Can you damage someone beyond repair?
Luca plays his role as the loyal underboss. Violent, lethal, flawless. The lapdog, the starboy.
On the surface, he maintains his facade of smirks and casual charm, but beneath the mask, thereʼs a profound dark...
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ADRIANA’S HOUSE IS IN THE heart of the West Village. When we step inside, it’s like I walked into a scene straight out of The Grand Budapest Hotel. White marble floors so glossy they almost look wet. Heavy gold-framed mirrors and velvet curtains that cascade down the windows. Chandeliers hanging down like sparkling waterfalls of crystal.
Archie’s staying over at his friend’s house for the weekend, and it seems like our father’s found a new woman to spend his weekend with, so he won’t be home until Monday. I’m grateful for the respite, knowing that Archie’s safe and sound, away from our father’s unpredictable mood swings.
Adriana skips ahead of me, practically dragging me by the hand as she leads me through the house. She’s been giddy since I got into her driver’s car after school, excitement bubbling over like champagne.
“Oh,” Adriana mumurs, “Hi Daddy.”
We walk past the dining room, where Adriana’s father is seated at the long mahogany table, flipping through the newspaper. He’s got thick, dark hair and a mustache, reminding me of Richard from Friends. He glances up as we walk by.
“Who’s this?” he asks, folding the paper neatly in half and setting it down.
“My friend, Wren,” Adriana beams. “Isn’t she lovely?”
“Quite.” Her father’s gaze settles on me, assessing but warm. “I believe I saw you at church with your father. Give him my regards, won’t you?”
His nonchalance is deliberate, like he knows my father’s a cop and he’s not intimidated by it.
I nod, even though I won’t be telling my father a single thing. “Sure.”
“I keep telling Adriana she should come to church with me more often,” he adds, his voice lighter now. “But she prefers to sleep until noon. Maybe you can be a good influence on her.”
Adriana rolls her eyes. “Papà.”
His expression hardens. “Don’t be out too late, Adriana. You know how I feel about you staying out past midnight.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Adriana sighs. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back on time.”
I stand there trying to absorb the interaction. Is this how it’s meant to be between father and daughter? I’d seen it in shows and read about it in books, but witnessing it in real life is ...jarring.
Selfishly, I wish her father was mine. That he cared where I went, that he’d even notice if I didn’t come home.
It wouldn’t matter to me where he got his money from. As long as he was nice to me.
Is it a bad, immoral thought? Maybe. But it’s just the way I feel.
“C’mon!” Adriana leads me up the winding staircase, its wide, polished wooden steps gleaming under the soft light from an ornate chandelier above.
