“I took the day off to finish gardening,” he told her, setting the dishes in the sink.
She froze, having forgotten about that. No wonder he is here.
“Do you still want to join me?” He wasn’t commanding her; he was simply asking.
Clutching the laptop, she tried her best to lie. “I-I have a lot of schoolwork I n-need to do.”
“Okay, darlin’. I just thought you might enjoy some fresh air. But if being in the house every day doesn’t bother you, then I understand.”
“I j-just have a lot of work to do,” she tried to lie again, though she knew it was bullshit. Not on the account of what had happened last night, but because he specifically brought Sal in to help her with her schoolwork so she could. Dang it … She was starting to feel bad!
He smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I said I understand, darlin’. Go and get your schoolwork done. It’s more important.”
Is he being sarcastic, or just really freaking nice?
Biting her lip again, she tried to decide. What is he trying to do to me?
She shook her head, hoping it would shake the thoughts away while she headed for the stairs, not wanting to give in to feeling bad about not wanting to spend the day gardening with a freaking murderer.
“Okay, bye.”
Laughing at her abrupt departure, he raised his voice so she could hear him as she ran. “All right, I hope you get lots of work done, darlin’.”
Running into her room, she shut the door behind her before setting her laptop on the small desk in her room. Ugh! I hope you get lots of work done, darlin’. Like, what does that even mean?
Whatever Lucca was trying to do to her, she wasn’t buying it. He was a lunatic, and that was it.
Taking a seat, she opened the laptop to see what schoolwork she had. Nothing she had to do was immediate, so she sat there, twiddling her thumbs, trying not to think about him. Finally, she decided to try to work out some math problems for the test that was coming up to see if she still understood what Sal had taught her.
She hadn’t even been working on the problems for ten minutes when a chat box opened up.
How’s the calculus coming along?
Rolling her eyes, she thought that was awfully convenient. Did Lucca ask you to check on me to see if I was doing schoolwork? Thinking better of it, she then asked, Is this Lucca?
What? No? Did something happen? Ha-ha.
Before she answered, she got up to look out the window. Lucca was already in the garden, dirty and hard at work. Well … Dang. That just killed her theory.
Going back to the computer, she reread his reply, not liking the laugh he added to the message, knowing he was most likely smiling on the other end of the computer.
Typing into the keyboard, she wanted him to know she no longer bought the innocent way he had explained the mafia. VP, huh?
Well, I tried to warn you a little, but you weren’t hearing it.
That isn’t true. That’s not true!
I gave you the version you wanted to hear, didn’t I?
Staring at the keyboard, she immediately typed in the letter “N,” but she couldn’t finish the word, knowing deep down he was right.
We only hear what we want to hear, and we only see what we want to see, Chloe.
Her eyes wandered to the window, her thoughts on Lucca, before she snapped her eyes back to the computer and typed, You still lied to me, along with everyone else.
Did Lucca lie to you?
She bit her lip, unable to lie. No. If anything, he was too honest.
Then what’s the problem?
Um, the fact that he is crazy. The underboss. Keeping me hostage. That was just a short list, but she wasn’t going to tell his best friend that. Nothing.
Are you sure about that? Ha-ha.
Yes!
Okay then, if you’re sure.
Ugh, she must not understand guys in general, because she didn’t know if that was sarcasm or not.
Tapping her fingers, she thought there was something she had been wondering since finding out about the mafia. Sal’s genius intrigued her, and she wanted to know what he really did for them since she didn’t think he only handled security.
What do you really do? Like, really do?
Patiently waiting for a response, she didn’t get one until minutes later, and it wasn’t what she had expected, yet should have.
I’m his right hand.
She knew exactly who he was referring to.
So, you help him get into trouble, then?
Or I help him get out of it.
There was one last question she wanted to know the answer to. She just didn’t know how to ask it. After last night, the way Lucca had talked about Amo, like he was no different than him, and that Nero and Vincent weren’t, either, she had to ask, Is it possible to still be good, but also be in the mafia?