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“You don’t know him,” I snap angrily. “He can show emotion. It isn’t a weakness. My father is passionate and loving. He is also a great leader.” I set my food down. “Has my father not done enough for you and your family?”
Luigi sets his food down and stands, holding his hands out. “Relax, Ana. I am just saying that you’re probably misreading the situation…”
I cut him off. “Because I’m a woman? Because I’m a princess? You men think you’re so much better than us, but you forget who brought you into this world, kicking and screaming. My father is not like other heads of families.”
“All heads of families are the same,” Luigi snaps. “Their focus is to advance the family, secure their future and leave a legacy. No matter the cost. You’re playing in a game, and don’t even know the rules.”
“If you think I’m so useless, why are you helping me?” I demand to know.
Luigi runs a hand over his hair. “Because I know if I don’t, you’ll still try on your own and probably get yourself killed.”
“What would you know?” I sneer. “You’re not a decision-maker.”
“Ana…”
He calls after me as I storm off, slamming the bedroom door behind me. I fall onto the bed, hugging my body and curling up. I half expect him to storm in and drag me home, but it’s quiet. Minutes turn to hours, and I just lie there fuming. He’s a man-child. What does he know? He thinks he’s a hot playboy, but really he has commitment issues. Something I don’t struggle with.
I will wait until he’s asleep tonight, then I will grab what information he has, and I will leave and do this myself. I never should have asked for his help.Thatwas a moment of weakness.
I must have drifted off because I jump slightly when there’s a soft knock on the door. It’s dark outside, and I reach for the lamp, turning it on. I sit up, but I don’t say anything. He knocks again. “Ana, I know you’re pissed, but I’ve heated some pasta and thought you’d like to come have some.”
My stomach, the biggest traitor, growls in anticipation and I cross my arms as he says through the door, “Even if you’re pissed with me, at least come have something to eat.”
I get up and walk over to the door. When I open it, he’s not there. I glance around and see him walking to the armchair to sit down. A steaming plate of pasta, spaghetti with a saucy mince, sits on the table. I slowly walk over and shift on the sofa as far away from him as I can.
He eats, keeping quiet at first. We’re about a quarter way through our delicious meal when out of nowhere, he says, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t look up, but I pause while eating.
“You know… I also lost my mom to a family-related shooting,” he says softly, picking at his pasta. “I used to be like you. I was so angry and emotional, and I wanted revenge so badly.” I look at him out of the corner of my eye, ready to give him a tongue lashing as he continues, “I remember what that felt like. I remember how my father changed. He was so hard on us. He wanted us to be tough and guarded. He was way overprotective. Then my sister got pregnant, and he shipped her off to Italy, and I was told to know my place in the family.”
I now turn my head to look at him as he speaks. “I was never allowed to get revenge, and killing other people didn’t help. I guess I just tucked that anger of mine away, letting it simmer. I don’t know if I will ever find the man that shot my mother, but if I knew who it was, I would probably want to kill him too.” He looks up at me.
He swallows. “I was always told having emotions like that made me less of a man. So I’m sorry, Ana. I’m sorry for judging your decisions when I probably would make the same ones. If you still want to kill Mateo, I am happy to help you. That is if you’ll forgive me?”
I look back at my food and then at him. “Do you promise to teach me how to shoot a rifle? And to include me in everything?”
“I promise,” he says, and I know he’s being genuine, just from the way he’s looking into my eyes.
“Okay, I accept your apology then. I’m sorry about your mother, too,” I say quietly, turning back to my food.
We eat in a more comfortable silence after that. I guess I’m staying after all, but I don’t want him to think this makes me weak or reliant on him. I will leave if he pulls any shit.
After dinner, I retire to the bedroom to grab a few things, and then I shower. I scrub off the layer of epidermis that had contact with those grubby cartel assholes. I feel so much better after washing away the feeling of being violated.
On my way back to the bedroom, I pause and look at Luigi. “Goodnight, Luigi. I hope you get some rest tonight.”
“I hope you do, too, because tomorrow, the really hard work will start,” he says.
I nod and shut the door after myself. I slip into bed and sigh, letting myself relax. I think about how Luigi was gentle when he told me the story of his mother dying and what he experienced. I resolve to help find the murderer of his mother when he’s helped me kill Mateo. That way, we can both have our revenge.
My last lingering thought as I drift off is about how amazing, gentle, and kind Luigi is and how he would make the perfect husband.
Chapter 14 - Luigi
Before the sun rises, my eyes open and I stare at the ceiling. I struggled to get to sleep, but eventually, pure exhaustion lulled me into rest. My brain is awake, though, and ready to overthink what I did. Why did I tell Anastasia about my mother? I’m condoning what she is doing even though it could get us both killed. Our families will become targets. Whatever tenuous peace is currently held together by a thread will snap, and if anyone from our families dies, that’s on us.
I get up and shower because there’s no point being in bed. I might as well do something useful. Maybe put the coffee machine on. I have promised Ana to teach her how to shoot a rifle and to include her in everything.
