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“Yeah, but it isn’t like you’re staying in a hotel, like us. I mean, back home, my room is full of shit. Like, full of shit—” Luca trailed off when he noticed how out of it I was, mistaking my distraction for boredom. “—I don’t really mean full of shit, just… okay, I’ll stop rambling now. Ready to go?”
I nodded, and together we left the house. I didn’t say goodbye to my father, though Luca asked if we should. I told him I’d already said my goodbyes, forcing us to go straight to the car. He was a gentleman, so I had to give him some credit; he opened the car door for me, like I was helpless or something, giving me a wide smile all the while.
Luca’s car was nice. A full leather interior, all sleek and black. It still had that new car smell. He got in, but before he could start driving, take us to wherever he had planned, I said, “Could we… could we not do something in Cypress? Can we go somewhere else?” Somewhere my father wouldn’t have eyes and ears, somewhere where it would be blatantly obvious if someone was following us.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew it was inevitable. Luca was blind to many things, but I wasn’t. It was time to open his eyes, let him see just who my father was—along with his own. He had to understand why I wouldn’t marry him. My objections weren’t with him, but with his father, with his last name, with the past and everything that had been done to me.
Father Charlie had always preached about honesty. Honesty was not something that went along with the Santos name, nor any man like my father. I did not want to be just like him. I wanted to be better. Better than him, better than Rocco, better than everyone in this fucking city, and to do that, I had to be the one thing that scared me the most: honest.
“Uh, sure,” Luca said. “Any ideas where, or should I just start driving?”
“Just drive.”
Within another minute, we were on the road. It took us fifteen minutes to pass Cypress’s city limits, and we kept going. Out of habit, I kept checking the mirror, wanting to see if we were being followed. Granted, I could be tracked with my phone, but as long as no one had eyes on us, it would be fine.
“Why do you want to get out of Cypress so badly? Do you hate it there?” Luca asked. “Or is it because you’re worried whoever shot you is going to try again—” He let out a groan, shaking his head once. “Of course, that’s it. I’m sorry. This was bad timing, I guess. You could’ve said no.”
“It’s not that—well, it’s not all about that.” My fingers fiddled with my clutch, where I’d shoved my phone, and I worked to open it and turn the damned thing off. I already had a text from Zander about my date with Luca, but I chose to ignore it as I powered it down. “I just want to go someplace where we can talk without having to worry about anyone else listening.” That place was not his car; it could be bugged. You never knew. With what I wanted to tell him, I had to be one hundred percent certain no one was listening.
It was a moment before Luca said, “Okay, that’s… okay. I’ll just keep driving, and you tell me when. Or where. Or whatever. I’m down for anything, as long as it’s with you.” He flashed me a toothy grin, and yet even his usually good-natured self couldn’t diminish the fact that he was a little confused.
I wasn’t very talkative during the drive, so Luca turned on some music. He asked me what I liked, what I wanted to listen to, and I just shrugged. Frankly, I didn’t really care. Music was nice, but I never sat down and let myself drown in it. I didn’t have any favorite artist or song. I’d been so focused on staying alive these past few years, trying to be a better person, to be the girl Father Charlie wanted me to be—the girl my mother would hopefully have wanted me to be—to have time to gather up any playlists.
Time passed slowly. We drove for an hour before we came upon a roadside diner and gas station combo that looked like it had seen better days. Or, you know, a horror movie villain.
“There,” I said. I hadn’t eaten breakfast. What were the odds their food was nasty? You never knew. Places like this might just have the best-tasting dishes around.
Luca’s dark eyebrows went up, but he said nothing else, turning into the gas station’s parking lot, parking us right before the diner. Its front wall was all glass, allowing you to see inside clearly. Even though it was about lunchtime, there were only two other people sitting in one of the booths, and from what it looked like, there was only one waitress.
Oh, yeah. A place like this was perfect.
I got out of the car, well aware that my white dress was severely out of place at a diner like this. Then again, white was out of place in Cypress too, so I should be used to it. I think… I think it might be time to get an all-new wardrobe. This white was a facade for my father. The white wasn’t me.
Luca and I went into the diner, and the waitress greeted us from behind the main counter, where the cash register sat. “Morning,” she said, smiling wide. “Take a seat anywhere you like. I’ll get you two menus.”
I guided us to the booth in the furthest corner, away from the other people in the diner. I sat on the side that allowed me to watch the rest of the place and the people in it, which Luca didn’t seem to mind. He slid into the seat opposite mine, watching me and not saying a word. He could tell something was wrong; I wasn’t even trying to hide it.
It was past that point now. Way past that point. If I was right, and my father was the reason I was shot… what was there to do besides find a way to retaliate? But I couldn’t do anything on my own. To hurt my father the most, I needed to destroy his shot at the Black Hand, crumble his empire starting at the foundation.
The waitress gave us our menus and took our drink order. Luca waited until she was gone to say, “So, what are you going to get? I see they have burgers, and chicken fingers… and not much else. Don’t know if I’d trust their salads—” Based on his tone, I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working.
“Probably just the chicken,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you can’t go wrong with chicken fingers,” Luca agreed. “Or, at least, I don’t think I’ve ever had nasty chicken fingers, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.” He paused. “Not something to bring up when you’re at a gas station restaurant, probably.”
I could appreciate what he was trying to do. Make me feel better and all that. Still, I kept any responses to myself, waiting for the waitress to come back and take our order. Only then would I feel comfortable telling Luca what I planned to.
Oh, it was a lot. A hell of a lot, and I had no idea how he would respond. Maybe he’d get pissed, deny it, and storm off, leave me here—in which case, I’d have to call Zander to pick me up and figure out something to tell my father. I hoped he wouldn’t react like that, though.
I wanted him to believe me.
I… I didn’t know why I wanted him to believe me so badly. I guess that easy smile of his got to me when I wasn’t paying attention. I should’ve reinforced my walls instead of letting them down, but it was too late for that now. Now, we both would have to face the consequences of the truth, and this truth wasn’t pretty in the slightest.
Once we had our drinks and our orders were put in, Luca folded his hands on the table and leaned toward me, every ounce of his attention me—mimicking the expression he’d worn in my dream, only a little less lust-filled. “So,” he started, “are you going to tell me what this is about, or should I start guessing? We could play charades—”
I rolled my eyes at him, toying with the straw in my drink, pushing the ice cubes down. “No charades necessary, Luca. I feel like I have to warn you: it’s not pretty. You might hate me afterward or think I’m crazy.”
“I highly doubt that.”
