I was still trying to digest the secrets. I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell it must be like in Lucian Morelli’s body without even a vague idea of pain. He must be so curious about it. I would be—little miss curious. I was already curious enough about how curious he must be, let alone be that curious for myself.
I wondered if he was wondering what my wreck of a past was like. Maybe he was curious too. Maybe he was wondering the things I had wondered, like just why Uncle Lionel was so cruel to his own flesh and blood.
As it turns out, he was wondering that. His next question was right on the mark. “Did your father never suspect your uncle was an utter piece of shit?”
“No,” I said, pure and simple. “He wasn’t really that involved with Uncle Lionel. Mom and Uncle Lionel had quite a close relationship. I guess she assured Dad that I really did need the lessons and Uncle Lionel really was telling the truth.”
“Your uncle is a vile piece of fucking shit,” Lucian said, and it took me aback. He actually insulted someone for hurting me. I thought he’d be singing their praises.
“They’re still close, Mom and Lionel,” I told him. “It’s not like I could ever have another attempt at telling her what really happened now that I’m older. She’s ashamed to call me her daughter.”
I would have usually expected him to laugh and say it’s not surprising she would be ashamed of me, considering I was Elaine the fuck-up, but it turned out that expectation of mine was instinct and nothing else. He didn’t laugh or say a word like that, just kept on watching me from the other side of the kitchen.
I sighed before I spoke again. “The reason my family are after the Power brothers likely doesn’t have anything to do with me, you know? It’s probably just from embarrassment and distaste at the Powers thinking they could kidnap one of us.”
“The Power brothers would have been crazy to think about striking at your family. They aren’t strong enough. That’s why they want us to join up with them.”
I didn’t like the nasty flutter I got at that. I didn’t like the thought of the Morellis and the Powers hurting the people I loved. I did love a lot of them. I loved some members of my family enough that I’d be absolutely devastated in grief if anything happened to them—even if my emotions were usually too fucked up by hate to register shit about love.
“Do you think you’ll team up with them?” I asked him.
His eyes were cold. “None of your business.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I scoffed and moved over to the cutting board. “None of my business, whatever. We’ve shared plenty that’s none of each other’s business this evening, don’t you think?”
He cursed under his breath at me, and I suspected it would be at my chatter, but no. “You’re not slicing that fucking salami right, it’s too thick to cook properly.”
Even through the hatred and the confusion of what the hell was truly going on between us, I couldn’t help but smile. “Alright then, Chef Morelli. Why don’t you show me just how it’s done?”
He didn’t reply, just took the knife off me and got to work.
I watched his hands moving so firmly. His fingers so strong.
I watched him.
His stance, his height, his power.
His beauty. Because he was beautiful.
Lucian Morelli was beautiful enough to take my breath away, no matter how many times I truly looked at him like that. “Look at the salami and learn your damn lesson,” he told me, and I laughed out loud.
“That’s one damn lesson I never thought I’d be having,” I said. “I’ll take that over the ones from my past any day, thanks.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucian
Pasta came quickly. We headed to the dining table, looking surprisingly like two regular people enjoying their dinner. It was probably the closest I’d ever been to a regular person enjoying their dinner—especially with a little doll to enjoy it with.
I told myself I didn’t like it. I watched Elaine picking at her food and told myself that I was going to take pleasure in wrecking her, but it was bullshit.
My mind was all on the sick fucks who’d messed with her.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake off the rage in me. I wanted to take them down. I wanted to look Lionel Constantine in his lecherous eyes and tell him I was there for his niece and then stab him in the gut and twist the blade.
It would be an action that could only be by my own hand. I could never get Alto involved in that, not now that he was a snake to my father. There’s no way I could get the cleanup team involved either; it would never stay silent. Which only left me.
My plan and my outcome. I’d be a fool for even considering it, so why was I planning on checking out the calendar for Constantine engagements? I had no fucking idea.
Elaine made casual conversation with me as we ate. I should have told her to shut her mouth and ignored her completely, but I didn’t. She was filled with questions about my life in Bishop’s Landing and what my life was like as a boy, through to what damn TV shows I liked.
“I don’t have time for TV. Never have.”
“Is that all you do?” she asked me. “Work constantly?”
“Work and fuck women.”
“Great. Clearly that relaxes you.”
It was the sass in her smile that I found so damn impossible to raise my hackles to. I was becoming used to her impudence, seeing it for the shield it truly was. I couldn’t help but wonder what woman she would have become if it wasn’t for the pieces of shit who’d spent years using her for their sick thrills. If she’d managed to take all that and still made it to this much of a vibrant version of Elaine, then who the fuck would she have been if she’d been allowed to grow in her own sunny garden without the sick fuck gardeners?
Still, that wasn’t my consideration and should never even enter my brain space. Elaine was my enemy. My enemy. She’d always be my enemy.
I cut through her bullshit small talk with a fresh question. “Who else did that shit to you?”
She was visibly shocked by my outburst. “Why does it matter?”
My scowl was instant. “Who gives a shit about why it matters? Just open your mouth and give me an answer.”
It seems she was becoming used to my ways too. She didn’t scowl or frown at my tone. “You must know who it was, Lucian. You know who’s in the fellowship. You said so.”
“Tell me then,” I said to her. “Just fucking say it.”
She picked at the last of her pasta then put her fork down. “Baron Rawlings,” she said. “He was one of them.”
I pictured the old man, parading his status. “Who else?”
She started picking at her pasta again. “Lord Eddington.”
I knew it. Eddington was a snide piece of shit. “Keep going.”
It took her a minute, and I let her have one, chewing over her answer until she was ready to spit it out. “Colonel Hardwick,” she whispered, and I knew why it had taken her a while. Colonel Hardwick was particularly close to her family.
I knew those socialite pricks were regular attendees at social engagements throughout the year. Lord Eddington and Baron Rawlings were from across the Atlantic, but visited often. I imagined they would use Reverend Lynch’s place as a stop-off point along with their bullshit social stays.