Page 19 of Depths of Obsession (The Emerald Dagger Mafia #2)

CHAPTER 19

A bsentmindedly, I stroke Luca’s chest as I rest my head on his pec, feeling his warmth seep into me. My body aches, but it’s the kind of pain that leaves me satisfied, a reminder of what we’ve shared. The magic cream he applied to the sorest parts of me has worked wonders, soothing every part of me. I still can't believe how much I love having sex with him, how much I crave his touch, even after everything.

“What are you thinking about, little one?” Luca’s deep voice rumbles beneath my ear, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Can’t you tell?” I tease, my lips curving up slightly.

“No,” he says, chuckling. “Vampires don’t read minds. Or at least, I don’t. I can’t speak for all vampires—we each seem to have our own unique abilities.”

I lift my head and peer up at him. “Hmm… what are yours, besides flying and your heightened senses?”

He smirks, his emerald eyes glinting with mischief. “Now where’s the fun in telling you? Wouldn’t you rather learn along the way… Keep the mystery alive?”

I push myself up, sitting back against the headboard, and give him a pointed look. “I don’t need any more surprises in my life.”

His brow furrows, the playfulness in his expression fading. “I know finding out I’m a vampire is hard, but?—”

“Honestly?” I interrupt, shaking my head. “That’s the least of it.” I let out a long breath, my shoulders sagging.

Luca flips onto his side, resting his head on his hand, his eyes locked on mine. “Tell me.” His voice is soft, inviting, and for once, it’s not a command—it’s a request, a plea. He really wants to understand.

I lick my lips, unsure of where to begin. “I’ve never spoken about it all before,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. I feel vulnerable, raw. But then Luca reaches out, his hand warm rests on my thigh, his touch grounding me. That small gesture sends a wave of warmth through me, a safety I’ve never known.

I take a shaky breath. “The first time my father hit my mother, I was only eight. It was such a shock to me. I just didn’t expect it. We were all joking around in the kitchen, and he made some comment. She sassed him back, and he slapped her. Told her she was never allowed to talk back to him, not ever. I remember it because she looked so… so stunned, like she couldn’t believe it either. Later that night, I heard them arguing, and God, the sound of his fist hitting her soft flesh…” My voice wavers, and I look away, the memory sharp, like broken glass digging into my skin. “He said the most awful things to her.” I shudder, draw a deep breath and continue. “I was only about eight. Home for summer break. I just… I couldn’t believe it.”

Luca's hand tightens gently on my thigh. “I’m so sorry, little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “That must have been so traumatic.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “The worst part was the next day. It was like it had never happened. They acted like everything was fine, like we were still this perfect family. We were going to the summer house, and everything was all smiles and laughter. I should’ve known better.”

“You were eight, Pippa,” Luca says gently. “You shouldn’t have had to know better.”

I smile, but it’s brittle, fragile. “The first time he hit me, I was twelve. He wanted me to go to some party—a kid’s birthday, someone I’d never even met. He had to go because of his position, and he wanted me to come along. But I’d just gotten my period, and I felt miserable, so I asked to stay home. He said no, and I started crying. He slapped me, told me to smarten up and be strong.” I swallow hard, the memory vivid, my cheek almost stinging with the ghost of the blow.

Luca doesn’t say anything, but his body vibrates with emotion, likely anger. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark with fury. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my palm, and the tenderness of the gesture melts some of the ice in my chest, warming me enough to finish the story.

“Anyway, it was always a surprise,” I continue, my voice breaking. “I never knew when it was coming. He’d be fine one minute and an ogre the next. I stopped wanting to come home. My poor mother had to live with it every day. She couldn’t escape. She tried once, but he found her and dragged her back. He beat her so badly she was in bed for a week. She told everyone she’d been in a car accident, that she’d totaled her car. I didn’t find out the truth until I came home that summer. I found her car in the garage, covered in dust. There wasn’t a scratch on it.”

The weight of guilt settles over me, suffocating, making every breath painful. “Is my mother okay?” I ask, my voice cracking. “I feel horrible that I haven’t called her. I don’t even know what to say. It’s my fault?—”

Luca presses his fingers over my lips, silencing me. “None of this is your fault,” he says firmly, his eyes blazing with conviction. “Absolutely none of it. You will not take the blame for your father’s actions. He was a narcissistic bastard, and the world is better off without him. If he were still alive, I’d kill him again, gladly.”

A thought occurs to me, and it’s so absurd I almost laugh. “Is that even possible?” I ask. “I mean, Mia mentioned there are all kinds of magical creatures. Could you bring back the dead?” I watch Luca's face, and despite everything, I feel a flicker of curiosity.

He smiles, and it makes my heart squeeze. I love his smile—it’s genuine, and it always reaches his eyes. “Truthfully? Yes, you can bring back the dead. But it’s a nasty business, and it’s not easy.” His smile turns into a smirk. “Would you like me to bring your father back just so I can kill him again?”

His tone is serious, and I realize he’s genuinely asking. “Would you do that if I asked?” I stare at him, stunned.

“Of course,” he says, his voice soft. “I’d do anything for you.” He kisses my palm again, and warmth spreads through me, chasing away the chill from old memories. “It would take some doing, but it’s manageable. Mostly.”

A laugh bursts out of me, but then I frown. What kind of person am I that I enjoy that thought? Does that make me horrible?

Luca studies me, his eyes softening. “It’s not wrong to think that way,” he says quietly. “I’m sure you’d love to kill him over and over again, until you feel better, until you’ve exorcised all the pain he caused. But the truth is, Pippa, that would never happen. Bringing him back to kill him all over again won’t make you happier. He’s not the problem anymore. The issue now is dealing with the aftermath, feeling everything you’ve bottled up. It’s going to take time.”

I sigh, nodding. He’s right. Bringing my father back wouldn’t help me, not really. But still… “It does have a certain appeal,” I admit, giving him a small, teasing smile.

He grins, his eyes brightening. “So, my sweet little one is bloodthirsty. Perfect. My favorite kind.”

I laugh, the sound easing some of the tension between us. It’s so easy to be here, in bed with Luca. Everything else seems so distant, so unimportant.

“Where were you going?” he asks, his tone suddenly serious.

“Going?” I frown, confused.

“When you ran out of the club, where were you and Luna going?”

My heart skips a beat. Coughing with the sudden dryness in my mouth, I hesitate, buying time to come up with an excuse. But I can’t lie to him. He deserves better than that. I let out a deep sigh. “We were running away.”

“I thought as much.” Luca sits up, leaning back against the headboard beside me. “Why?”

“Because la famiglia is stuck in the 1950s,” I say, bitterness lacing my words. “Not for the men, of course, but for the women? It’s brutal.”

“Explain.” His voice is calm, and I know he’s trying to understand. I also know he is hurt that I was planning to run.

“Luca, you don’t understand the pressure on me, on Mia, on Luna. Our parents demand we make good matches, that we marry well to maintain our family’s status. We aren’t allowed to live our lives like normal people. We’re always under scrutiny. That’s why our parents sent us away to school—it was the kindest thing they ever did. They said it was for security reasons, but when I got older, I understood the truth. If we weren’t in Italy, we weren’t in the fishbowl. People might gossip, but we weren’t under anyone’s nose. It’s all about appearances—keeping up the pretense no matter what.”

“But you were here during the summers,” Luca says, his brow furrowing. “You said you loved summers here.”

I shake my head. “I loved summers at the summer house. It’s on Lake Lugano, on the Swiss side. Once again, we were far from prying eyes. We didn’t have to play perfect daughters. We could just… breathe. But once Mia married Renzo and our fathers lost their influence, it only made things worse for me and Luna. My suffering at my father’s hands might be over, but Luna is still struggling. That’s why we were leaving.”

Luca frowns. “I’m not seeing it.”

“Before Mia married Renzo, our fathers were important men. Luna and I were considered good matches. But once Mia got engaged, everything changed. No one else could announce an engagement until after Mia and Renzo were married. Their marriage resulted in our fathers losing their standing, and we lost our value. Luna and I were no longer desirable. It put immense pressure on us. Luna’s father is still angry about it. She says there’s something he’s keeping from her, something bad. She wanted to run, and I… I wanted to run too, to escape all of it.”

“So, you feel trapped in a life you don’t want.”

“Exactly. We don’t care about la famiglia, not like Mia. She’s embraced it, but Luna and I… we want out. Marrying Gazzago would be a death sentence for me. I wouldn’t survive that.”

Luca studies me, his expression darkening, and I know something’s wrong.

“What?” My stomach churns as dread creeps in. “What are you not telling me?”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Renzo has agreed that Gazzago can take you as collateral until the marriage. He says Gazzago is owed, and he’ll take you to his place, but won’t marry you until an acceptable mourning period has passed.”

“No!” I scream, jumping up onto my knees. “No fucking way, Luca! I won’t do it!”

Luca grabs my hands, his eyes intense. “I will not let that happen. You have to trust me.”

I stare at Luca, his words echoing in my head. “But what can you do?”

His eyes hold mine, his expression unwavering. “I can marry you.”

I’m speechless. I search those emerald eyes, so mysterious and sincere, looking for any hint of hesitation, any doubt. “But Luca… I mean… we’ve just started. We can’t get married. Your brother will kill you.”

“He may try,” Luca says, his voice full of determination, “but I think he’ll find it much harder than he thinks. I will not let you be married off to that pathetic old man. I refuse. We will marry, and then you’ll never have to worry about it again.”

My chest tightens, my mind spinning with the weight of his words. “But Luca, how can we just go and get married like this? You barely know me. Why would you do that for me?”

Luca’s gaze softens, and he reaches out, brushing his fingers across my cheek. “I told you there were consequences to being in my bed. This is one of them. You are mine, but I am also yours. I will not let you suffer.”

I shake my head, a mix of fear and something else—something that feels suspiciously like hope—rising in me. “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself like that. I don’t want to be the cause of strife in your family. There has to be another way. I’d rather marry Gazzago than let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

The room seems to darken as Luca’s eyes blaze with fury. “You will not!” His voice is thunderous, his anger like a storm about to break.

I flinch, my pulse racing. But a new understanding dawns on me. “Luca? What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. His shoulders sag, and for the first time, he looks almost weary. “Many years ago, I knew a girl,” he begins, his voice softer now, seeming to be. filled with recalled pain. “Her name was Vittoria—Vittoria Sartorre. Back then, girls were expected to be women by the time they were in their mid-teens. Not unlike what you’re describing now—there were expectations, but there were no other choices. Not really.”

He pauses, his gaze growing distant, as if he’s looking back through the years. “Vittoria and I were friends. Not lovers—I was still figuring out what being a vampire meant, still struggling to keep my secret. Vittoria was like a little sister to me. She had this way of laughing at me, of calling me out when I was being an ass. Most wouldn’t dare, but she did. My family had power back then, and I was treated differently, like I could do no wrong. But Vittoria… she never let me get away with anything. That’s why I liked her, I suppose.”

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “She had the biggest blue eyes, full of innocence and hope. They sparkled when she laughed.” He shakes his head, his expression tightening. “Her parents arranged for her to marry an older man—a powerful, well-respected man. They thought they were doing the best they could for her. But I knew… I knew something was off about him. There were rumors, whispers of what he was capable of. But he was a powerful nobleman, and no one would come out and say anything openly.”

His voice catches, and he looks away, his jaw clenched. “Vittoria wasn’t happy. She begged me to help her. She’d heard the same things others had, and she was frightened. But I was, for all intents and purposes, in my early twenties, though in reality, I was over a hundred years old. I couldn’t tell anyone that, and I didn’t have the power to stop the match myself.”

He pauses, and I see a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I tried to get my father to intervene, to convince her family it was a bad match. But he said the affairs of her family weren’t our concern. He told me the only way to save her was to marry her myself. I remember balking at the idea. As a young vampire, I couldn’t imagine tying myself to a human. I was still learning the best ways to survive, still figuring out what it meant to be one of us. How could I do that if I had Vittoria following me around, slowing me down? The world was mine for the taking—I didn’t want a wife holding me back.”

He shakes his head, his eyes haunted. “Vittoria begged me to run away with her, to marry her so she could live her life freely. But I refused. I just… I couldn’t see how it would work. Who I was back then is not who I am now.” His green gaze lifts to mine then drops away, back into the past her was reliving.

He takes a deep breath, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “The image of Vittoria’s face at her wedding is seared into my memory. Her smile was brittle, her eyes shadowed with fear, though she tried to hide it. She told me she’d made peace with it, that I shouldn’t worry about her. She got married, and they went on a honeymoon—two months traveling across Europe. It was what people did back then.”

Luca’s eyes turn hollow, the weight of old guilt pressing down on him. “I wished her well, moved on, and tried not to think of her until I ran into her a year later. She wasn’t the same. Her spirit was broken, her light snuffed out. She was bitter, angry. She blamed me for what had happened to her. Her husband had beaten her. She’d already lost a child.” His voice cracks. “I felt horrible, but I was powerless. I could’ve killed her husband, but he was an important man, and his death would’ve led to an investigation. Killing him to save her would have been too risky. I wasn’t experienced enough to get away with murdering someone like him. I never saw her again. I heard that she ran away, but others said she died.”

The pain in Luca’s voice is palpable, raw. His eyes meet mine, and I see his guilt, his regret. “And you feel guilty,” I whisper, my heart sinking. “You could’ve saved her, but you didn’t.”

He doesn’t respond, but the look in his eyes says enough. I feel my chest tighten painfully, my throat constricting with the idea that I could be consigned to the same fate as Vittoria. I had been so hopeful—hopeful that Luca wanted to marry me because he wanted me, because I meant something to him. But now I see it—he’s marrying me because he feels guilty, about being unable to save Vittoria. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

Realization churns in my stomach and I feel ill. Tears prick at my eyes and I bite my lip hard, trying to keep them from falling. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t the reason I wanted him to want me. I look away, my heart heavy with disappointment. I am not going to be a stand-in for a problem he couldn’t fix years ago. I’d rather run than be another human he’s saddled with until I die. It would bring a whole new meaning to a fate worse than death.