Nobody around them batted an eye.
"Luca's still so attentive with Adriana."
"Looks like something's brewing tonight, boys. Should we clear out?"
Luca lifted his head and glanced at me. Panic flickered in his eyes, along with something close to a plea.
He was begging me not to make a scene.
Not to expose him. Not here, in a room full of men who answered to my brother.
I lowered my gaze, drained the last sip from my glass, and stood.
"Matteo, I'm heading home."
Matteo frowned at me. "How much did you drink? Your face is bright red. Let me drive you."
"No need. I already called a car."
"It's too late for that. I'll have Luca take you. He barely drank tonight."
Luca looked up at the mention of his name, about to speak, but Adriana curled drowsily around his arm.
"Luca, don't go..."
The room erupted in low whistles and laughter again.
Matteo cleared his throat, visibly awkward. "Forget it. I'll take her myself. You guys keep going."
I followed my brother out of the private room. The hallway of the social club was dim, smelling of old wood and cigar smoke that never quite left the walls. He walked ahead of me, then stopped and turned around.
"Bianca. Something's off with you tonight."
I looked away. "Is it?"
"Yeah."
Matteo turned to face me fully, his eyes locked on mine. He dragged his thumb once over the bridge of his nose, slow and deliberate.
"When Luca kissed Adriana, you cried."
My chest seized. I shook my head quickly. "No, I didn't. Something just got in my eye."
"Cut the crap. I'm your brother. You can fool everyone else, but not me."
Matteo's brow creased, his tone turning serious.
"Do you have feelings for Luca?"
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Feelings didn't begin to cover it.
We'd been together for eight years in secret, and he never once had the courage to acknowledge me before the Family.
"Bianca, I've warned you before. You can fall for any one of my crew. Anyone except Luca. He—"
"Matteo, stop guessing. I just drank too much and felt sick."
Matteo studied me for a long time, then let out a sigh.
"Fine. Get in. I'll take you home."
After I got back, I showered and lay in bed, staring at my phone for a long time. The screen was perfectly still. Not a single message.
Every other late night, Luca would text to ask if I'd gotten home safe.
Tonight, nothing.
He was busy taking care of Adriana. Why would he spare a thought for me?
Eight years at his side, and the moment his old flame walked back into Family society, every bit of it counted for nothing.
So why keep wasting my time?
My fingers drifted to the hollow at my throat, pressing against the bare skin where no pendant hung, where no name protected me. I held the touch there until the sting behind my eyes dulled to something colder. Then my hand dropped away.
I typed out a single line and hit send.
"Luca, let's break up."
The message went through. I powered off my phone, pulled the covers over my head, and forced myself to sleep.
The next morning, the second I turned my phone back on, it blew up.
Over a dozen missed calls from Luca. More than thirty messages.
The last one read: "I'm downstairs."
I pulled back the curtain. His black sedan was parked below my building, angled close to the entrance the way soldiers parked when they expected trouble.
He was leaning against the driver's side door, smoking. Even from above, I could see his lighter in his other hand, clicking open and shut, open and shut.
I hesitated, then went downstairs anyway.
Eight years deserved at least a proper ending.
The moment he saw me come out, Luca crushed the cigarette and crossed the distance in quick strides. The lighter vanished into his coat pocket.
"Bianca, you're finally willing to see me."
"Just hear me out. Last night, I was only—"
I cut him off.
"Luca, you don't need to explain."
"You got my message last night. We're done."
His head snapped up, shock written plain across his face.
"Bianca, is this because of last night? Or because I never acknowledged you before the Family?"
"I told you, last night was just a game. I was only trying to get back at Adriana—"
