Chapter 2 - The De Luca
1729 Words
Sofia stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
The rain had soaked through the shoulders of her coat, but she barely noticed. Her attention remained fixed on the twelve-year-old girl staring back at her from another lifetime.
She knew that face.
Of course she did.
It was hers.
But the boy standing beside her was a stranger.
At least, he should have been.
She lifted her eyes to Alessandro.
“You're telling me we knew each other?”
“I’m telling you that we met.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
His answer was too calm.
Sofia hated that.
She looked down at the photograph again. There was something about the garden that bothered her. The stone fountain in the background. The old olive tree. The pale summer dress she was wearing.
She had no memory of it.
Not even a fragment.
“How old was I?”
“Twelve.”
“And you?”
“Sixteen.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything.”
Something about the way he said it sent a strange shiver down her spine.
“Why don't I?”
Alessandro's expression hardened.
“Because remembering wasn't safe.”
Sofia stared at him.
“That doesn't make any sense.”
“It will.”
“When?”
“When you're ready to hear the truth.”
She gave a humourless laugh.
“You've been watching me, three men just tried to kill me, you somehow have a photograph of me from fifteen years ago, and you're telling me my dead father left behind some kind of debt.”
“I said eleven years ago.”
Sofia frowned.
“What?”
“The promise was eleven years ago. The photograph is older.”
She looked at the picture again.
The distinction somehow made everything worse.
“Who took it?”
“Your father.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Alessandro reached for the photograph.
Sofia instinctively pulled it toward herself.
He stopped.
His eyes dropped to her hand.
Then returned to her face.
“Keep it.”
She hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because you're going to need it.”
“For what?”
“To remember.”
A car horn sounded from across the street.
Alessandro glanced toward it.
“We're leaving.”
Sofia shook her head.
“No.”
He looked back at her.
“I told you, I'm not getting into your car.”
“And I told you they're going to find your apartment.”
“You can't know that.”
“I know exactly how these people work.”
“Who are they?”
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“My house.”
Sofia laughed again.
“You have got to be joking.”
“No.”
“I'm not going to the home of a stranger who admits he's been following me.”
“I'm not a stranger.”
“You're a stranger to me.”
Something flickered behind his eyes.
Pain?
No.
It disappeared too quickly.
“You'll come to know me.”
The certainty in his voice irritated her.
“That's very arrogant.”
“It's not arrogance.”
“Then what is it?”
“Experience.”
He turned toward the car.
Sofia remained where she was.
Alessandro stopped without looking back.
“You have ten seconds.”
“For what?”
“To decide whether you'd rather come with me or wait here for the next group.”
Sofia's stomach tightened.
“You're threatening me.”
“No.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I'm giving you a choice.”
She looked down the empty street.
The rain.
The abandoned sidewalks.
The black sedan.
Then she looked at the photograph in her hand.
Something had happened to her family.
Something she'd never been told.
And somehow, Alessandro De Luca was standing at the centre of it.
She hated that she had no choice but to trust him.
But she hated the alternative more.
She walked toward the car.
“Congratulations,” she muttered. “You've officially ruined my night.”
Alessandro opened the rear door.
“I wasn't aware it had been going well.”
She climbed inside.
He followed.
The door shut.
The city disappeared behind darkened glass.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Sofia sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap while Alessandro stared through the window.
She studied him from the corner of her eye.
He looked completely composed.
Not a trace of the man who had threatened the attackers.
Not a trace of the boy in the photograph.
Just a man in an expensive black suit who looked as though violence belonged to him as naturally as breathing.
“Are you going to tell me where we're going?”
“My home.”
“Where is that?”
“Outside the city.”
“That's vague.”
“It's intentional.”
She sighed.
“Do you always answer questions like this?”
“Yes.”
“How do people stand you?”
“They don't.”
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
Then Sofia noticed the small scar near his jaw.
“Who did that?”
His hand moved unconsciously toward it.
“Someone who made a mistake.”
“What happened to him?”
Alessandro looked at her.
“He learned from it.”
She decided not to ask.
The car continued through the city until the buildings became fewer and the roads darker.
Sofia watched the streetlights disappear behind them.
Her uneasiness grew.
“You really don't understand how insane this is, do you?”
“I understand.”
“You're taking a woman you barely know to a house outside the city because three men tried to kill her.”
“I know exactly how insane it sounds.”
“And yet you're doing it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Alessandro was silent for a moment.
“Because I promised your father.”
Sofia looked away.
She wasn't sure why those words bothered her so much.
Perhaps because she had spent eleven years believing her father had died without leaving anything behind.
Now she was discovering that he'd left behind secrets.
And apparently one of them was a man who had been carrying a promise since he was sixteen.
The gates appeared ahead.
They were enormous.
Black iron stretched between stone pillars, each topped with a security camera.
Sofia stared.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“This isn't a house.”
“No.”
The gates opened.
The car continued up a long private driveway surrounded by towering trees.
When the estate finally appeared, Sofia forgot what she was about to say.
The De Luca house was beautiful.
And intimidating.
Dark stone walls rose beneath the night sky, illuminated by warm lights. Tall windows reflected the rain. The architecture was elegant, almost European, but there was something severe about it.
Nothing here felt welcoming.
It felt guarded.
Protected.
Or imprisoned.
The car stopped.
Alessandro stepped out first.
Sofia followed.
A man in a dark suit opened the front door before they reached it.
“Mr. De Luca.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Luca.”
The man glanced at Sofia.
His expression changed slightly.
“So this is—”
“Not here,” Alessandro interrupted.
Luca immediately nodded.
Sofia noticed.
Everyone listened to him.
Inside, the house was even more impressive.
Marble floors.
Dark wood.
A massive staircase.
Paintings that looked older than Sofia's entire family history.
She stopped near the entrance.
“This is ridiculous.”
Alessandro looked back.
“What?”
“You have a house that looks like it belongs to a king.”
“I don't like kings.”
“Clearly.”
He almost smiled again.
Then an older woman appeared at the end of the corridor.
She stopped when she saw Sofia.
The colour drained from her face.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered,
“It's her.”
Sofia's brow furrowed.
“I'm sorry?”
The woman looked at Alessandro.
“You brought her here.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes returned to Sofia.
There was something unsettling in her expression.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“You look just like your mother.”
Sofia's breath caught.
“You knew my mother?”
The woman didn't answer.
Instead, she looked at Alessandro.
“You promised you would never bring her into this house.”
Alessandro's face hardened.
“I promised to protect her.”
“And now you've brought her straight into the heart of it.”
Silence.
Sofia looked between them.
“What is this?”
Neither answered.
Her frustration snapped.
“No. I'm done with this.”
She turned toward the front door.
Alessandro caught her wrist.
Not roughly.
But firmly.
Sofia looked down at his hand.
Then up at him.
“Let go.”
He did.
Immediately.
She rubbed her wrist.
“If you want me to stay,” she said, “you start telling me the truth.”
Alessandro watched her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
He walked toward the study.
Sofia followed.
He opened the door.
Inside, a fire burned quietly in the stone fireplace.
Alessandro walked to the desk and removed a file from a locked drawer.
He placed it in front of her.
Sofia stared at it.
Her name was written across the front.
SOFIA MORETTI.
Her heart began to pound.
She looked at Alessandro.
“What is this?”
“The beginning of everything your father never told you.”
She opened the file.
The first photograph made her blood run cold.
It was her father.
Standing beside Alessandro's father.
And between them was a document.
At the bottom of the page was a signature.
Her father's.
Beneath it were three words.
A DEBT MUST BE PAID.
Sofia looked up.
“What did my father owe your family?”
Alessandro's eyes held hers.
“His life.”
The fire cracked behind them.
And for the first time that night, Sofia wondered whether the men who had tried to kill her were actually the people she should have been afraid of.
Because perhaps the real danger had been waiting for her here all along.
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