Chapter 25: Death

LUCA

An eight-course dinner.

Eight courses.

With Marco and Cain.

Yeah, now you understand why I’ve been debating whether or not to take the serrated steak knife resting on the one side of my plate and ending it all.

I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Then again, some of my worst enemies are sitting across the table from me, forcing conversation as if any of this is normal.

We’ve just finished course three. They only just brought out course four and though the food is some of the best I’ve ever tasted, I’m dreading the fact that we’re only half done this shit.

Cutting into the next dish, I tune out the conversation that Marco and Cain are having and decide to observe everyone.

This is the first time I’ve met and am seeing Mariposa. There isn’t too much to say about her. She looks an awful lot like an older version of Dove. She’s extremely quiet, which leads me to think she might be the stereotypical mob wife. She clearly knows everything that’s going on, but chooses to look the other way.

Dove seems a bit quiet, but I happen to believe it’s because she doesn’t approve of this marriage, just like Raven. It upsets her that her father is making Raven do this. I’ve noticed Dove give Marco the stink eye more than once, so she obviously has a distaste for the man.

I don’t blame her.

Leo, as usual, hasn’t said much. Now that I’ve met Mariposa, that might explain why he is the way he is. He keeps things close to the chest—closer than Cain—and with how thoughtfully spoken Mariposa is, it must’ve been passed down to Leo. They seem to be more the observant types. Listening and banking information for later.

Marco, well, he eats like a fucking pig. You’d think since he’s attempting to impress Cain at every turn that he’d take his time with his meals and eat with some semblance of class, but that really couldn’t be further from the truth. I see why Raven was so upset after the dinner she had with him.

Raven looks absolutely gorgeous in her tight turtleneck, her plaid skirt, and thigh-high boots. It’s effortless how beautiful she is, even in the simplest of outfits.

In all honesty, I’m quite literally forcing my eyes away from her. I don’t want to be caught staring at her too much and trust me when I say it’s extremely hard.

Marco has barely acknowledged her and we’re already on the fourth course. There’s absolutely no way he’s doing it as some ploy to seem respectful of Cain’s niece. I truly don’t think he has much interest in Raven other than the status being married to her will provide him.

It annoys the fuck out of me. He annoys the fuck out of me.

He’s not respectful towards her in the slightest. He doesn’t deserve a woman as incredible as Raven. He doesn’t deserve to sit at this table and eat this meal which probably cost Cain thousands of dollars to have catered.

He’s the epitome of an asshole. A literal piece of shit. There isn’t a single redeeming quality about him.

Seeing him near her has me feeling extra protective of her. It has me feeling like a caveman is rising up inside me. One that wants to visually claim her as mine. To mark her and touch her in ways that signal that she has no interest in Marco.

It really bothered me how upset Raven was when she came to my house after dinner with Marco. She nearly poisoned him.

Though if she’d have gone through with it, it might’ve put us in a vulnerable position, but I wouldn’t have been mad at her because of it. I don’t like the idea of her having to do shit like that. I don’t want her to have to experience some of the things I’ve had to.

Ever since I first met her, I’ve felt this uncontrollable urge to protect her. Fuck, she’s strong as hell and probably really doesn’t even need someone to do so, but I want to. I can tell she’s found a sense of safety with me and I like the idea of it.

I can tell that she’s becoming more desperate to get out of this situation. I’m praying she won’t do something reckless and give me just a little bit more time to figure all of the details out.

I won’t allow this marriage to happen.

“How long has Luca been working for you?” Marco’s voice uttering my name has me lifting my head from where I was zoning out, staring at my nearly eaten plate of food.

“Several months,” Cain answers.

I nod my head to confirm. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been. Six months now? It has to be close to that. Maybe it’s even more, I don’t fucking know. The days bleed into each other far too easily.

“You’ve survived working for Cain Brooks,” Marco comments, and it almost feels like he’s trying to poke the bear. Perhaps it’s because I’m extra sensitive towards him right now—I want to ram my fist in his face because of what he’s holding over Raven—and it’s making me look for multiple meanings with everything he says.

It’s another thing he’s said or done that makes me want to prove the opposite to him. It makes me want to show him that I’m someone he should worry about. He underestimates me and it has me feeling all that more powerful.

It’s impossible to underestimate him though. He’s about as sharp as a marble.

He should realize that he can’t trust me. Sure, I’m a survivor—I’ve witnessed murder, I’ve murdered people myself, I’ve faced so many traumas in the last several months that I couldn’t begin to describe—but that’s something I’ve grown to be proud of. It’s given me strength.

He should know that you can’t trust survivors like me. At least not until he’s found out what I’ve done to stay alive. What I’ve done to get to this point within Cain’s hierarchy.

I force laughter, and so does Cain. I play it off as if Marco has made some sort of joke, despite the fact that I’m uncomfortable. “It’s an honour to work for Don Cain,” I tell Marco, a fake ass smile plastered on my face.

Two can play this game, motherfucker.

That causes a smile to creep up Marco’s ugly vampire-ass looking face.

Jesus Christ, why didn’t I keep some of that garlic bread around?

“Maybe we will have some use for you at the Cardoso mansion after all.” He has a sip of his wine before adding, “I like loyal men.”