The Fate of a Love Game || A mafia romance story

Chapter 7

Luca stared at his hands and sighed. He didn't have the courage to go and find Mae, not after the way he'd treated her. He couldn't quite believe how nasty he'd gotten, and he wasn't sure why, either. Everything had just built up inside of him. His anger at his Capo for touching his sweet angel, his anger at Craig for being a spy, his anger at Mae's father for the way he had treated her...the list went on. 

One of his maids came up to him. "Sorry, sir, but your parents have asked whether you are coming. Would you like me to postpone?" Luca nodded, not looking at the maid. She disappeared. 

A few minutes later, he heard the sound of a car pulling out the drive and leaving. Resigned, he made his way to his room. He had no idea where Mae was. He hadn't told her where her room was, but he knew she hadn't left the house. One of the guards would have stopped her and brought her to him, on his orders. 

Luca reached his room and walked inside. He shut the door behind him, and, as he was about to flop on the bed, noticed his suit jacket. 

Hadn't he just given that to Mae?

He saw a piece of paper sticking out the pocket and dread filled his heart. He was almost completely sure that this was how girls left men like him when they'd been mean..but he couldn't live without his Mae.

He pulled the paper out and sat on the chair in the room, afraid to open the letter. He scoffed at himself. He was never afraid of anything, he was the big mafia Don, and look at him now. Afraid of a letter. 

With some sudden courage, he unfolded the paper and began to read.

"Dear Luca, 

I'm sorry for what I did. I'm not sure what I did, but I'm thinking it was probably my fault you got angry earlier. I would have loved to meet your parents, but maybe another time.

I'm in my room if you feel like talking,

Mae"

Luca felt like being sick. He had treated her so badly, and she was blaming herself? He couldn't believe himself. He was such a disgusting man. 

Suddenly, and without warning, he punched the wall and let out a yell. How had he fucked up this badly? Mae was such a beautiful, kind, lovely woman, she deserved someone so much better than him, and yet he was too selfish to let that happen. What had he done? He yelled again as he kicked over the glass coffee table.

Mae woke up with a start. She thought she had heard a yell coming from over the hall, but it might have been her imagining it. Hoping it was Luca, more like, some snarky subconscious voice said. Somehow, she knew it was right. 

She heard another yell from the hall and decided to go and investigate. As she left her room, Mae noticed strange banging and knocking and more yelling coming from Luca's room.

He's discovered the note then, she thought dryly. But what kind of a reaction was this? Was he that angry at her? 

Knowing that running away from her problems and hiding in her bed for another few hours wasn't going to solve anything and would probably make her feel worse, she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Luca's room had got a lot more messy since she last went in there. Papers were strewn across the carpet and the glass table was smashed and on its side. There were a few dents in the wall and the chair was overturned. She gulped and looked up at a fuming Luca. 

For some strange reason, she noticed his red, bruised knuckles. Mae walked over to him softly and took his hand. He stood, rigid, not moving, not looking at her, so she went to the bathroom and searched the cupboards until she found a flannel. She ran some warm water in the sink and dipped the flannel into it, then walked to Luca and began to dab his knuckles gently.

Suddenly, as she was cleaning up his hands, he sank to his knees. His face went into his hands and Luca, this big, strong, mafia man, began to cry. 

"Luca?" Mae dropped the flannel and sat with him. Not really knowing what to do, she took his head into her lap. His arms curled round her like a koala and he cried into her stomach. Mae shushed him like a small child, stroking his head softly. 

Eventually, his tears began to dry. He sat up and looked at her. 

"I'm sorry, Mae," he began. She went to say something but he held his hand up to tell her not to. She complied and waited for him to say what he wanted to. "I'm sorry. I got mad because I let everything build up, and I was so angry, at everyone but you. And then..I saw you hold the gun, and I was so cross at myself, for letting you into this world, when it's so full of danger, and bad things, and...I'm just so shit, I can't..I let you think that this was your fault, and it isn't, it's my fault, it's always my fault."

Mae looked at him, then snuggled into his chest. He held her, shocked that she wanted to be close to him after everything he'd done, everything he'd said. "Listen, Luca, you're not shit. You're perfect. You try so hard, just for me, and it's so unfathomable to me that you'd love me that much. I can't get my head round the way you say how much you love me. I'm no queen, no angel, I'm just...me."

"You are everything. You are my queen, my angel. Don't you let anyone tell you different. I certainly won't." She giggled a little then and looked up at him. He winked at her.

"By the way, Luca, I like your taste in clothes. And my room is gorgeous. Thank you so much!"

"Anything for you, my Angelo." She smiled at him, feeling herself get sleepy. Luca seemed to notice this, as he picked her up. She closed her eyes. 

"I can walk, you know." She felt his chest rumble with a laugh.

"But you shouldn't have to. The floor is cold, I don't want your feet getting cold." She smiled and laughed. He tapped her nose, and she gripped onto his shoulders. 

"Don't drop me!"

He got close to her face as he laid her on the bed and kissed her cheek. She felt herself drifting off, just catching his last word to her.

"Never."