Mafia Heir

Chapter 37

Luca

One of the skills I prided myself on was my ability to compartmentalize. When an attack occurred, I was able to separate any personal connection to it and focus on the facts. Put any emotion to the side, and set my mind on instinct and logic. That wasn't the case today though. The second that I heard about the explosion, my mind went blank. I felt paralyzed, unable to focus on anything other than sheer panic surrounding Charlotte. There was an explosion at the health club, and Charlotte was there. 

We were fighting. The last words I spoke to her were harsh and disconnected, and I told her to leave if she couldn't handle it. I overreacted and said something I didn't mean, and now she was in danger. 

Suddenly, getting to her was the only thing that mattered. I couldn't get to her fast enough. Marco assured me she was okay, but it wasn't good enough. I needed to see her with my own eyes and felt her with my own hands. I needed to know for myself. 

She was fine, of course--at least physically. I wasn't sure she would ever be emotionally okay again. When I thought back over everything that she had been through out the last few months, I couldn't really blame her. 

When we got home, she was eerily calm, almost passive. I expected to find her hysterical and upset, and when she wasn't, it concerned me. She was becoming use to this. It no longer had the same effect on her, and the thought of that was terrifying to me. One of the things I loved most about her was her removal from all of this. She wasn't accustomed to the violence and destruction. She wasn't yet hardened by this life. But judging by her reaction, I was afraid she was being tainted beyond repair.

Perhaps Antonio and Elena were right. I should have let her go. I should have given her the opportunity to live her own life, away from the chaos and violence. She may have hated me for it now, but if she knew what I was trying to protect her from, she would have thanked me. We've come too far for that now, though. Things spiraled out of control no matter how hard I fought, and I couldn't protect her from everything. Today was proof of that. 

I was so focused on Grant, I let everything else slip through the cracks, and she was almost killed because of it. My father's menacing voice echoed in my ears. She was becoming my weakness, my blind spot, and people were going to start getting hurt because of it.

I walked into my bedroom expectingto find Charlotte curled up in a ball beneath my sheets as she was when I left her. Instead the bed was empty, and I saw her back to me out the door, leaning over the balcony. I shut the door behind me as I walked out beside her, leaning against the railing next to her. The view was stunning at sunset like this, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of the masterpiece in front of me. Long coffee colored hair flowing in the breeze. A white satin robe draped loosely over her shoulders that were freckled from the sun. An evenness in her eyes that both comforting and disconcerting. 

Another skill I prided myself on was being able to read people. Charlotte was an enigma to me, though.  I hated when she retreated back into her own mind, leaving me on the outside, flailing for any indication as to what was going through that beautiful mind of hers. It was a cruel twist of irony. She was doing the same thing to me that she hated when I did to her-- giving her my surface emotions while keeping everything else close to my chest. 

I reached out softly to her cheek, tucking a piece of her errant hair behind her ear. My touch made her flinch, and it hurt me more than it should have.

"You left without saying goodbye to me this morning. Where did you go?" She asked, not meeting my eyes. 

"I went to my warehouse. Angelo brought Grant there." I answered honestly. 

Charlotte stiffened. "Is he okay?" 

"Relatively." I said. "He's not dead if that's what you mean."