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sɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ 𝐴 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐺𝑜𝑑
❦
The hotel maid set the tea down on the coffee table silently, eyes never rising above her hands. Maria sighed. Luca had the staff scared into acquiescence, and they all walked around the penthouse suite with little life, like ghosts haunting a hallway. The woman was no different. Her eyes fluttered around the tea set, too afraid to look where she wanted- to Maria.
Maria thanked her and gained no response.
The main door to the study clicked open and the hotel maid straightened noticeably, hurrying away through the other room. Luca strode in, throwing his hat forcibly to the floor, his coat already slung over the chair. His face was pale, cuts from the other day already scabbed over, but new, fresh ones gleaming a ticky red below his brow. Her own face was still littered with the remnants of the marks from the ambush.
Maria stood, eyebrows furrowing. "What happened?"
"We had him," he seethed, teeth clenched together. "Then the fucking police showed up."
"I heard. Abramo told me," she said quietly, bending to place her teacup down before walking toward him. "I meant about your face. These cuts are new."
Luca flinched as she raised a hand to pull the skin back next to his brow. A trickle of blood carve its way down his cheek, pooling just below his jaw.
Maria frowned. "He said you hadn't been hit."
"I wasn't," he said.
For a moment, Maria disappeared into the bathroom, bringing back a damp cloth and a pile of tissue paper, which she laid down next to the tea tray. Luca sighed, but willingly let her bring the cloth to his head, dabbing the blood away until it was somewhat clean. He remained still, never flinching nor hissing as the blood was wiped away.
"It doesn't sting?"
He shook his head. "No." Luca let out a sigh, opening his eyes. "Be careful. The men we're up against are slippery sons of bitches."
As much as she hated what he was doing here in Birmingham, she could never deny that Luca cared about her and that he would do everything to keep her safe. Her stomach dropped as her thoughts trailed to Arthur. She could feel the memory of his lips against hers. Maria's eyes trailed over his face, at his taunt jaw and dark eyes. Luca pulled away, removing his chin from her grip and straightening his tie. He walked toward the window, letting the laced curtains drift backwards as he lifted a finger to it, pushing it away from the dirty glass. Raindrops fell upon the window, tracing pathways against the darkening sky.
Luca closed his eyes, his lips mumbling something.
"Dear Lord. Vengeance is yours. My father," he said, little above a whisper. "Look upon me. Vengeance is yours too."
He'd said those once before. It scared her then too. Such hatred, mixed in with a promise to God. It wasn't supposed to be said in such a way. It was a sin in itself, she believed.
"Vengeance," Maria scoffed, making him look to her again, his eyebrows rising only slightly. Her eyes shifted to the window, to the black clouds rolling on the horizon and to the heavy rain that splatted against the pavement. "God looks down on you and lets the skies cry. "
Luca sneered. "Don't be so biblical, Maira. That's just the dirty English weather."
"No Luca. Your hatred clouds us all," she said, shaking her head. "You could stop this all. Let father rest in peace. Let us all go home, where we belong. Stop this."
He turned away completely from the window, his shoulders squaring. Her brother looked bare without the hat that shadowed his eyes.
"And what? You're going to fix it all with your love?"
She remained quiet, his sharp tone sending shivers down her back.
He barked out a laugh. "I didn't think so."
Maria swallowed the angry lump that was forming in her throat and looked away. There was no talking to Luca Chagretta- not about business nor family. There was no changing his mind. He was just like their mother: stubborn about the wrong things and persistent in the acts of grudges. He was like their father in other ways. He used violence to solve far too many problems.
"Where's my wife?"
"Please, Luca," she muttered.
"Where's my fucking wife?"
Maria didn't say anything. If he wanted to see Elena, he could seek her out himself. She didn't want to be the one to bring them together at a time when he was so angry. She loathed that she had to think like that. If only he could be gentler, in both heart and actions.
Luca stared back at her, waiting. When he realized she would not move, Luca scoffed and stormed back out, leaving his hat and coat to be picked up by someone else. Maria reached for her teacup and brought it to her lips. It was cold now.
