Secrets, Love and Lies (18+)

2 - Thin Line Between Love and Hate

Luca remains silent, sullen, and irritated the entire walk back to campus, but he mercifully releases my arm after we cross the street and he's convinced I won't bolt in another direction.

I have no desire to cooperate with Luca, but he has me at his mercy; my father can't know where I've been, or more importantly, who I've been with, and he holds the power to out me. Worse yet, if Luca investigates my boyfriend and then reports I've been with Alexi Ivanov, I can't begin to imagine the hell I'll have to pay.

How am I going to convince him to keep this quiet? The way I'm feeling right now, burying his lifeless body feels like a viable and rather satisfying solution to my dilemma.

Arriving at school, I break away from Luca's side, thoughts swirling as I head toward my next class. I feel his hand against my arm again, pulling me from my homicidal thoughts.

"We have to get to class or we'll be late," I mutter. I can't think of anything else to say, nothing else seems appropriate to break the awkward silence between us.

"Your place, now," he mutters, and I'm about to ignore him and slip away, until I see the set expression of his face.

It's my second last Business Management class before finals, but my marks are good enough that I can afford to miss the lecture.

But then, why do I care? What does it matter if I get the marks my father expects of me? I don't even want this degree to begin with, so I shouldn't worry about the outcome. It won't change my future. Regardless of my final marks, I am still expected to follow my father's plan to take over his business alongside Walter, like it or not.

I nod in agreement and follow him down the concrete path toward the busy sidewalk in the direction of my apartment just a block from campus. Having my own place in the city is one perk of having Dietrich money that I will never complain about.

We enter the secured building together, and Luca quietly follows me into the brightly lit elevator up to the tenth floor and down the hall into my apartment with a priceless view of the historic skyline. Luca releases a low whistle as he follows behind me. The unit has high ceilings, beautiful crown molding, and floor to ceiling windows. It's a large open concept decorated with a neutral palate, including white and taupe furniture and walls, boring to be sure. The robin's egg curtains that pool on the floor beside the windows and matching cushions on my couch are the only personal touches I've permitted in the space. I've been practical, knowing that my father will probably sell the place when school is over, and I'm forced to return to Miami.

I don't need to make it feel more like home than it already does. In a few short weeks I'll be losing not only the first man I've cared about in five years, but also the place that feels like home. Although I've resisted forming attachments to my life in New York, it has a hold on my heart, no matter how fiercely I've tried to guard against it. This city will always be where I belong, Miami forever a poor substitute.

I drop my bag in the hallway and move toward the kitchen, hoping to start our discussion on the right foot. "Can I get you a drink?" I ask, ducking my head into the large stainless fridge, hunting for my chilled vodka. It's still early, but definitely five 'o'clock somewhere and I need a drink or three.

"I'll have whatever you're having," Luca calls back as he drops himself onto my overstuffed white couch and props his monstrous, foul feet on my sparkling glass coffee table. Some things never change.

I pour two vodka sodas and though I can't be bothered to add my usual lime, I do, however, add an extra couple fingers in my glass. I am really dreading this conversation.

Dropping into the chair beside him, I set his drink on the table and take a generous sip of my own. It's strong, and I immediately appreciate the warmth that spreads through me.