It’s giving me a headache.
“What the hell is your problem?” I shout at him and get my ass up off the sofa.
Fuck. I was just getting comfortable.
“You’re my problem,” Luca seethes and drops the metal pot onto the stove. “She’s my problem.”
He apparently has a list of who’s wronged him.
Can’t say I’m surprised that I’ve made the cut, especially after the shit that happened last night.
“Not marrying her?” I guess, a bit relieved. I’d hate to see him throw his life away for a girl he hardly knows. I can’t help but smile as I sip my beer and watch his frustration get taken out on our cookware.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Luca growls and rushes at me. “You’ve been eyeing her all semester, vying for her attention.”
While I did have a little crush on Harper when I first met her, I realized Luca had it bad for her, and his streak of jealousy wasn’t going to help our friendship or the team.
Dad always taught me to put the team first, or maybe he’d actually meant the mafia, but I’m just using those words interchangeably. To me, they’re both blood, family. Then again, I did hold a gun on Luca last night.
Not surprised he’s pissed.
“Trust me, I’m not the one interested in marrying her,” I say.
He laughs darkly.
“That’s not what you said when you met her,” he reminds me of my words, the ones where I swore I’d met the girl who I’d marry.
“Well, I was wrong. She clearly has eyes for you. I’m not going to compete with that,” I say. If he’s looking for a fight from me, I’m not giving it to him.
He drops a half-dozen ingredients into the pan, mostly veggies and some chicken, and watches the stove.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask.
“Seriously?” His gaze shoots up at me. “You were ready to follow my father’s orders without so much as considering our brotherhood.”
“Don’t take it personal, my father and your dad are friends. I’m going to run the business one day, it’s just—an order.”
“Killing me is just a fucking order?” Luca shouts, his eyes wide, and I’m not sure he won’t flip the pan at me. At least the food isn’t sizzling hot yet. The pan, though, I’m not entirely sure. I take a step back.
I can see his father’s rage in him.
“You’ll make a good don,” I say, hoping to ease the tension.
“I don’t fucking want to be a don!” Luca grabs the nearest knife from the counter and throws it at me.
I duck just in time as it whizzes right past and slams into the wall. It would have taken out my eye or maybe my forehead. Not terrible aim.
“I don’t think we’re getting our safety deposit back,” I joke, trying to make light of the situation.
Before I have time to hear his answer, I stalk backward out of the kitchen, not waiting for the second knife to strike.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“I heard that!” Luca shouts back at me.
“Good, it was meant for you to hear.” I collapse back onto the sofa, trying to unwind, but it seems near impossible when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, so I send the call to voicemail.
A second later, it buzzes with a text from the same unknown number.
