friend.
“She went to New York today,” Giovanni adds, with a frown. “You know anything about that?”
“No. How do you even know that?” I laugh. “You have her followed or something?”
“Of course not,” he replies, his voice gruff. “I have a tracking device on her phone. What?” he adds, shrugging. “I won’t apologize for ensuring my daughter’s safety.”
I shake my head and laugh. I love Giovanni, but sometimes he really is too much. Only Giovanni wouldn’t see a problem with spying on his adult daughter.
“Did you try calling her?” I ask cautiously.
“Of course I did. She flat-out lied to me, said she and Bella were shopping.” He says Bella like uttering the word causes him pain. I resist the urge to laugh again. Bella is a good kid. She’s feisty and loud, but sometimes I think that’s exactly what Lucy needs. Someone who
is going to force her out of her shell.
“You know she’s a good girl. Lucy will tell you what’s going on when she’s ready.” I pause before adding, “You need to trust her, Giovanni. If you don’t loosen the reins at least a little, you’ll end up driving her away.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he rises from his chair and waves his arm at me, indicating our time together is over. Hesitating, I remain seated. If I don’t ask this now I never will.
“I need to ask you something,” I mutter. Giovanni turns and stares at me, as if surprised I’m still in the room. I force myself to continue before I lose my nerve. “My parents’ death. I believe you know more than you’ve led me to believe.”
I know he knows more, but whether or not he’ll tell me is a different story.