The Don and His Angel

Chapter 24

TW: abuse

I run my hands down my face and take a deep breath. I just tortured my father. I cut him open the same way he did to me.

I don't know why he was surprised I started with my tenth birthday. My mom had just died. Correction, he had just killed my mom. I told Pietro it felt like my heart had been ripped out. So my father cut around my heart to remind me of real pain.

It's almost poetic that Antonio chose my sixteenth birthday. It was one of the worst. It was only a couple of months after the incident with Chris. My father sliced open my stomach, from one end to the other, right above the waistline of my pants. He said it would deter me from being a whore; that men would find it revolting.

I never understood the point of my birthday gifts, even now I don't. I guess he was just satisfying a sick sadistic desire inside of him.

I should feel sad, right? My father is dead, I saw it happen right before my eyes. For fucks sake, the man who killed my father told me he loves me less than a full day ago. I should be all kinds of fucked up about this. But I'm not.

It's weird, I know. But I'm mostly just relieved.

He's dead.

A smile breaks across my face at this. He's gone, for good. He can't hurt me anymore, a statement I never thought I'd be able to make. I had always expected to die by his hand one day. I never planned for the future because there wasn't one for me. I was trapped in his iron fist.

I'm free.

I stand from the ground and step around the bags still on the floor to the bathroom. I don't even bother to look in the mirror, I know I'm covered in blood. I turn on the shower and strip.

I scrub at myself but the blood circling the drain doesn't phase me. It doesn't make me feel dirty, it makes me feel strong.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, I go back into my bedroom. I grab a sundress and some underwear from the bags and quickly change. I slip into a new pair of sandals and toss my hair into a bun.

I decide to fill out the closet, I mean I can't just let hundreds of thousands of Luca's dollars sit on the floor. I begin the tedious process of hanging up hundreds of pieces of clothing. I hear the bedroom door open and shut but I stay inside the closet.

"What are you doing?" Luca asks from behind me.

I turn to look at him, "putting the clothes away."

"I see that," he says, walking closer, "why?"

"Because that's what you do with new clothes," I say as I turn back to the task at hand, "plus the floor was crowded."

"We need to talk," he says softly.

I sigh and let the blouse in my hand drop to the ground. I turn to face him fully and he gently grasps my upper arms.

He looks amazing. Not a hair out of place. He's wearing another expertly tailored suit, shiny leather shoes and a crisp white shirt.

"About what?" I ask him.

"Angelo," he says softly, tucking some hair behind my ear, "please."

"I know you want me to be devastated but I'm not," I tell him.

"Just come with me, please," he says. I nod and he places a hand on the small of my back.

We walk through the compound to the French doors that open to the backyard.

The sun is hiding today, instead the sky is an angry grey. The tree swing comes into view and I rush ahead of him to sit on it. Luca comes behind me and pushes the swing gently.

"I'm not sad you know," I tell him.

"You're not?" He asks, incredulously.

"Why would I be sad about someone I don't love? Someone who never loved me?" I reply.

When my mom died I was devastated. Even Maria and Enzo, who I had just met, made me sad. But him? I'm just relieved.

"If you do have dolore, please talk to me," Luca says.
(Grief)

"I will," I assure him. I honestly doubt that I'll grieve the death of the man. But if I were to turn to anyone here, it would be Luca.

"What happened this morning?" Luca asks, changing the subject.

"Vinny grabbed me so I punched him in the face and kicked his balls," I tell him simply.

"Lo ucciderò cazzo," Luca says.
(I'm going to fucking kill him)

"Luca?" I ask, entirely ignoring that.

"Don't try to talk me out of it," he replies.

"No it's not that," I shake my head.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"What about Pietro Manzoni?" I ask.

"What about him?" He counters.

"His loyalty has always been to my dad," I inform him, "he might do something reckless."

"He can spend his future with Vinny," he says simply.

"Are you okay?" I ask him. He stops the swing and rounds it to stand before me.

"Finché ti sarò con me, sarò sempre bravo," he says.
(As long as I have you with me, I will always be good)

"I think that came out creepier than you intended," I reply with a grin.

His eyes narrow playfully as a grin breaks across his face, "someone is feeling impertinente."
(Sassy)

My cheeks flush with red and I look down at my feet. Luca gently takes my chin in his hand and raises my face to look at him.

"I never said it was a bad thing," he smiles, "I like this side of you."

Thunder claps and the floodgates in the sky open. I gasp as the water quickly soaks through the thin fabric.

Luca takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. He takes my hand in his and we practically sprint back inside.