Page 41 of Dare To Love Me
LUCA
I am such an asshole.
With just those few questions I turned to ash inside. I did not want to revisit the past. I didn’t want to talk about something that tore me apart when I thought back on it. The past was gone, without the ability to change it. So why linger in it?
I was hell bent on shutting out any recollection that would cause conviction about who I am. Conviction causes doubt; doubt causes weak-mindedness, and in my world that causes death. And I refused to allow any of it to take hold.
So, was I an asshole for refusing to be open with myself while still wanting to ask about her? Absolutely, yes.
It was all I could think about until she had gone deathly still at the direct question about her mom. There was that moment again. When all her walls turned to rubble instantly.
“Becka?” I pressed when she didn’t respond.
She began to fidget with her food, her eyes downcast. “I haven't seen my mom since I was six. I don’t know where she is now, and I don’t care.” It wasn’t anguish that filled her voice, but aggression.
That must be where the darkness she had mentioned comes from. What happened with her mom to be able to crush this strong woman with a single mention of her?
I suddenly felt the urge to embrace and comfort her. You don’t know how to do that. I never comforted anyone. Quite the opposite in fact. I didn’t give two shits about anyone’s feelings, woman or otherwise. A woman’s tears failed to have any effect on me. A block of ice rested where my heart should’ve been.
Except when it came to Becka. She was melting my icy heart at every turn. Slowly chipping away at it, and I still wasn’t sure how.
If only I could stop it. It was dangerous in so many ways. But, I wanted to take away all the horrors that danced across her beautiful face. Feel her warm body sink into mine as I held and protected her from her own demons. But what if she rejects my comfort? I failed to man up and find out. Instead, I tried to get her talking again.
“What was it like living with your grandparents?”
“It was great.” She flashed a bright smile and the demons slipped away. For the moment. “I mean, it was kind of stereotypical: wake up, breakfast and dinner at the same time everyday. Church every Sunday. They had early bed times. They owned a construction company, not super big but they did well. Grandpa ran the field work while my grandma did the office work. We lived in the country just outside Chico, surrounded by miles of agriculture. Nut trees and fruit trees mostly.” She paused as a mischievous grin tipped her lips. “Most of our neighbors were at least a half-mile away, and most of the neighbor kids were boys. So, I had to be tough. I constantly had to prove that I could hang with them, otherwise I would have had no one to play with. I had to be able to run just as fast, get just as dirty and fight just as rough. I didn’t mind it though, I always got along better with boys. That’s one reason why Arianna and I’s friendship is so special to me. But I liked being a tomboy.” She giggled at the memories.
Her laugh made me smile. I liked seeing her happy, even if I didn’t understand why it affected me so. She looked up to see me smiling and I could see her brightening. Me showing that I cared made her guard lower a bit.
Then she went back to fiddling with her food and a frown curved her lips. She appeared nervous about something.
“What is it?” I asked, not liking her change.
“I have another question.” Her voice was uneasy to say the least, and she didn’t look up.
“I can’t promise you an answer.” It was the best I could do to warn her.
She nodded in understanding. “The man… that night, who was he?” Our gazes clashed, I could see she was desperate. I could only imagine how many times she had relived that night.
I scowled, while I contemplated answering her question. I hadn’t planned on telling her anything ugly about my work, ever, but she’d seen it with her own eyes. She was entitled to know the reason behind the circumstance that consequently ruined her life.
Shifting on my feet I faced her directly. “He was part of the Russian Mob. They run human trafficking. They are nasty sons-of-bitches that prey on the innocent. We caught him with GHB in the club. He was using our club to snag victims. He was a fucking piece of shit that got what he deserved.”
“So how are you any different?” My spine stiffened at the accusation in her tone. But the shocked look on her face from her own question had me concluding that she hadn’t meant to ask it out loud.
My scowl deepened. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared into her deep green pools. “I’m different because I don’t take pleasure in hurting innocent people. We don’t deal in human trafficking. Prostitution, yes, but all those women came to us. We run a clean high-end escort business. I do what I have to do to complete my job and help Matteo lead the men. I torture people who deserve it, and I don’t apologize for it. Lorenzo and Matteo are like family, my loyalty to them is everything to me. The Russians have been making moves against us. We needed to send a message that night. So we did.”
Becka’s eyes were wide, her body as stiff as a board as she searched my face. Her throat swallowed hard. Her expression changed as she considered all that I told her. I just admitted I had no problem torturing another human being. No doubt she was trying to wrap her mind around the kind of man she was now married too.
“Are you done with your questions?” I was over this conversation.
This was my first relationship and wasn’t used to having to explain or justify myself. It grated on my nerves. It felt all too similar to my authority being tested. The only people I had answered to for the last twenty years was Lorenzo and Matteo.
Her eyes narrowed at my annoyed tone. “No.” Challenge edged her voice.
I raised an amused brow as her attitude built. She was so cute when she got riled up. But the challenge still had my blood running hot. Be careful sweetheart, my patience only lasts so long.
Becka crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin out. “When am I going to get my phone back? I want to talk to Arianna. And my tablet? I’m going to need it to play at the wedding.” Her eyes turned into slits. “And how long are you going to have your goons follow me around?”