Page 78

Chapter seventy-seven

Samara

I ’ve never been to a wedding where I felt so many emotions, and it isn’t even the actual wedding day yet. I think I’ve fallen in love with this entire family, so much more than I’d ever intended to, and I can already feel the crushing weight on my shoulders at the idea of never seeing them again after this.

They’ve made me feel like I was a part of every detail, always remaining considerate of my wants and needs and never compromising them. It’s been an honor to get to know these people.

Arielle’s red hair swishes by as she joins me in the back of the dining hall, her bright-white smile plastered across her face. “Hey, mind if I pull you away for a few minutes? There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but I have a sneaking suspicion you’ve been avoiding me.” She smirks.

I don’t bother backpedaling; the lie would be evident. “Sure,” I tell her, following after her as she leads us down a paved, tree-lined path.

“Luca told me you found the article,” she says, surprising me because this is not where I’d expected the conversation to go.

“I did.” I tread lightly.

“He also said that he told you it wasn’t his story to tell.”

I nod, agreeing. He definitely had said that.

“That’s because it’s mine,” she says, stopping in the middle of the trail to face me.

What is that supposed to mean?

Before I can even ask her, she starts speaking, and I have a feeling my world is about to be tipped upside down.

“When I was sixteen, I ran away from home,” she says, a pink blotchy flush starting to spread over her chest. “My father was abusive, my mom was nowhere to be found, and I figured I’d be better off on my own. And I was,” she says with total certainty. “Until I met Jackson. He was charming and seemingly sweet, and of course, he let me move in with him. He made sure I had what I needed when I was with him, making it easy to strip me of everything I had for myself so I couldn’t leave him.” Her eyes turn glassy, and my throat feels tight. “Not easily anyway.” She pauses, assessing me before going on. “By the time I was seventeen, he’d let his mask dissolve entirely. He’d beat me and spit in my face. And one night, when I refused him, he beat me until I was nearly unconscious and forced himself on me.” She shakes her head, the memory of that night seeping into the forefront of her mind. I can tell it’s something she doesn’t think about often.

Unease spreads through me, hot tears pooling behind my eyes. An image of Cora flashes in my mind, and my heart wrenches with the thought.

I remain silent, allowing her the space she needs to tell her story or to stop if she no longer feels comfortable.

“He left me like that. Discarded by a dumpster, like trash.” Her voice wobbles, and it sucks the last remnants of air from my lungs. “Dante found me when he was on his way home from a class at the university. He’d taken some late classes so he could be home during the day to help take care of things for Gloria, take her to appointments, and bring Gianni and Charlie to school, after-school clubs, and sports,” she explains, a small, sad smile turning her lips. “When he found me, he tried to call the police, but I lost it on him.” She shakes her head. “I refused to let law enforcement get involved. I was less than two weeks away from turning eighteen, and if the police found out, I’d have been returned to my father. One abuser to the next and back. I wasn’t having it.

“He took me to his apartment, let me get cleaned up, gave me some of his sister’s clothes, and tried like hell to get me to report it, but I wouldn’t.” Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it. I don’t like that this is so painful for her. “My only compromise was that I let him take me to the women’s shelter.”

I reach out for her hand, and she gives it a gentle tug. “You really don’t have to tell me all this. Luca was right; it wasn’t his story to tell, and I don’t need you to relive your trauma to get your point across,” I tell her.

My stomach is churning with bile. This story sounds so familiar.

My heart aches at the thought of Cora. She never got to see what life free of abuse could look like. Not like Arielle has. And this incredible life Arielle has with Dante and their kids—it’s everything I could’ve wanted for Cora.

“I want you to hear this, Samara. I promise,” she says, her voice cracking again. When I don’t try to interrupt her, she continues.

“A few weeks later, things were better. I was able to stay at the shelter, and they helped me figure out a plan for getting my GED and finding a job so I could get out of there. Then my period never came, and I hoped and prayed like hell that it was just the stress.”

“But it wasn’t.” I breathe, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, the loose red curls dancing in the setting sun. “It wasn’t,” she confirms. “I took a pregnancy test, and another, and probably five or six more after that. Every one of them told me a truth I had no interest in believing. And when I didn’t know what to do, I tried to find Dante again. He’d made me feel safe.” She averts her gaze for a moment before finding mine again, her wide blue eyes acting like a window to her soul. “Safer than anyone ever had in my life, and he’d only known me for a few short hours. But when I got to his place, it wasn’t him who opened the door.”

A slight smile grazes her lips. “A tall, lanky Luca had answered the door, and when he saw me sobbing, he tried to make a joke about how out of all his brothers, Dante wasn’t usually the one who left the ladies crying on his doorstep. And, of course, that made me cry more because my brain was fried. I was just so tired. I couldn’t even explain who I was, and when I tried to leave, he convinced me to come inside. And again, I felt so safe with him. It was different with Luca. Like my soul had already known that Dante was the one for me, but that Luca was an extension of that, and that I’d be safe with him too.” God, I hate how I know that feeling too. “I shouldn’t have felt safe with anyone after what I’d gone through, but there’s just something about those damn De Laurentiis boys,” she says, the corner of her lips curving in a smirk.

Don’t I know it?

“Luca brought me in, explained who he was, and told me that Dante was away for the week taking Gloria for a clinical trial for her MS.” Her eyes soften at the memory. “Unfortunately, nothing ever came of the trial, but regardless, Luca was apartment-sitting for him while he was gone and taking care of Dante’s cat. I poured my heart out to him, blubbering all over his chest, and he just held me.” That damn firm chest of his really is calming.

“He let me get it all out, and when I was less of a mess, he asked me what I wanted to do, and when I didn’t know, he started looking into options. He sat with me for hours, searching through images and websites to explain what each procedure would be like, how they would feel, and what I could do if I wanted to keep it or put it up for adoption.”

This doesn’t surprise me at all. After getting to know Luca better, I have no doubt that’s exactly what he’d have done.

“I was a scared seventeen-year-old with no money, no home, and barely a future if you’d have asked me back then. And more than that, I didn’t want to carry a child who would remind me every day of the abuse they’d been brought into this world as a result of. So when I decided I wanted an abortion, he made me promise to sleep on it. He brought me back to the shelter and swore he’d pick me up the next morning to take me to a clinic if I still wanted it. And the next day, he saved my life .”

Tears are freely streaming down my cheeks now. I swipe at them with the back of my hands, my eyes burning.

“I hadn’t realized it then”—she breathes, her voice wavering—“but I know now that if Luca hadn’t done what he had, I wouldn’t be here. I’d have done anything to end the cycle of abuse for myself, and I was in such a dark place, I would have ended it all if it weren’t for him.”

She smiles down at her feet, a sad smile that has my heart clenching in my chest. When her baby-blue eyes meet mine, unshed tears are rimming them. “Luca thinks the women’s shelter is what saved me.” Her voice cracks. “But that’s just not the truth. It was him. He may think he’s undeserving of love or that he’ll never be enough, but he’s so wrong, Samara. That man has so much love to give, it’s bursting at the seams. Did you know that he’s been teaching self-defense to the women at the shelter for over a decade?”

My eyes widen. I’d put pieces of that together but had no idea it had been going on that long.

“Yeah.” She nods. “After Dante and I finally got together, Luca had decided he wanted to give back to the shelter and ensure none of those women ever felt defenseless again. Then, when he got drafted to play for the New York Monsters, he continued teaching those classes every week on Wednesdays over video call, like clockwork.”

“I had no idea,” I answer honestly.

Her eyes soften as she assesses me. “There’s a lot to Luca that doesn’t meet the eye, Samara. I’ve seen the way you look at him, and I’ve had long conversations with that man about his feelings for you, and believe me, you two are it for each other. I think you’d just be prolonging the inevitable if you didn’t go after that man and make him yours. The invisible string tethering you together will always win in the end; it’s better not to fight it. Trust me, I’d know better than anyone,” she says with a wink.

She extends her hand for me to take. “Now come on, let’s get back before they send out a search party for us.” She giggles, but the sound isn’t the same as it usually is, but she clasps her hand around mine and gives me no time to recover.

She’s right. There’s so much I don’t know about Luca, but I think I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that I want to. I want to know everything about him, and it’s time I finally tell him that.

***

I looked all over for Luca, but by the time I made it in, he had left with Gia. Alessandro mentioned that he was dropping Gia off at Cici’s so she wouldn’t miss out on her Friday with her daughter.

He really is doing an impressive job with co-parenting Gia, but I can’t help but feel like I missed my shot.

Though, I guess having the night to fully think through what I want to say to him wouldn’t be a bad thing either.