CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3:

"Luca, you are not listening," his father, Leo Romano's voice cut through the fog clouding his mind and brought Luca back to the present.

Luca blinked and sat up straight. He had zoned out again. He was still seeing the lady from that night, her laughter, her smile, and the sparkle of her eyes behind the mask. Sometimes, even when he listened to the most critical discussions, he just could not shake off that memory from his mind.

"Father, sorry," Luca mumbled, clearing his throat. He glared at the man opposite him across the table, trying to mask his momentary lapse. His father's steely gaze narrowed once more with suspicion.

"Luca, I don't need distractions now," his father continued, lacing into his voice a healthy dose of impatience. "We're on the brink of war with De Lucas. You know what that means, don't you?"

He clenched his teeth, head spinning as he willed himself to focus. He knew well enough what that portended: bloodshed, infighting for control, an attack on everything his family had worked to build. Yet grave as that situation was, the image wouldn't dislodge from his mind: that mysterious woman. Though he didn't yet know her true identity. She became a specter haunting his every waking moment.

"Yeah, I know," he replied in a low, even tone. "The De Luca family have been a pain in our side for years. Whatever is coming, I am ready for it."

His father stared at him, his eyes boring into him as if he would like to read his mind. "Are you?" he returned with that weightier intonation. "Because it would appear to me that your mind has been elsewhere of late. This is no time for distractions, Luca. Not when there's so much hanging in the balance."

His father's words mean more to him, though, as he stands up and faces his father in the eye, steadfast, "I'm not confused, I know what I have to do."

But even as he spoke the words, a pang stirred his chest, deep in the subconscious knowing he lied. He still thought of her; this woman who went out on him that night-who left him wanting more and wondering if he'd ever see her again.

"Then prove it," his father snapped, voice whetted and pitiless as the blade of a knife. "The De Lucases will strike when we least expect them to. I need you to keep sharp-be prepared for anything they might try to pull. You're my right-hand man, Luca. I need to know I can count on you to keep our family safe."

The rebuke lanced Luca, and for a moment, he steeled himself. I can do this, he told himself. He had no other choice. Family came first above everything.

"I won't let you down, Father," he said with a steady and controlled voice. "The De Lucas won't get past us. We'll be ready."

His father nodded then, for what felt like the first time, pleased. "Good. We have a meeting later this week with De Lucas. Be sure you're ready to take the lead. I want the De Luca family to understand we are not stepping down."

Luca nodded as his gaze followed his father's rise to his feet to close the meeting. His father walked out the door of the room, but his brain continued back to her-that mystery woman.

Long afterward, Luca was pacing in the courtyard, his head attempting to iron out things, but something about his night with her-nothing like he had ever experienced-had.  He had seen in her the spark of freedom, a flight away from the pressures he carried along in life-responsibility and control. Well, she vanished by the first light of dawn. It now felt like she had vanished into nowhere and that he had been looking for her ever since.

He combed his fingers through his hair; frustration churned. Why couldn't he let it go? He had always been proud of being centered, capable of giving up emotion and holding onto duty. Now that center was unraveling, slipping from his hands like sand.

Just then he heard the tread of footsteps down the hall and turned, half-expecting to see his father returning for another lecture. But instead he caught sight of a woman-a slender figure that disappeared around the corner at the far end of the hall.

His heart leapt. She was garbed in a familiar color of dark green-in color his mystery woman had worn at the masquerade.

He knew he ran, his legs picking up the pace as he chased her down the corridor. Heart beating in his ears, a swirl of emotion that was half excitement and half desperation propelling him onward. Could it be? Unlikely he knew, yet unable to stop himself.

He turned the corner, his eyes scanning the hallway, but no one was there. ‘Was he starting to imagine her?” Frustration churning in his chest, hands clenched at his sides.

It's utter rubbish, he thought, anger taut in his mind. I can't keep dancing after shadows.

Yet he couldn't shake the hollowness in his chest, the missing that seemed to expand. She is out there somewhere, and he can't let her go, not unless he knew who she was.

He walked back to his quarters in a bid to shake off leftover disappointment. But her face plagued him; every time he attempted to steel himself and concentrate on duties at hand, the sound of laughter, the smile-the way she looked at him that evening would flash across his mind and pull him away from reality.

His mobile whirred on the table, distracting him from his thoughts. He answered it from one of his men.

"Boss, your father wants a word. He's waiting in his office.”

He stepped into his father's office, where his father was waiting by the window. “You asked to see me.”

“Our incoming shipment has been delayed.” He turned to Luca. “I want you to go see it and sort everything out immediately.”

“Yes, Father.” He turned and walked out the door, going back to his room.

He got dressed and tried to shake every thought of that woman out of his head. He knew he couldn't afford distraction. His head had to be in the game if he wanted to protect his family from the De Luca family.

He got into his car and drove out of the family mansion. Stuck in traffic, he noticed a figure further down: a woman, her back to him, dark hair streaming down her back.

For a moment his breath held, and he was there, tugged by the whisper of possibility. Was it her?

He got out of the car and ran towards her "Excuse me!" he yelled, trying to get her attention.

She was turning, but in her turn, because she faced him now, the disappointment receded again. It was a stranger, a passerby, with a question in her gaze, looked at him.

“Can I help you?”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

She's gone, he thought, its weight thick inside his chest. Now just a memory.

The only faith that stayed within his mind as he turned and walked away from this stranger was that she was gone, one thought booming loud and refusing to let go of their hold on him.

"I'll find you," he whispered, a promise to this relentless memory of a woman.