ALINA
I stared at him, my fork frozen halfway to my mouth.
Luca didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on his plate, shoulders tense, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle ticking.
"My father shot it to death."
His voice was flat, almost indifferent, but something about the way he held his knife so tight told a different story.
I set my fork down. "Luca…"
"It was a long time ago," he said, cutting into his steak like we were discussing the weather. "Eat your food."
I hesitated, watching him.
I wasn't sure why, but his sudden iciness made my chest feel tight.
I picked up my glass of water and sipped, choosing my next words carefully. "What was his name?"
Luca's glared at me like I was stopping him from enjoying his food.
For a second, I thought h
