“I’m all ears,” I replied.
“Aria is pregnant.” Luca never took his eyes off the shot in front of him. “And it might not be mine.”
Jesus, minutes ago, I envied her, and now I wasn’t sure what to think.
“It might not be yours?” I questioned.
Luca grabbed the shot in front of him and downed it. “She’s been sleeping with her business partner.”
“Wow,” I blurted out unintentionally.
Luca gave me a look, “What happened to no judgment?”
I took a deep breath, “Sorry. She just seems to have it all together. Seems like a silly slip-up. When did she tell you?”
“She didn’t,” he motioned for me to hand him the bottle, “Emilio knows the nurse from the hospital. That’s how we found out.”
I placed the bottle far from Luca’s reach. “So now what? You’re going to pretend you don’t know?”
“I’m going to force it out of her.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“If I put us all in the same room, I can get her to crack.”
“Okay. What makes you think she would have her business partner come to Chicago?”
“He arrived last night.”
My eyes widened, “She has no shame.” When he shot me another look, I held my hand up in surrender, “Sorry. This is a lot. Do you want it to be yours?”
Luca didn’t reply; he just walked over to the bottle and took a swing.
He nods his head as though that was an acceptable answer. He was torn, but it wasn’t because he was unsure. Luca wanted the baby to be his, and if it wasn’t, that meant he couldn’t have Aria.
“Luca, do you have feelings for her?”
He was going to take another gulp from the bottle but then realized the alcohol was getting to him, so he placed it back onto the countertop.
“I don’t want to,” he replied.
“But you do.”
“She changed everything, B.” The look in his eyes told me it was the truth. “I thought after Sandra, I’d never feel love for another woman the way I loved her. Then, after the first time seeing Aria, without even speaking to her, I sold off the vineyard just to get her in front of me.”
It hurt me to see him talking about his first love. Sandra was the kindest person I had ever encountered and was taken from him. He named a vineyard after her and would say he would only sell it when he moved on.
“If you are the father,” I questioned, “Then what? She is still a Cassariano.”
“I’d marry her.”
Luca was a widow. His wife Claire was an arranged marriage. When she passed away, he swore never to marry again. So, for him to marry Aria without hesitation spoke volumes.
“A Cassariano? What happened to not crossing boundaries? Her family killed our brother. No one will look past it.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Of course, it is,” I huffed.
