The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 18

Pierce

Raisedvoices reach me through the front door of the house. I quickly unlock it and push the thing open hard enough that it crashes against the wall, bouncing back toward me. I barrel forward into the living room. The yelling comes to an abrupt halt, as do I.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to speak to your mother?” The woman in question sniffs with disdain.

Sofia De Luca is dressed in her usual pristine white pantsuit, without a single wrinkle, and matching heels. She’s covered in diamonds from the gaudy, shoulder-length dangling earrings to six of her ten fingers. The sneer on her face as she stares down her nose at me completes the outfit.

“You only seem to remember you’re a mother when it’s convenient for you.” I glance at Francesca, who’s beet-red with rage, and whose eyes sparkle with unshed tears, whether from anger or pain. With the viper in front of me, it could be either. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Why the hell had Chess let her in?

“I heard that gutter trash was getting out of the hospital soon, and I wanted to make sure Francesca stayed away from him. He needs to stop sniffing around her.”

My sister growls. “Don’t you dare talk about Gio like that.”

“I can speak about him any way I wish. That boy is trash, and will remain trash, no matter how far he tries to reach,” my mother says.

My fists clench at my side. “Don’t act like you suddenly care who your daughter is friends with. And if you continue to speak ill of Giovanni in front of Francesca, then I will personally throw you out of here. This is my house, and you know you’re not welcome here.”

She stares at me with the cold eyes I inherited from her. “You haven’t changed a bit while you were gone. Don’t think because Emilio is now head of this organization that it gives you some type of power. You’re still that weak little boy. You always will be. Threatening your own mother only proves it.”

With those words she strides out the door with her nose in the air. If she were less dignified, she would probably slam it behind her. But Sofia De Luca is nothing if not the façade of class she presents to the world.

“She’s wrong, you know. God, I hate her,” she spits.

Francesca’s heated words make me turn back to her. If anyone has a right to their hatred, it’s us.

“She’s not worth wasting the emotion on,” I shake my head. “Why did you let her in? You know how she is.”

My sister drops onto the couch with a sigh. “Do you ever think people can change? Or at least, you wish they would?”

“No,” I tell her. “People are who they are. They might pretend to be someone else, but deep down, they’re always going to be exactly who and what they’ve always been.”

It’s true. No matter the image I present, the minute I’m in my mother’s presence, I revert back to that weak little boy she claims me to be. The one who cares too much. The one who’s too emotional. I shake off the memories to find Francesca looking at me.

“That’s really sad, if you actually believe that.” She glances toward the door and back to me. “You’re right, though. I don’t think Mother will ever change, and I need to accept that fact.”

It’s a tough lesson, and I hate that my sister is learning it. “How’s Gio doing, anyway?” I change the subject.

“He’s being the worst patient ever. Demanding. Cranky. I’m sure the nurses are ready for him to be discharged. He told me he’s leaving tomorrow, whether the doctor says he can or not.”

I can’t blame the guy. Hospitals are shitty places to be. “I’m glad he’s going to be all right.”

Francesca would have been devastated otherwise. I take a seat next to her and reach for her hand. I clear my throat. Apologizing doesn’t come easy to me. Not to any of the men in our family. “I’m sorry about what happened the other day. Outside Gio’s room. I never should have told Jacob without your permission.”

“No, I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.” She sighs. “Do you ever forget that something even happened to you?”

“Sometimes,” I say truthfully. Although, there’s more times than not that I wish I could forget certain things.

“That was one of those things. It’s like it happened to someone else. But then, to hear you talking about it? It just brought back all those memories and overwhelmed me.”

I tip her chin up. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Francesca scoots close and lays her head against my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, then raises her head to look at me after a moment. “Do you ever get lonely?”

An immediate denial rises to my lips, but something holds me back. My mother’s visit shook me more than I’d like to admit. I’ve gone nearly seven years without seeing that vicious woman. I’ve spent three times that long squashing any emotion that dares try to show itself. Aside from the anger. Holding onto it for this long has been exhausting. I’ve never admitted that to myself before.

“Sometimes,” I finally confess.

Francesca picks up my hand and laces her fingers through mine, staring at their joining. “Me too. But I’m scared. What if I can never be normal enough to have a relationship? To get married? To have a baby?”

“You are normal. Don’t let mother, or anyone else for that matter, make you think you aren’t. There is nothing wrong with you, Chess.” I gently squeeze her hand. “I’m not saying that having those things is going to be easy, but you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. If you want those things to happen, they will. It may just take time and someone special who is willing to let you have it.”

“Do you think,”—she hesitates for several seconds—“Do you think Giovanni is special?”

“I think only you can answer that question,” I tell her.

“What about you? Don’t you want to find someone special? I’m not talking about Gianna, either.” She wrinkles her nose in clear distaste.

An image of too-big blue eyes and a mop of short blonde hair flashes inside my head. I shift on the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe someday. When I’m old and gray and walking with a cane, most likely.”

I say it to try and make Francesca smile, but instead she glances up at me with our father’s warm and caring eyes and a serious expression on her face. “You deserve to not be lonely. I want you to find a woman who can look beyond that tough guy act you present to the outside world. A woman who sees you, all of you, the good parts and the bad, and still can’t stop herself from loving you. That’s what I want for you.”

We remain sitting quietly, the silence comfortable between us. I can’t get Francesca’s words out of my head though. She’s made me think about my life, and what I want out of it. Hours later, long after my sister has gone to bed, I’m still thinking about it.