“I’ll send over everything I have,” Dante replied. “Do you want me to ruffle some feathers?”
“Set the fucking bird on fire,” I replied before clicking the phone off. I threw some more clothes in my bag, not bothering with the rest and texting Dante, requesting the jet be ready in one hour.
* * *
It was dark by the time we landed, Dante had arranged for a car to be ready for me to drive to the DeLuca residence. After driving through country roads lined with trees, the DeLuca residence came into view; a large house situated on a hill surrounded by rolling land. Rows of grapevines and some olive fields flanked the sides of the drive that winded through the hills to the house atop it all. Matteo had deeply undersold the little winery his parents owned. It was jaw dropping and went on farther than my eyes could see. I drove up to the large stone pilasters flanking the iron gate and pressed the button on the call box.
“The DeLuca Winery is closed to tours currently,” a scratchy voice announced through the box.
“This is Alexander Wright, I am a family friend,” I replied. There was no response, only a click and the gates began to slide open. I shifted back into gear and drove up to the estate. Pulling up next to a car I didn’t recognize, I got out of the car and smiled toward the porch.
“Alexander.” Matteo exhaled, sitting on the bench on the porch with his sister. I walked up to them.
“Hey, mate.” I smiled and brought him in for a hug. Lucia looked up, and I tried not to suck in a breath. Deep purple and black bloomed around her right eye, and there was an angry red splotch on her check. A split lip.Fuck.Her eyes were sunken, looking like something had sucked the life right out of her.
She smiled up at me, her split lip tugging up regardless of the discomfort.
“Hey, Luce.” I smiled back and brought her in for a hug as well. She felt so small in my arms it was almost alarming. She was much smaller than she used to be, not that I gave a single shit how many kilos someone weighed, but this was clearly in asomething is wrongway. That man deserved to die for this. No, not die,rot.
“You should see the other guy!” she lamely joked, shrugging her shoulders and sitting back down.
“I sure as shit would like to,” I replied with a grunt. “I wouldn’t be using my words.”
“Does it look that bad?” she asked, again seeming so damn small and fragile, her eyes welling up, making my damn heart break. This wasn’t the Lucia I knew, the Lucia that Matteo talked about daily. She was a spitfire, throwing sass and shade like it was her goddamn job. She demanded attention when she walked into a room and glowed—she fucking glowed. This, this was not that. I fucking hated it.
“Nah, Lucia, you’re still beautiful—as always,” I replied.
“Watch it.” Matteo shoved my arm. I rolled my eyes at my best mate.
“Don’t be so sensitive.” I laughed and sat down on the chair across from them.
Mr. and Mrs. DeLuca were long asleep, but we stayed up late talking. Matteo and I even got Lucia to laugh, and that alone made Matteo visibly relax. The cool mountain air was glorious as we talked over beers and Matteo and I swapped race stories. After a while, Lucia’s smile faded, as if the exhaustion was taking over or the weight of the day. She smiled sadly and said good night before trudging inside and leaving me and Matteo staring off into the open night sky.
“She’s pregnant,” Matteo whispered. The beer in my hand froze at my lips.Fuck.
“I won’t ever let that fucker near her, or the baby,” Matteo said, looking into the stars. “Ever.”
“He’ll have to go through us both, mate.” I could feel the rage simmer low in me. I did not take well to any man fucking with my family, and Matteo was family. So if anyone even thought about messing with his sister, they’d have to go through me first. No exceptions. I fired off another text to Dante, making it clear that deadbeat wasn’t welcome.
Now or ever.
3
THREE YEARS LATER
LUCIA
“Come on, Lucia!” Matteo groaned. “It’s just the last circuit! Ten races! It’s a vacation, all paid for!”
“Matteo.” I sighed, bouncing Gianna on my hip. “I can’t just take a vacation, what am I even going to do, the only people who attend race after race like that are the girlfriends and wives!” Also coined as the WAGS: Wives and Girlfriends.
“Not true!” Matteo practically whined. I swear he’s worse than Gia is when she’s hungry.
“Matteo, I have a toddler, I barely remember to shower. How would I even do that?”
“I have people for that!” he called, following me from room to room.
“Like who?” I shot back.
