#luca changretta fanficition

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Eight.

Fuck it, it's Friday, I'm feeling generous, have another chapter! Enjoy, besties!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,145

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Hundreds of times. Hundreds? She didn’t know why, when infidelity was infidelity, but having the assumption that he’d only partook of a few extra marital dalliances shattered by the fact that it had been over a hundred women throughout the eighteen-year span of his marriage, was suddenly so much worse to bear. Especially when he’d surmised it as “a few” when confessing that to her.  

Hundreds was far from few. 

Not really knowing what to do or where to go, she wandered through the rooms, hearing her name called eventually when she got to the sprawling lounge. 

“Dolly, hey. You alright?” Greta asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the woman feeling her heart sink. “No, you aren't. Come on, come here.” She let herself be pulled into the hug, crying further, feeling tumultuous inside. “Scared, huh, that he’ll do the same thing to you.” 

“No... maybe... oh, god, I don’t know,” she sniffed, pulling back, thanking Greta for the handkerchief she offered. “He says it’s different with me, that he hasn’t cheated and doesn’t plan on doing so either. Am I stupid to believe that? When he told me he’d been unfaithful in the past, he left out the part detailing exactly how much. He said a few, Greta. Hundreds is not a few!” 

Her friend sighed through a sad smile, her eyebrows drawing up, eyes full of sympathy for the poor girl. “I can’t answer that question for you, toots. All I can say though is, and I dunno if this is wishful thinking or not, but maybe he’s got it outta his system now? He’s forty-three, more grown than he was back in his twenties when he and Fil got married. Maybe he just didn’t wanna scare you by being so candid with the exact number?”  

She was attempting her best to stick a dressing over her pain, and while Emily thought such charity was very indicative of Greta’s kind nature, it wasn’t what she needed. “Do leopards ever really change their spots?” 

Shrugging, Greta called upon a few examples. “Well, the man used to chain smoke like a chimney, but quit two years back since he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think my chest is meant to fuckin’ rattle when I breathe’, which he noticed went away the less he smoked. S’why he always has the...” 

“Toothpick,” Emily finished for her, “to distract himself from wanting to light up. Yeah, he told me about that. It isn’t the same, though. Smoking is a habit.” 

“So’s fucking other women, dolly. Habits can be broken, if you want it badly enough.”  

Sighing, she looked down at her feet for a second, lips pursing as she twisted them from side to side, still under the duress of discomfort though her tears had finally stopped. “It’s the fact he glossed over it that bothers me more than anything.” Leaning to Greta, she kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to take a little walk; I need to calm down.” 

Her walk took her across the property over to a long line of trees, a dirt road that looked to lead down to a group of outbuildings. She’d have taken the lake, but she didn’t want to run into Luca on his way around it with the kids. Besides, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.  

It was conflicting to her, having virtually no temper, always preferring the calm approach regarding conflict and now being left with nothing but fury in her belly and the desire to slap his face for downplaying his infidelities. Why had he lied? If he’d opened up enough to tell her in the first place, be candid, then why was he hiding the complete truth?  

Her mind could only go to one place; the place of him knowing deep down, he’d probably do it again. That was, if he hadn’t already.  

Fear shunted through her veins like a freight train, the distressing thought of losing him because he couldn’t be faithful to her. The pain of it crushed her fragile spirit, and that was only in imagining what it would be like to discover his deceit. It flew in stark contrast to the fact that Emily well knew his gaze towards her was fonder than anybody else, save his children. Love came in at the eyes and took a path directly to the heart, and every time he looked at her, she felt it beam his adoration right into her chest.  

Truly, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and she honestly had believed him when he’d sworn he hadn’t ever been untrue to her. Funnily enough, she was perhaps the only person in his life who knew when he was lying. He didn’t do it often, but every time he did, his thumb stroked over the crucifix tattoo upon the middle finger of his right hand, as if silently asking forgiveness from god for his sins. It was a barely noticeable tell, but she’d picked up on it when witnessing him bullshitting people.  

Reaching the outbuildings, she saw that it had once housed a stable block, the structure now crumbling from rotted wood, in no fit state to house a living creature. It was a shame, she thought, imagining what it must have looked like back when it was built, which she guessed was likely in the eighteen seventies, going on the overall design of the property.  

He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. 

Filomena’s words smacked her sharply again, raking a hand through her curls as she sighed, kicking a pebble across the dusty ground beneath her feet. Would he, though? Was the man who was all hers truly looking to seek out an alternative to it just being him and her? The man who confessed his sins to her in the dead of night as they lay talking, truly, would he forsake the bond they shared for the dalliance with a warm body that was not hers?  

She’d truly liked to have thought she was much less naive than she had been in the almost six months she had been in his life for, learning from him how not to let anyone take her for a ride, learn how to be shrewder, wiser, less easy to manipulate. Why teach her to be anything else, if he indented to hoodwink her? Surely, the man would want her to remain the unworldly little waif who always put her trust in the wrong people, should he have planned to be deceitful to her?  

It didn’t make sense.  

A frown knitted her dainty features, turning to slope off back the way she’d come, her ears picking up on the sound of a cawing coming from one of the huge trees to the side of the path. Looking up, there upon the branches slowly becoming thicker with the lush green of spring, sat a pure white crow. She’d never seen one before, stopping to look up at the bird, its blue eyes staring back at her before it began to caw again, ruffling its feathers.  

A second bird then swooped down, its coal black wings wide, folding neatly as it landed beside its white counterpart, the creatures making soft noises of greeting to one another. She witnessed it, the little display of affection, the black one beginning to preen the white, gentle beak clicks sounding its contentment.  

They reminded her of she and Luca; the light and the dark, bonded effortlessly despite being so different.  

Walking back towards the house, she still had no idea what on earth to say to him when they came face to face, picking out the figure of Filomena still sitting outside, hearing the sound of the children screaming with mirth as they ran up from the lake. She thought he’d maybe gone inside already, but as she took the stone steps that led back up the rolling garden, she heard him shout behind her, telling Guiseppe not to throw rocks at his sister.  

She hurried her pace, wanting to move back into the house and avoid him, but that wasn’t easy when her man had legs longer than the average Derby winner. “Hey, where are you rushing to, amore?” 

The face he was met with took him aback, her expression hardened a little as her eyes darted and she dropped her chin. “Inside.” 

Of course, he persisted. “What’s wrong, huh? You’re not your usual self.”  

His hands prevented her movement, Emily pulling herself from his grasp, her hand moving to strike him sharply across the cheek. It was the first time she’d slapped anyone, and she hated it, especially watching the confusion and anger flit across his face, his mood darkening rapidly. “I never am when I’m lied to. A few, you told me of your affairs. Not over a hundred women, as I learned.” 

He bit his back teeth together, his head snapping to look up at the house, where Filomena sat, a very captive audience to it. “I told you not to listen to her poison, Emily. I explicitly told you that.”  

The fact he couldn’t meet her eye confirmed it. “It isn’t poison when it’s true though, is it? No matter how malicious her intent was. It’s still true, and you still tried to hide that from me.”  

Walking away, she was just stepping back into the house again when she heard Luca explode like a bomb, hurling insults towards his ex-wife in savagely delivered Italian, his fury let loose. “Excuse me, please can you show me up to the bedroom?” she asked Catherine, the housekeeper who had come with them, the woman nodding as she changed direction immediately.  

She looked relieved to be escaping the immediate proximity of the Italian hellfire being flung back and forth outside, Emily closing her ears to it as she trotted up the many steps comprising the marble staircase behind the woman who looked like she had seen the two people they’d left in their wake becoming furious with one another one too many times before.  

“End of the hallway, miss. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and help chef prepare dinner.” Pulling her shoes from her slightly sore feet, she carried them while padding along the carpeted hallway, again studying her surroundings as she went, trying to take her mind off her current predicament.  

Entering the bedroom, her mouth fell open, the space absolutely beautiful. It was all art deco, the decadence actually very simply done, black walls with white mouldings and ceiling, the hardwood floor furnished with fluffy white rugs, and as Luca had already revealed, a very big four poster bed in the centre. Sitting on the edge, she fell back into the comfort of the fresh, white linen, her eyes picking out the details of the ornate moulding around the chandelier that hung above, glad she was surrounded by silence.  

Needing something to do in order to keep her mind occupied, she moved to where their belongings had been placed, Luca bringing very little with him since he of course already had everything he needed right there. She began to hang up her own items in the large, sparse wardrobe, knowing that she’d packed too much, remembering back to that morning when he’d told her that, too.  

Just as she was placing her jewellery away, her peace was disturbed by a tightly wound looking Luca, coming in and clicking the door shut behind him.  

“Emily, I’m sorry for what she said to you.” 

An interesting choice of words. “You’re sorry for what she said, but not the fact you tried to hide the extent of your philandering from me?” She spoke tersely, fingers untangling her multi-stranded pearl necklace. She knew she should have brought it up in a box as opposed to the silk bag she’d stashed everything in to save space. 

He moved to her, standing there in imposition, giving her no choice but to eventually look up at him once she’d finished her task. “Please, honey. Don’t let her get between us. This? It's exactly what that fuckin’ rattlesnake of a woman is lookin’ for.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears. “It might be what she’s looking for, I don’t deny that from what you’ve told me about her. She isn’t coming between us, though. I asked you straight up, how many times you’d been unfaithful to her and what was your reply? A few. A fucking few! Losing count when you got to a hundred isn’t a few, Luca. Jesus god!” 

Moving to the window, she needed space between them, irritated when he followed her. “Emily, just listen...” 

“To what?” she snapped, “more lies?” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I wanted to spare you it, the fuckin’ ugly truth of the man I was with her.” He reached for her cheek, stroking it, his chest a field of sharpened glass when she knocked his hand away. “I ain’t that man anymore, baby. Not now I have you.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes fixing him sternly. “You still lied to me. I needed to know the whole truth, Luca.” 

“Oh, you fuckin’ did, huh?” he replied, his agitation winding once more, like somebody weaving thread into a loom. Why wasn’t the fact he wanted to be better for her enough?  

“Yes, I fucking did!” she yelled, tipping him to explosion. 

“What is it that you want me to tell you, Emily? You wanna hear it all, huh? How I was fuckin’ everything with a pulse from day one? You wanna hear how I took a waitress into the bathroom at my own wedding and fucked her over the sinks? Or how about when nobody could get a hold of me when Fil was in labour with Milania, because instead of bein’ a good husband and waiting outside for my first child to arrive, I was at a private sex club in Manhattan in the middle of an orgy? How about that, huh?” 

It hit her in cold waves, to hear of such behaviour, delivered so loudly too. He never shouted or went on angry tirades, and she hated bearing the brunt of it. It wasn’t her he was angry at, though, and she saw it so clearly. He couldn’t meet her eye, pacing slowly as he dropped his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  

She moved to him, reaching for his arm, stroking the lean muscle beneath the white shirt. “It isn’t Filomena you’re mad at, is it?” 

His eyes locked onto a point in the distance, jaw tightened, offering only silence.  

“Luca, you can’t make amends for how you acted in your marriage by being flawless in your relationship with me. And I love that you are, I believe you when you say you haven’t and won’t stray from me. I’m not the one who needs your apology, though. She does. She’s still hurting because you hurt her.”  

There it was, the truth his ego had successfully stuffed down for the last year, tried to mask behind the lie he told himself that his wife didn’t care about his infidelity when in fact, she did. She simply didn’t want to break her heart or her marriage by confronting him over it, until she was literally confronted by his adultery right there in their bed.  

He’d never be a good man, not truly. He was the head of an organised crime family, after all. He could, however, be better to the people who cared about him, though. Even if it was now in past tense. His pride still swelled, much too strongly to come out and tell Emily she was right in that moment, his eyes finally finding hers as he turned, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.  

“Gimme a minute.” Striding out of the room, he moved through the house, Emily looking down at the lawn below where Filomena stood, Luca joining her after a few moments.  

She turned around, her eyes glassy, looking up at the man who had torn her heart out, Luca opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head multiple times as she wept against his chest, finally - and earnestly - delivering the words she’d so sorely needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry. For everythin��� I put you through. Wasn’t your fault, it was all me.” 

She cried harder upon hearing the apology, looking up at him, her eyes pleading as she stroked his face. “Then if you’re sorry, come back to me. Please. We’re you’re family, Luca. Send the girl packin’, let’s start again.”  

Her statement took him by huge surprise, seeing the sudden vulnerability in the woman so formidable, so embittered by her need to hurt him as much as he had her. It truly rocked him for a few seconds, letting out a long sigh. He covered her hands for his own for a moment, removing them from his cheeks. “No, Fil,” he spoke, shaking his head, “my future is with her now. I’ve been angry at myself all this time, not you, and you needed to know that. That’s all. I ain’t ever gonna be no one else’s but hers.”  

“She won’t love you like I do,” she tried, Luca shaking his head again.  

“She won’t, no. She loves me differently, holds me fuckin’ accountable, makes me wanna be better. I shouldda been better to you, though. Just know that I know, but we ain’t tryin’ again. It’s not what I want.” He walked away then, knowing she likely wouldn’t take his rejection lying down. It wasn’t the woman she was. The man he’d become, though, was somebody he intended on remaining, going back into the house, finding Emily still within the bedroom, and taking her in his arms to plant a passionate kiss upon her mouth.  

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathless from it, her cheeks flushing.  

He rested his forehead to hers, hands stroking her neck. “For being you, cara mia. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man, but I will be to you. Because of you.” His mouth met hers again, fingers beginning to tease the buttons of her dress undone, their need and longing for one another flickering into greater heat, his big hands grasping her narrow waist and carrying her to the bed.  

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he began, lips planted kisses on her neck, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His lips rained hot over her breasts, pulling her brassiere from her after flicking the clasps undone, “and I need you to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”  

“Don’t tell me,” she gasped, hands all over him, desire charging over her skin. “Show me.” 

Oh, how he showed her. 

[kaetastic]

Tag 9 People That You’d Like To Get To Know Better

ahh! thank you so much @gamingaquarius for the tag! i’m so excited to do this lolol

Top 3 ships: Stucky, Romanogers, Clintasha

Top 3 Pedro characters: AAAA, how will I even answer this??? Okay phewww let’s see the cards on the table... I’d definitely have to just give the first golden trophy to Oberyn Martell. Do you even need a reason?? Like, it’s OBERYN MARTELL. In the second place, Din Djarin. Mando. Straight up. Adorable, husky, sexy- Mando. Javier Peña comes in third, we get BLESSED scenes so yes.

Last Song: At Last by Etta James

Last Movie: Escape From Pretoria (such a freaking intense, suspenseful movie- you HAVE you to place a cent for watching it)

Currently reading: 

In meanings of Fanficition, I tend to read oneshots but I adore series as well. Thank you to the writers who dedicate their time for their WIP! Here is a list of fanfictions (mostly series) I hold close to my heart.

- Ten Percent by @lielullabye ; this story is just magnificent. having ransom AND steve rogers in one series? dang, okay- i was NOT ready. i just, this series makes me want to like scream at ransom but he’s a by :0( I love the contrast between steve rogers’ softness and ransom approach to the reader!! 

- Team Building by @mylifeliterally ; IF YOU WANT A HOT ESFIRIVNR SERIES FOR THE TRIPLE FRONTIER (excluding tom because uhm...) GO AHEAD CLICK ON THAT LINK!!! YOU’RE GONNA SWEAT WITH EVERY LINE LIKE AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- I! LOVE! EVERY WORK BY @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa !!!! LIKE WHATTTT okay. here’s the INCREDIBLE masterlist, I love ‘footprints in the sand’ (with oberyn martell and ellaria sand), I WOULD DIE FOR ‘with cherries on top’ (with max Phillips) and I hold ‘Addicted to you’ (with Frankie Morales) in a cage in my heart. I just- I love all her works, BYE- i might reread everything before I go to sleep lol

- Secret Keeper by @chelsfic ; HORACIO CARRILLO LOVERS STAND UP!!! I SAY STAND UP!!!! if i reread the series once again, it would be my third time reading it. I have to confess. Because I might actually reread it without MISSING A HEARTBEATTT!!!! the angst, the fluff, the SUSPENSE! LIKE MY HEART JUST CLENCHES AT EVERY LINE! i love this writing so much bye i need to cry 

- I have yet to read every single writing by @storiesofthefandomlovers but just grazing my eyes over the masterlist- i’m just left astounded. ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It’ is a series EVERYONE love and adore!! i can vouch for the outstanding quality in every aspect! I was so into the writing, I forget that the movie hasn’t even come out. We love Maxwell Lord by only a few minutes of trailer we have been giving to quench on lol. We drinking every sip of Maxwell Lord content we can get. I love how the story is NOT how some of us expected it to be, there’s always turns and surprising decisions. I’m sad that it had ended but now, I can reread it over and over again. Just to highlight the parts when Max becomes hard every time the reader says Daddy to Snookums (?) lmao. I have also enjoyed the ‘El Baño’ mini-series! hehe <33 Not to mention ‘You should see me in a crown’ (a hot smut with our man oberyn martell, you guessed it, the deed is done on the IRON THRONES HWHWHW YESS)

- Pink + White by @imaginesbymk ; okay, hold me back for this one, I think my love for this series can be heard, and can be seen. Like, I’ve recently swam out of the Peaky Blinders fandom and into the Pedro Pascal’s, but with this series, I’m just enticed with every line. I LOVE THIS SERIES SO MUCH!!!! I HAVE TO CONFESS MY BIG BIG TREMENDOUS LOVE FOR THIS WRITING! IT’S SO ANGSTY, SO SUSPENSEFUL! I LOVE LUCA CHANGRETTA BYE!

- every. single. writing. of @boogiewrites ; i’m head over heels for every line. Like, where do I even start? Tom Hardy’s characters are just so lovable. Alfie Solomons in ‘Choking on Sapphires’ is just perfect. His dialogues make it as if it was actually said by the man, it’s incredible. The twists, the angst, the fluffy moments, the words- it all just leaves me astounded. ‘Reports and Repertoire’ with Venom and Eddie... uhm... the thought of it makes me sweat. Bad Bride, omg just- YES

- @sinner-as-saint just blesses us with writing EACH SINGLE TIME!! like, every line, every smut, every writing, every dialogue- BYE! like infinity starts out of 10. No words can describe the incredibleness, the amazingness of every writing produced. Thank you so much for feeding us your content, thank you for sharing it with us!! I turn giddy at the thought of going through your masterlist once again haha. You want hot, OUT OF THE WORLD smut? head on.

- @marvelcapsicle has managed to capture my heart with Starting Over, I think within one line, people would just be enraptured by the series. it’s so warm to the chest like a fluffy blanket i find comfort in after a stormy day of things not going to plan. the softness of it just lingers throughout the ongoing series. i’m just left shocked at how amazing each line is, the description- the overlooked words, the settings, the characters, the DIALOGUES!!! aaa!!!! one word- AMAZING.

In the meanings of books, I’ve a lot on my plate but I haven’t found the time to do those readings lol. But, Ready Player One, the Wuthering Heights, and a few more but I’m too lazy to search lol

Currently watching: I haven’t brought myself to finish the third season of Narcos (after third episode), I’m just missing Boyd’s narration lol. I’m still recovering over the fact that Carrillo died, BYE! I need to finish Agents Of Shield, like after season 5 lol. 

Food I’m currently craving: I really really really really want some good risotto. Like, not kidding. Not a splash extra of cream or whatever, just perfect to the tongue. Hmmmmm, my mouth’s watering. Maybe some good vanilla ice cream with nutella for dessert. Okay, I’m gonna adventure through my kitchen lol.

No pressure tags: @peak-a-blinder @peakymarvelworld @gamingaquarius (haha back atchu) @the-silver-iris @just-an-outstanding-auror @hecohansen31 @lotsoffandomimagines @lielullabye @dindisneydjarin

[queenofstresss]

Oohhhohoo first lovers quarrel 🤭🤭 love how Emily made Luca realize it was all him in the past.. Now I wanna see how he shows her🥵🥵

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Eight.

Fuck it, it's Friday, I'm feeling generous, have another chapter! Enjoy, besties!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,145

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Hundreds of times. Hundreds? She didn’t know why, when infidelity was infidelity, but having the assumption that he’d only partook of a few extra marital dalliances shattered by the fact that it had been over a hundred women throughout the eighteen-year span of his marriage, was suddenly so much worse to bear. Especially when he’d surmised it as “a few” when confessing that to her.  

Hundreds was far from few. 

Not really knowing what to do or where to go, she wandered through the rooms, hearing her name called eventually when she got to the sprawling lounge. 

“Dolly, hey. You alright?” Greta asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the woman feeling her heart sink. “No, you aren't. Come on, come here.” She let herself be pulled into the hug, crying further, feeling tumultuous inside. “Scared, huh, that he’ll do the same thing to you.” 

“No... maybe... oh, god, I don’t know,” she sniffed, pulling back, thanking Greta for the handkerchief she offered. “He says it’s different with me, that he hasn’t cheated and doesn’t plan on doing so either. Am I stupid to believe that? When he told me he’d been unfaithful in the past, he left out the part detailing exactly how much. He said a few, Greta. Hundreds is not a few!” 

Her friend sighed through a sad smile, her eyebrows drawing up, eyes full of sympathy for the poor girl. “I can’t answer that question for you, toots. All I can say though is, and I dunno if this is wishful thinking or not, but maybe he’s got it outta his system now? He’s forty-three, more grown than he was back in his twenties when he and Fil got married. Maybe he just didn’t wanna scare you by being so candid with the exact number?”  

She was attempting her best to stick a dressing over her pain, and while Emily thought such charity was very indicative of Greta’s kind nature, it wasn’t what she needed. “Do leopards ever really change their spots?” 

Shrugging, Greta called upon a few examples. “Well, the man used to chain smoke like a chimney, but quit two years back since he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think my chest is meant to fuckin’ rattle when I breathe’, which he noticed went away the less he smoked. S’why he always has the...” 

“Toothpick,” Emily finished for her, “to distract himself from wanting to light up. Yeah, he told me about that. It isn’t the same, though. Smoking is a habit.” 

“So’s fucking other women, dolly. Habits can be broken, if you want it badly enough.”  

Sighing, she looked down at her feet for a second, lips pursing as she twisted them from side to side, still under the duress of discomfort though her tears had finally stopped. “It’s the fact he glossed over it that bothers me more than anything.” Leaning to Greta, she kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to take a little walk; I need to calm down.” 

Her walk took her across the property over to a long line of trees, a dirt road that looked to lead down to a group of outbuildings. She’d have taken the lake, but she didn’t want to run into Luca on his way around it with the kids. Besides, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.  

It was conflicting to her, having virtually no temper, always preferring the calm approach regarding conflict and now being left with nothing but fury in her belly and the desire to slap his face for downplaying his infidelities. Why had he lied? If he’d opened up enough to tell her in the first place, be candid, then why was he hiding the complete truth?  

Her mind could only go to one place; the place of him knowing deep down, he’d probably do it again. That was, if he hadn’t already.  

Fear shunted through her veins like a freight train, the distressing thought of losing him because he couldn’t be faithful to her. The pain of it crushed her fragile spirit, and that was only in imagining what it would be like to discover his deceit. It flew in stark contrast to the fact that Emily well knew his gaze towards her was fonder than anybody else, save his children. Love came in at the eyes and took a path directly to the heart, and every time he looked at her, she felt it beam his adoration right into her chest.  

Truly, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and she honestly had believed him when he’d sworn he hadn’t ever been untrue to her. Funnily enough, she was perhaps the only person in his life who knew when he was lying. He didn’t do it often, but every time he did, his thumb stroked over the crucifix tattoo upon the middle finger of his right hand, as if silently asking forgiveness from god for his sins. It was a barely noticeable tell, but she’d picked up on it when witnessing him bullshitting people.  

Reaching the outbuildings, she saw that it had once housed a stable block, the structure now crumbling from rotted wood, in no fit state to house a living creature. It was a shame, she thought, imagining what it must have looked like back when it was built, which she guessed was likely in the eighteen seventies, going on the overall design of the property.  

He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. 

Filomena’s words smacked her sharply again, raking a hand through her curls as she sighed, kicking a pebble across the dusty ground beneath her feet. Would he, though? Was the man who was all hers truly looking to seek out an alternative to it just being him and her? The man who confessed his sins to her in the dead of night as they lay talking, truly, would he forsake the bond they shared for the dalliance with a warm body that was not hers?  

She’d truly liked to have thought she was much less naive than she had been in the almost six months she had been in his life for, learning from him how not to let anyone take her for a ride, learn how to be shrewder, wiser, less easy to manipulate. Why teach her to be anything else, if he indented to hoodwink her? Surely, the man would want her to remain the unworldly little waif who always put her trust in the wrong people, should he have planned to be deceitful to her?  

It didn’t make sense.  

A frown knitted her dainty features, turning to slope off back the way she’d come, her ears picking up on the sound of a cawing coming from one of the huge trees to the side of the path. Looking up, there upon the branches slowly becoming thicker with the lush green of spring, sat a pure white crow. She’d never seen one before, stopping to look up at the bird, its blue eyes staring back at her before it began to caw again, ruffling its feathers.  

A second bird then swooped down, its coal black wings wide, folding neatly as it landed beside its white counterpart, the creatures making soft noises of greeting to one another. She witnessed it, the little display of affection, the black one beginning to preen the white, gentle beak clicks sounding its contentment.  

They reminded her of she and Luca; the light and the dark, bonded effortlessly despite being so different.  

Walking back towards the house, she still had no idea what on earth to say to him when they came face to face, picking out the figure of Filomena still sitting outside, hearing the sound of the children screaming with mirth as they ran up from the lake. She thought he’d maybe gone inside already, but as she took the stone steps that led back up the rolling garden, she heard him shout behind her, telling Guiseppe not to throw rocks at his sister.  

She hurried her pace, wanting to move back into the house and avoid him, but that wasn’t easy when her man had legs longer than the average Derby winner. “Hey, where are you rushing to, amore?” 

The face he was met with took him aback, her expression hardened a little as her eyes darted and she dropped her chin. “Inside.” 

Of course, he persisted. “What’s wrong, huh? You’re not your usual self.”  

His hands prevented her movement, Emily pulling herself from his grasp, her hand moving to strike him sharply across the cheek. It was the first time she’d slapped anyone, and she hated it, especially watching the confusion and anger flit across his face, his mood darkening rapidly. “I never am when I’m lied to. A few, you told me of your affairs. Not over a hundred women, as I learned.” 

He bit his back teeth together, his head snapping to look up at the house, where Filomena sat, a very captive audience to it. “I told you not to listen to her poison, Emily. I explicitly told you that.”  

The fact he couldn’t meet her eye confirmed it. “It isn’t poison when it’s true though, is it? No matter how malicious her intent was. It’s still true, and you still tried to hide that from me.”  

Walking away, she was just stepping back into the house again when she heard Luca explode like a bomb, hurling insults towards his ex-wife in savagely delivered Italian, his fury let loose. “Excuse me, please can you show me up to the bedroom?” she asked Catherine, the housekeeper who had come with them, the woman nodding as she changed direction immediately.  

She looked relieved to be escaping the immediate proximity of the Italian hellfire being flung back and forth outside, Emily closing her ears to it as she trotted up the many steps comprising the marble staircase behind the woman who looked like she had seen the two people they’d left in their wake becoming furious with one another one too many times before.  

“End of the hallway, miss. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and help chef prepare dinner.” Pulling her shoes from her slightly sore feet, she carried them while padding along the carpeted hallway, again studying her surroundings as she went, trying to take her mind off her current predicament.  

Entering the bedroom, her mouth fell open, the space absolutely beautiful. It was all art deco, the decadence actually very simply done, black walls with white mouldings and ceiling, the hardwood floor furnished with fluffy white rugs, and as Luca had already revealed, a very big four poster bed in the centre. Sitting on the edge, she fell back into the comfort of the fresh, white linen, her eyes picking out the details of the ornate moulding around the chandelier that hung above, glad she was surrounded by silence.  

Needing something to do in order to keep her mind occupied, she moved to where their belongings had been placed, Luca bringing very little with him since he of course already had everything he needed right there. She began to hang up her own items in the large, sparse wardrobe, knowing that she’d packed too much, remembering back to that morning when he’d told her that, too.  

Just as she was placing her jewellery away, her peace was disturbed by a tightly wound looking Luca, coming in and clicking the door shut behind him.  

“Emily, I’m sorry for what she said to you.” 

An interesting choice of words. “You’re sorry for what she said, but not the fact you tried to hide the extent of your philandering from me?” She spoke tersely, fingers untangling her multi-stranded pearl necklace. She knew she should have brought it up in a box as opposed to the silk bag she’d stashed everything in to save space. 

He moved to her, standing there in imposition, giving her no choice but to eventually look up at him once she’d finished her task. “Please, honey. Don’t let her get between us. This? It's exactly what that fuckin’ rattlesnake of a woman is lookin’ for.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears. “It might be what she’s looking for, I don’t deny that from what you’ve told me about her. She isn’t coming between us, though. I asked you straight up, how many times you’d been unfaithful to her and what was your reply? A few. A fucking few! Losing count when you got to a hundred isn’t a few, Luca. Jesus god!” 

Moving to the window, she needed space between them, irritated when he followed her. “Emily, just listen...” 

“To what?” she snapped, “more lies?” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I wanted to spare you it, the fuckin’ ugly truth of the man I was with her.” He reached for her cheek, stroking it, his chest a field of sharpened glass when she knocked his hand away. “I ain’t that man anymore, baby. Not now I have you.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes fixing him sternly. “You still lied to me. I needed to know the whole truth, Luca.” 

“Oh, you fuckin’ did, huh?” he replied, his agitation winding once more, like somebody weaving thread into a loom. Why wasn’t the fact he wanted to be better for her enough?  

“Yes, I fucking did!” she yelled, tipping him to explosion. 

“What is it that you want me to tell you, Emily? You wanna hear it all, huh? How I was fuckin’ everything with a pulse from day one? You wanna hear how I took a waitress into the bathroom at my own wedding and fucked her over the sinks? Or how about when nobody could get a hold of me when Fil was in labour with Milania, because instead of bein’ a good husband and waiting outside for my first child to arrive, I was at a private sex club in Manhattan in the middle of an orgy? How about that, huh?” 

It hit her in cold waves, to hear of such behaviour, delivered so loudly too. He never shouted or went on angry tirades, and she hated bearing the brunt of it. It wasn’t her he was angry at, though, and she saw it so clearly. He couldn’t meet her eye, pacing slowly as he dropped his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  

She moved to him, reaching for his arm, stroking the lean muscle beneath the white shirt. “It isn’t Filomena you’re mad at, is it?” 

His eyes locked onto a point in the distance, jaw tightened, offering only silence.  

“Luca, you can’t make amends for how you acted in your marriage by being flawless in your relationship with me. And I love that you are, I believe you when you say you haven’t and won’t stray from me. I’m not the one who needs your apology, though. She does. She’s still hurting because you hurt her.”  

There it was, the truth his ego had successfully stuffed down for the last year, tried to mask behind the lie he told himself that his wife didn’t care about his infidelity when in fact, she did. She simply didn’t want to break her heart or her marriage by confronting him over it, until she was literally confronted by his adultery right there in their bed.  

He’d never be a good man, not truly. He was the head of an organised crime family, after all. He could, however, be better to the people who cared about him, though. Even if it was now in past tense. His pride still swelled, much too strongly to come out and tell Emily she was right in that moment, his eyes finally finding hers as he turned, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.  

“Gimme a minute.” Striding out of the room, he moved through the house, Emily looking down at the lawn below where Filomena stood, Luca joining her after a few moments.  

She turned around, her eyes glassy, looking up at the man who had torn her heart out, Luca opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head multiple times as she wept against his chest, finally - and earnestly - delivering the words she’d so sorely needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry. For everythin’ I put you through. Wasn’t your fault, it was all me.” 

She cried harder upon hearing the apology, looking up at him, her eyes pleading as she stroked his face. “Then if you’re sorry, come back to me. Please. We’re you’re family, Luca. Send the girl packin’, let’s start again.”  

Her statement took him by huge surprise, seeing the sudden vulnerability in the woman so formidable, so embittered by her need to hurt him as much as he had her. It truly rocked him for a few seconds, letting out a long sigh. He covered her hands for his own for a moment, removing them from his cheeks. “No, Fil,” he spoke, shaking his head, “my future is with her now. I’ve been angry at myself all this time, not you, and you needed to know that. That’s all. I ain’t ever gonna be no one else’s but hers.”  

“She won’t love you like I do,” she tried, Luca shaking his head again.  

“She won’t, no. She loves me differently, holds me fuckin’ accountable, makes me wanna be better. I shouldda been better to you, though. Just know that I know, but we ain’t tryin’ again. It’s not what I want.” He walked away then, knowing she likely wouldn’t take his rejection lying down. It wasn’t the woman she was. The man he’d become, though, was somebody he intended on remaining, going back into the house, finding Emily still within the bedroom, and taking her in his arms to plant a passionate kiss upon her mouth.  

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathless from it, her cheeks flushing.  

He rested his forehead to hers, hands stroking her neck. “For being you, cara mia. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man, but I will be to you. Because of you.” His mouth met hers again, fingers beginning to tease the buttons of her dress undone, their need and longing for one another flickering into greater heat, his big hands grasping her narrow waist and carrying her to the bed.  

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he began, lips planted kisses on her neck, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His lips rained hot over her breasts, pulling her brassiere from her after flicking the clasps undone, “and I need you to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”  

“Don’t tell me,” she gasped, hands all over him, desire charging over her skin. “Show me.” 

Oh, how he showed her.