Protected By the Monster

“I’m tired,” she said. “Might as well get this over with. Good night.” She walked to her door, threw it open, and slammed it shut behind her.

I stared at the closed door and shook my head. It was so frustrating that my mother was acting like this, like she had any say in this, like there was any other choice. She couldn’t just grin and bear it like I had been this whole time. Instead, she needed to throw a tantrum.

But as I stared at that door, I began to see how maybe, just maybe I’d been doing that same thing to Luca.

“Come on,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s go see where you’re staying.”

I looked at him and wanted to argue, but his smile made me reconsider. He turned and walked to my door, pulled it open, and flipped on the light. I followed him inside and stared around, my eyes wide with surprise.

It looked like a room in an upscale boutique hotel. There was a huge velvet couch with a couple chairs around a glass coffee table set in front of a tiled fireplace, probably fake, pressed up against the far right side. On the left was huge bed, flanked by nightstands. Four posts held up gauzy tulle curtains and looked like they could cover the bed in a mosquito net. A sideboard held alcohol bottles, and there was no television in sight, but there was a statue that looked like it might be worth more than my entire life sitting on a table against the far wall. A door cut into a marble-covered bathroom with gleaming fixtures, and a walk-in closet sat utterly empty except for two clothes hanger dangling at the far corner and an empty shoebox on the top shelf.

“Nice,” Luca said. He walked over to a sideboard covered in alcohol bottles and opened a bottle of something brown. He sniffed it, poured some into a glass, took a long sip. “Want some?”

“Please.”

He poured a second glass and handed it to me. I walked around the room, looking at the vases, the fake flowers, the leather-bound books lined up on a shelf.

“Do you think anyone ever uses this room?” I asked.

“No way,” he said. “This has to be the guest wing of the house.”

“But it’s spotless.” I ran a finger over a shelf. “No dust.”

“Good point. Probably has it cleaned twice a week, just in case.”

“Can you imagine being so rich?” I sipped the drink. Rough whiskey hit my tongue ad I barely managed to choke it down. I reminded myself to take a smaller sip next time, or maybe skip the alcohol entirely.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down at the end of the bed and bouncing a bit. “I can imagine it, but it’ll never happen.”

“You’re a mob guy.” I shrugged a little, splashed my drink. “Might happen for you.”

“Doubt it.” He looked at me, took a long sip, and shook his head. “I’ll always just be a weapon for these guys.”

I chewed on my lip and leaned against the back of the couch.

“You say things like that, but then you talk about how much you love the mafia,” I said. “I don’t get it at all.”

“It’s not all black and white,” he said. “Despite what you think.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I don’t get complexity.”

“You don’t seem to.” He tilted his head. “For example, this simmering sexual tension between us.”

I snorted, sipped my drink, coughed, felt like a moron.

“There’s no tension.”

“I think there is,” he said. “You let me kiss you earlier.”

“You practically stole it from me.”

“It wasn’t the first time.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked. “You want me to admit that I find you attractive?” I took another sip and managed not to make myself look like I’d never had a drink before in my life.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I want to hear it.”

I laughed for a second, thought he might be joking, but his face was serious.

“All right,” I said. “I find you attractive.”

“I find you attractive, too.”

“Great, we got that out in the open.” I held up my drink. “Here’s to the most fucked up part of this evening.”

He laughed softly, sipped his whiskey, and stood up. He walked over to the sideboard, finished his drink, put his empty glass down, and turned to me.

“What about this is so wrong?” he asked.

“You’re a murderous mafia guy,” I said, sipping my drink as he came toward me. “You killed men tonight. You forced my mom into coming here, even though she didn’t want to.”

“I killed men to protect you,” I said. “Not just for fun. I didn’t want to do any of that. And I brought your mom here because she’s safer in this house. Besides, I’m not the one that convinced her.”

“Fine,” I said. I finished the drink and held the empty glass tight, clenching it hard as the whiskey burned down my throat. “Fine, okay, I convinced her. But still, you… you killed men tonight.”