Page 65 of Lucky
Finally, his voice breaks through the silence, calm and steady. “You did what you had to do,” he says, a statement, not a question. The way he says it isn’t exactly praise, but it carries a weight of respect, a quiet understanding that feels as heavy as any compliment.
I turn slowly, finally meeting his eyes. His gaze is sharp, but there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface—a knowing look, almost paternal. Even though we are less than a decade apart, Dante has become something of a surrogate in my life. Without a father figure to guide me, he’s become the elder brother, the protector, the one who understands the cost of power, of leadership, in ways that no one else does. In his presence, I can exhale, knowing that if anyone can make my situation better, it’s him.
“I didn’t have a choice, Dante,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. There’s something about him that softens the edge of my own determination. His presence doesn’t just fill the room; it pushes me to confront the reality I’ve been avoiding. “My family was fractured. Someone had to take charge.”
Dante steps closer, the weight of his gaze unwavering as he studies me, not just my words but my actions, the decisions I’ve had to make. The small movements of his lips suggest a smile, but there’s a gravity to it—one that feels more like acknowledgment than kindness. "I respect that," he says, his tone steady, but there’s something deeper beneath the words, a kind of quiet approval. "Not many could do what you’ve done, Jacklyn. Stepping up like you did... in the face of so much chaos. Most people would have crumbled under the pressure."
I can feel the compliment, but it doesn’t settle comfortably inside me. Respect is one thing, but respect from Dante carries a weight that feels almost too heavy for me to bear. It’s not just about taking charge; it’s about carrying the consequences of every action, every choice. The family’s future rests on my shoulders now, and no amount of praise can lighten the burden.
“Doesn't matter,” I reply, my words a little sharper than I intend. “What matters is keeping it all together. I can’t afford to crumble.”
“No, you can’t,” Dante agrees, his voice calm but firm. “But you also can’t do it alone.” He moves closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re not meant to carry that weight on your own. Even the strongest need help, Jacklyn. It’s what keeps the empire standing. You can’t let your pride stand in the way of that.”
The words strike me like a blow, not because I don’t know the truth, but because hearing it from Dante feels different. He isn’t telling me something I don’t know; he’s just reminding me of the things I’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge. I’ve spent solong pretending I don’t need help—pretending that I can hold it all together, that I can lead without faltering—but that’s not the reality. An empire is a delicate thing. One wrong move, and we could lose it all.
“I never asked for this,” I mutter under my breath, barely louder than a whisper.
Dante hears it anyway. He steps closer, his eyes softening just a fraction, though his presence still commands the room. “No one ever does,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a hint of something older—something that speaks to the weight of years lived in the shadows of power. “But when you inherit it, when it’s thrust upon you, you have to accept it. And you’ve done that. You've stepped into a role that no one else could. That’s not something most people are capable of. But it’s also made you a target.”
I want to argue, to tell him that I don’t need his approval, but I know better than that. Dante doesn’t hand out compliments lightly. And the truth is, part of me needs to hear this, even if it makes me uncomfortable.
He seems to sense the shift in my thoughts, as though he can read me like a book. “But that’s what I’m here for,” he continues, his voice taking on a different tone, one that’s still calm but tinged with something more strategic. “To help people like you take charge without being consumed by the weight of it all. It’s my job to make your ascension to the throne a seamless one.” He steps even closer, his gaze steady. “It’s about making sure the empire doesn’t just survive—it thrives. And for that, you need more than just strength, Jacklyn. You need strategy. You need balance. And you need a partner.”
I shake my head slightly, the tension in my chest tightening. This again. It’s too much, too soon after everything that’s happened for me to be thinking about a marriage of convenience for the sake of saving my family legacy.
“I’m not asking you to listen,” Dante says, his voice low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to understand. We’re not just about rules—we’re about control. About keeping everything in line so you don’t have to break yourself trying to keep it all together.” His eyes hold mine, the depth of his gaze almost unnerving. “You can’t carry it all alone. And you shouldn’t have to.”
There’s a moment of silence between us, one that stretches, growing heavy with the weight of his words. And for a brief, fleeting second, I allow myself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’s right. I’ve spent so much time proving myself, so much time pushing back against everything and everyone, that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to lean on someone else. To accept help.
I take a slow breath, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders. “And if I don’t take the help?” I ask, almost daring him to answer.
Dante’s smile is small, knowing, but it’s there. "Then you’ll burn yourself out before you can even get started," he says, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “You saw what happened the last time you refused my recommendation that you marry; even under my protection, they still killed your most loyal soldiers.” He pauses, impressing the silence upon us before he makes his next point. “If they try again, who’s going to keep the family together when you’re gone, Jacklyn?”
The finality of his words hits me harder than I expect, a jolt of reality that cuts deeper than I care to admit. Dante Accardi’s help may be an answer, or it may be a curse. But the truth is, I’m not in this alone. I can’t be. Not anymore.
Dante takes a step back, his gaze never leaving mine. “I’m here for a reason, Jacklyn. Take the help I’m extending to you.”
I nod, just barely. There’s too much to think about, too many layers to untangle. But for the first time in a long while, I allowmyself to accept that maybe I don’t have to carry all of this weight on my own. Maybe it’s as simple as just saying‘yes’.
33
LUCKY
Iwatch Scarlett’s small body bounce in Allegra’s arms, her chubby hands clutching at her mother’s shoulder as she giggles, the sound light and carefree. It’s a sound that fills the room with a warmth so genuine, it seems to radiate outward, soaking into everything around her. Allegra beams down at her, her face soft and full of adoration, and for a moment, everything in the room pauses, like the world has forgotten how to move.
Then Scar steps forward, a shadow over Allegra and Scarlett’s bubble of joy. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes shine with something that can only be described as pure, unfiltered love. With one smooth motion, he reaches for his daughter, pulling her from Allegra’s hip and raising her high above his head. Scarlett squeals, her tiny body momentarily suspended in the air, her giggles spilling out like a melody as Scar’s grin widens, his expression one of complete contentment. She reaches for him, then her small fist instinctively finds its way into her mouth, and Scar laughs—deep and full—from somewhere deep in his chest.
It’s a sound that settles in my bones, and for a brief, dizzying second, I think I could live in this moment forever. There’ssomething about the way Scar holds his daughter that makes everything else in the world fade away. He’s a man who’s seen the darkness, who’s been to places and back that most people only dream about, and yet, when he looks at Scarlett, it’s like none of that matters. The joy on his face is as pure as any I’ve ever seen.
Happiness… this is what it looks like.
I watch them for a moment longer, my eyes drinking in the scene. The way Scarlett clutches at her father’s finger, the way Scar teases her, making silly faces that draw louder giggles from her. It’s an image of love so simple, so innocent, and yet it’s the kind of thing that makes the weight of everything else seem small. I can feel the sharp pang of something deep in my chest, something that twists with a kind of ache that I don’t know how to name.
If the way that I love Scarlett hurts, I can only imagine the way Scar and Allegra feel. The thought hits me like a gut punch, and I force myself to look away, but it’s hard to shake the feeling. They created this little life, this bundle of pure joy, and in that one small human, they’ve anchored their hearts forever. I’ve seen the way Scar looks at her, the way his entire demeanor softens when she’s near. It’s as though nothing in the world matters more than her.
And then, I see Jacklyn.
She’s standing just across the room, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded loosely across her chest. Her eyes are locked on me, studying me with a kind of quiet intensity that I can’t quite escape. When I catch her gaze, she freezes, her expression shifting for a fraction of a second—almost as if she wasn’t expecting me to notice. But it’s too late; I see it. The curiosity in her eyes, the sharp, quiet hunger of someone trying to understand the man in front of her.