Merciless Union by Faith Summers

15

Aria

He gave me a choice.

Him or freedom.

The answer should be a no-brainer after the truths he just laid on me. I watch him walk through the door, my eyes glued to his tattooed back and the ridges of sharp muscle carved into his skin.

When he’s gone, I’m still looking and wondering why the choice isn’t a no-brainer for me.

I’m not thinking of the choice itself, and I’m not sure if that’s testament to how fucked up my mind is or if it’s my heart that refuses to let go.

The shitty thing about this is I know what my problem is, and I think Lucca knows it too.

My problem is him.

I’ve been around him long enough to know how he works.

He’s all about psychology. The effect of him is all mental. It could be the smallest thing or the biggest. His actions are all designed to leave a psychological effect on a person. Before they even know it, he has them tangled in his web, and it’s too late to move.

For me, he took my heart, and we both know that didn’t happen at any time in recent years.

I loved him from the first time I saw him.

That was why I remembered that day as I watched him bleeding out on the living room floor when Jon shot him.

I remembered that day because that was the first time I knew what love was and felt like, and we hadn’t even spoken yet.

Neither of us has expressed those words to each other, but we don’t need to.

That’s what this choice is about and why I’m having a hard time getting my head around it.

Most of all, a man like Lucca doesn’t offer a choice like that if it doesn’t benefit him in some way. If he didn’t feel the same way about me, he wouldn’t have offered the option to stay with him.

I must sit there for over an hour mulling over everything we spoke about and thinking about us, and last night.

Last night was the first time we were together like that since the horrible truths came out about my father. It suggested we could still be together outside of everything that’s happened.

Now I don’t know.

I guess maybe I didn’t want Dad to be right.

Although Lucca saved me years ago, and he’s continued to save me, hearing Lucca set out to kill me damaged that feeling of safety I naturally feel when I’m with him.

Even if my love for him could allow me to move past it and focus on how many times he’s redeemed himself and shown how much he cares for me, there’s the issue with that bastard Damien owning the company.

How can I be okay with that?

I could never forget the way Damien treated me like nothing. Then he basically told me Mom’s death was a lucky break for her.

If I stay with Lucca, I’d have to watch that asshole conquer my family. But even if I don’t stay with Lucca, the same thing will happen.

Lucca is going to keep the promise to Damien whether I stay or go.

So, the real decision and choice rest solely on whether or not I want to be with him.

Stay married to him and have to deal with the shit or forget him and the magic forever.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to make such a big decision.

Leaving Lucca would just mean I wouldn’t see what happens to Cervantes.

Damien taking my family’s legacy wouldn’t be in my face, and I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I could go back to Boston and finish school at Berklee, then just live there.

This is definitely something I need to give deep thought to because I don’t think my feelings for Lucca will be enough to make me stay.

I shower, washing my body of Lucca’s touch and all traces last night left on me.

I change into a simple summer dress with the plan to take a book from the library and stay out by the lake for the day. Maybe by Marylin’s cottage. I need to feel close to something, or rather the essence of someone who meant me no harm.

When she was here, we’d talk or go out or cook together. I never knew how much I took that for granted. I miss her for those things, but most of all, I miss her because of who she is, and I don’t want her to be in a hospital bed fighting for her life.

I grab one of the Shakespeare collections she left for me and head out to the lake. There I sit cross-legged under the Weeping Willow and start reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

That was the play Marylin, and I went to watch the week of the wedding.

While it’s one of my favorites, and I’ve read it at least six times in the last two years, I was in a strange mood at the play because I’d just discovered Pasha was my childhood monster. I’d barely spoken to Marylin, and I felt bad after because I knew she was excited for us to go to the play together.

So much has happened in these few short weeks compared to the last two and a half years.

When I awoke from the coma, it was like Dad kept me in a glass ball, then it shattered on that night Lucca kidnapped me from the club.

Movement before me makes me lift my head, and I’m momentarily thrown when I see the new maid escorting Olivia Romanov toward me.

The new maid, whose name is Yuliana, smiles at me, as does Olivia.

With the restrictions and threat to safety, I didn’t expect to see anybody besides maybe Dr. Belmont.

Yuliana leaves, and Olivia continues the rest of the way with a bright smile on her face.

With the sun beaming down on her white-blonde hair, it looks like a mass of light on her head—like an angel with a bright halo.

“Hi, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she begins.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to see you.” I don’t know her very well, but I feel it wouldn’t be difficult or take long for us to become friends.

That’s, of course, if I choose to stay in Lucca’s world.

“I won’t stay long, I promise.”

“Honestly, that’s not a problem. It’s nice to have another person to speak to.” when I don’t really want to speak to my husband—wherever he is.

I have no idea where Lucca went, and honestly, it’s fine that he’s keeping a low profile.

“I thought so. I wanted to check on you after the other night.”

“Thanks for coming. Do you want to go back inside? We could have lunch or something.” I look over her chic little navy dress, matching purse, and Prada pumps.

Unlike me, she’s not dressed to hang out in the grass like we’re a bunch of teenaged girls having a lazy afternoon. Olivia Romanov looks like she’d be more at home at Fashion Week or attending a luncheon with the president and first lady.

She laughs when she sees me looking at her attire and slips off her shoes.

“Out here is just fine.” She sits cross-legged opposite me and looks at my book. “That’s one of my favorites. I did a degree in English literature.”

“That’s really cool. I’m supposed to be a violinist.”

“Supposed to be?” She quirks a brow.

“I lost my memories after an accident.” I’m guessing from the saddened look on her face, she didn’t know that about me. It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t know, so I get to tell them.

“My gosh, I’m so sorry. That must be awful.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So, you don’t remember how to play the violin?”

“No. To me, it looks like a mini guitar. Maybe one day I’ll get my memories back. Books help me pass the time.”

“They were my friends too for many years. How are you feeling? Are you any better?”

I press my lips together and wonder how I should answer that question. I’m not physically hurt anymore, whereas I was when she last saw me. So that’s something better.

“My head is better.”

“What about the rest of you?” She gives me a curious stare.

I shake my head. “Not so much.”

“Look, Aria, I know we don’t know each other, and I might be stepping over the line and putting my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I felt you might need someone to talk to. Someone who’s been with a guy outside the realms of society for a bit longer than you have. But it’s okay if you don’t want to talk.” She nods. “I will mind my business and go right back home.”

I chuckle. “Maybe I do need to talk.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

I’m not sure I can talk to anyone about the darker things that have happened to me, but maybe I can talk about the things surrounding the ultimatum Lucca has given me.

I’m still not sure what to do, and I don’t know that I’ll be anywhere close to knowing tomorrow night at eight when he wants his answer.

Olivia looks like the happy suburban wife, and I’m curious to know how she does it.

“What’s it like being the wife of a Pakhan? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. That’s exactly what I thought you would ask me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s an obvious question, Aria, and the answer is, it’s hard. It is hard to keep secrets from friends and live from one day to the next, not knowing if your husband will come back to you alive or if you’ll be in danger. In my case, it’s my kids and me.”

“How do you do it?”

“I used to live a life where I was always afraid, and I realized there were worse things than being with a guy in the mafia. My husband makes me feel safe.”

Those words grip me because mine does, too, even with the looming truth over my head.

“What if safety is not enough?” I choose safety as we’re talking about it, even though I meant ‘love.’ I didn’t want to set off any alarm bells that Lucca and I are having problems.

“It’s going to be different for everybody. Safety is my thing. I know Aiden would die protecting me and making sure I was safe. For you, it might be something else. But it depends on what you want most. People say you can’t help who you love, but I think you can. I think it’s more about how that person makes you feel and what you know you feel for them.”

“What happens when you want more?”

“Then you have to be true to yourself. Nothing is more important than that. You think of what you want most, and that will always be the answer.”

I rest my chin on my knees and look at the flow of water rippling through the lake.

If I ask myself that question, the answer is freedom.

When I first got here, I promised myself I’d find a way out.

I found it.

Lucca offered it to me.