Luca

New York City.

It was really only across the bridge from me, but as I stood at the window staring out at the smoggy skyline, it felt a million miles away. Charlotte was there somewhere. It was where she lived, where she worked, where she walked down the concrete sidewalks sipping coffee with friends. Where she grocery shopped, where she sat on a sunny bench in the park catching up on emails, listening to the sounds of the city around her. At least that was what I imagined her doing—and what my weeks of surveillance had discovered. I put her on watch under the guise that it was for her protection, but my reasoning was twofold. I wanted her safe, but I also wanted to know absolutely everything about her.

It had been five long weeks since she left, and Silvano's men seemed to have forgotten all about her—something I wished I could do. She had gone back to work at the gallery almost immediately. Tuesdays and Thursdays she took a yoga class, Wednesdays she stayed late to close the gallery. And Fridays were reserved for drinks with a few of her friends at a local bar where she liked to sip on margaritas until her cheeks turned the sweetest shade of pink. I even sent Marco to Rhode Island with her when she went to visit her family. It was almost unfathomable to me how routine and normal her life was, and even more unfathomable that she seemed to enjoy it. I hadn't heard so much as a peep from her in the time that she'd been gone, and as surprising as that was, maybe it was for the best.

Charlotte's life was amongst the bustling streets and the shadows of skyscrapers within those city limits. In her routine, in her cookie cutter, predictable life. In her normalcy. It was where her entire world existed, and mine was here. On the outside looking in. An outsider, an imposter, a wolf among sheep.

The sound of crushing bone from behind me was the starkest reminder of that. This was my normalcy. It was in the danger and the chaos and the mayhem that I thrived. There was nothing predictable or mundane about my day-to-day life, and that was exactly how I liked it. We were both where we belonged, and I needed to remember that. The hold she had on me was infuriating, and it was starting to interfere with my work. The longer I let my infatuation with Charlotte Parker go on, the lesser of a leader I became.

Forcing my thoughts of her to the side, I whirled around, facing the challenge in front of me like I always did. And today that challenge came in the form of a man named Rex. Rex was a contractor we used for clean-up occasionally, and he had bene busted a few weeks ago for a DUI. It was his third, which in the state of New York, meant he was looking at a seven-year prison sentence. Instead of keeping his filthy mouth shut, he sang like a damn canary, and gave the police the location of one of my storage facilities. It wasn't illegal to ship parts of guns the way we did, and it was mostly unregulated, so much to the dismay of the NYPD, they couldn't actually nail me with a crime. Instead, they just confiscated the parts we had stored there, and now I was out nearly five million dollars. I could have sold those parts for ten times what I had paid for it, and now that I was out that money, something had to give. The man barely had a hundred dollars to his name, and he could work for a thousand more years and never recoup that kind of money. So unfortunately for Rex, that meant he had to pay in other ways.

I had been raised inside of the Romano crime syndicate, and one of values we prided ourselves on was only killing those who deserved it. But if you were stupid enough to cross us, we were also the most ruthless. Most of the dirty work was done by my father as an enforcer and Capo to Antonio. Antonio was fairly hands off when it came to this kind of thing, but that wasn't how I did business. I had my hand in everything, and there wasn't a side of this business I didn't participate in. There was nothing I'd ask my men to do that I wouldn't do myself, but that was only part of this. I wanted my face to be last thing these motherfuckers saw as they died. I wanted to send a very personal message to anyone who thought they could betray us. I played the stone-cold part well, and our family's reputation wasn't going to lag on my watch.

The knife was holding felt cold against my skin as I tightened my grip. I chose a serrated blade, one filthy with age and rust. My father had given it to me years ago, and it remained my one true connection to him. Well, I guess he hadn't exactly given it to me. He held it against my throat the day a letter from NYU arrived at our house addressed to me. I didn't know where it came from, but he took it to mean I was considering a different path in life besides the one that was chosen for me, and he didn't like that. Sometimes when I need to remind myself of my roots, I close my eyes and I can still feel the pressure of this blade on my skin. And I guess that's why I've kept it all this time.

Rex slowly lifted his head as I stalked toward him, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to mine. I expected to find fear and desperation in them, but instead, they were just empty. He knew what was coming, he knew there was no way out. In usual circumstances, I would drag this out longer—torture and torment him for days and make sure his death was a warning to others. Today, however, was different. Today, I let myself get dragged down the rabbit hole that was Charlotte Parker, and then, just because I was a masochist, I topped off my frustrations with memories of my father.

I took the knife above my head and then brought it down quickly, straight through his heart. Blood spraying as I struck his aorta, slowly dragging down and slicing the life right out of him. He sucked in one sharp, final breathe as the metallic stench of blood enveloped the room. I dropped the knife making a loud clattering sound on the floor as Angelo and Carlo stared back at me, confused why I had ended it so suddenly when that hadn't been the plan.

"Get the car." I turned to Angelo. "I want to go into the city."

"Why?" He shot me a disapproving glance, already knowing where my head was at. That was both the blessing and curse of working with your best friend.

"I want to go into town because I feel like doing some shopping. Is that alright with you?" I glared. I didn't owe him any kind of explanation. 

"Yeah." He smirked. "This shopping trip, it wouldn't happen to be about a girl, would it?"

He and Carlo both laughed.

"Get somebody to clean this mess and get the fucking car." I raked my fingers through my hair and stepped around the pooling blood carefully. I didn't want to track it anywhere.

I changed out of my blood drenched clothes, and waited for Angelo on the front steps. After a few minutes, he came around from the garage with my Mercedes and we headed into the city. Driving relaxed me for some reason, and as we wound through the curves and winds of the road, I could already feel the tightening in my chest subside.  

"Are we going anywhere in particular?" Angelo asked, feigning innocence.

"I just want to make sure Silvano's men have left her alone." I grunted, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. He was the only one of my men I let talk to me like this. At least the only one I let live after doing so.

"Luca, you've had her followed since she left. They haven't touched her. Why do you care so much anyway?"

Why did I care? This girl had no bearing on my life, I knew next to nothing about her, yet I had let her imbed herself so deeply in my mind, that I couldn't even seem to function without her on my mind. We were making a two-hour drive into the city on the off chance I may catch a glimpse of her. Why the fuck was I so enthralled with her?

"I know that." I snapped.

Angelo shrugged and kept his mouth shut the rest of the ride. When we pulled in front of the gallery, there was meter parking right in front. I sat still, trying to psych myself up for going in there.

You're just making sure she is okay. Get in, get out. See that she's fine and then leave.

"So?" Angelo said, a small smile creeping across his face

I reached over to slug him before unclipping my seat belt and stalking inside. Angelo followed close behind and the door swung shut behind us.

The gallery looked just as I remembered it--just fewer people. Everything had been cleaned up and a few new paintings graced the walls. Soft, classical music played and I bit back my smile. I was starting to see what Silvano meant by the art industry being pretentious. 

There was a small crash from the back room and a shrill scream. Angelo immediately drew his gun, peering around the wall.

"Hello?" I called, hand on my gun as well, ready to draw at any moment. Perhaps Silvano's men had come back to take care of business.

"Oh!" A blonde woman--not Charlotte--came out from the back storeroom. "Hello, I didn't realize anyone was out here. I was just putting some things away and tipped them over. Sorry for the commotion, how can I help you?"

Angelo rolled his eyes and secured his gun before she could see.

I looked her up and down. She was a small woman, probably about the same age as Charlotte, although her eyes were a little sunken in and her unruly blonde hair looked like it hadn't been washed in days. She had dark rimmed glasses and her skin was speckled with a tinge of paint. She noticed me looking and cleared her throat quietly.

"We were in here a few weeks ago, and my friend purchased a painting. We're in the market for a few more and wanted to try to speak with the artist to see if she had anything else." Angelo spoke up. Brilliant. This was why I kept him around.

"Oh, I see!" She exclaimed. "Of course, what was the name of the artist, do you remember?"

"Her name was Charlotte." I followed his cue.

"Oh! That's right, I remember you coming in." She said a little taken aback. "Well, you're in luck. Char is actually in today. She's working on a new piece but I'm sure she wouldn't mind speaking with you. Hold on one moment." She smiled tightly, and disappeared towards the back.

"Oh, she'll mind once she sees who it is." Angelo snorted. He was getting way too much fun out of this.

Soft footsteps came down the hallway, and then Charlotte came around the corner. I saw her before she saw me. She was even more stunning than I remembered. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She didn't need it; she was a natural beauty. A messy apron covered her jeans and t-shirt, and I could tell she was in her element this way. As breathtaking as she looked all fancied up for the event, this was who she really was, and she was glowing.

"Hello." Her voice was pure silk, spreading warmth over my entire body.

Her face flushed when she caught sight of me, and I smirked, glad to see I had that effect on her. "Luca."

"Hi Charlotte." I smiled, walking toward her. Each step I took made her visibly more and more nervous.

"Jenni said... I thought you were..." She stuttered.

"Interested in more paintings? We are." Angelo said, making his presence known.

"Oh, hi Angelo. I didn't know you were here, also."

"I brought him along so we could pick out some more of your paintings. We're opening up a club in a few weeks and need some art." I said examining the canvases on the wall.

"A club." She echoed. Damn, that stuttering thing she did around me.

"Yes. We'll need ten." I said, trying to sound somewhat disinterested.

"Ten?!" Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

"Yes. Will that be a problem?" I rubbed my chin. I knew next to nothing about art or how much time went into a painting, was that unrealistic?

"Well, no, it's just that... Is there another artist I can interest you in? I don't have that many for sale just yet."

"No, I only want you. But I'm willing to wait for custom pieces if that's better for you. Of course, we'll pay more for the trouble."

"Are you sure? We have several, much more experienced..."

"Are you proud of your paintings, Charlotte?" I sighed. She was so hot when she was flustered.

"Well, yes, of course, but.."

"Then stop trying to sell me someone else's work. I already own one, I enjoy your work and I know my patrons will too. I'd like to purchase ten." We were only a few inches apart now, so close I could reach out and touch her at any second. "Do you have any others I can see?"

"Only a few are finished." She was flustered. "I can show you those in the back, but the others will take some time for me to work on."

"Of course." I nodded. "I'd love to see what you've got now."

I could almost hear Angelo smirking behind me. The truth was, I couldn't care less what the damn paintings looked like but a few minutes alone with Charlotte in the back of the gallery sounded right up my alley.

"Sure." She said. "Right this way."

I followed her down the long hallway and into a large studio. It looked like a craft store exploded in here. There were paint and canvases and brushes and all kinds of supplies strewn about, and there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the madness. How did she get any work done in an environment like this? I'd go absolutely insane.

She led my over to a set of windows where a few canvases were displayed. With the sun beaming through the glass, it almost looked like they were undershot lights. Within seconds, I recognized it as her work. The style was similar to the one I purchased first-- colorful and vibrant, with her passionate energy almost dripping off of the canvas. I wasn't buying her excuse that she just made these scenes up in her mind. There was too much attention to detail for that.

"These are perfect." I said.

"You're sure? They don't really seem like they fit in your type of club..."

I chuckled, amused with her appraisal of me. "They'll be perfect. I can't wait to see more."

"Great." She gave me a tightlipped smile. "What did you say your time frame was?"

"The opening is July twelfth." That was three months from now. "Will that be enough time?"

"It should be."

"Good." I said. "Have things been going okay since the break in?"

Charlotte hesitated. "They've been fine."

"Are you lying to me?" I asked pointedly. She wasn't very convincing, and I knew that even with my surveillance, they may be finding ways to harass her. "If they're still bothering you, I need to know."

"It's not that big of a deal." She bit her lip. "They're not bothering me, it's just me. I'm in my own head and reading into things that aren't really there."

"What kind of things?" She was definitely in denial.

"Just things, Luca." She shrugged. "I've been getting calls late at night, but no one is there when I answer. Its probably just telemarketers. And for a few weeks, I thought a guy was following me, but I think I recognize his car. I've seen it in our parking garage so he probably lives in my building."

Those weren't just things, but I didn't want to worry her. I'd get Marco on it immediately. "If they come back, if you hear from them at all..."

"Call you. I know." She interrupted.

"I have other avenues that the cops might not."

"Other avenues?" Her brow furrowed.

"He means that sometimes the cops drag their feet with cases like this. We can help expedite things." Angelo was lurking at the door to the studio, eavesdropping on our conversation.

"Right. Look, if we're done here, I really need to get back to work." Charlotte sighed, her mood immediately souring with the conversation about the attack.

"We need to get going, too." Angelo said. I shot him a harsh glare. Was a little privacy too much to ask for?

"Can I take you to lunch? We can talk more about what exactly I'm looking for." My voice was looming with possibility. What exactly was I looking for from this girl? That was yet to be determined.

I didn't even look back at Angelo, already knowing the look on his face.

"I don't know, Luca. I've got a lot going on and I can't leave Jenni." She said nervously biting her lip. God, when she did that it made me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to my room.

"Oh, yes you can! You've hardly left this place since the break in. Go! Ill be fine." Jenni urged. Her friend was pushy, I liked that.

"Please. Just business." And whatever else it turns into.

"I really need to get my project done. Can we go another day?"

"No." I shook my head. "This is a time sensitive request. How about dinner instead? After you're done working."

She sighed, hesitantly. I had her trapped and we both knew it. "Fine. But only to discuss the paintings."

"Your wish is my command." Yes, Charlotte every single fucking wish of yours is my command.