Rebecca Downhill (Becca) has known nothing in her life but a strict father who is involved in businesses with the Italian mafia in NY, an absent mother who has taught her to be obedient and fulfill her duties towards the family, and a twelve years o...
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I'm lying on one of the sunbeds next to the pool waiting for Becks, having some lemonade prepared for her.
It's such a warm, salty breeze outside, and I know for sure she'll love it.
I'm feeling the breeze myself, with my eyes closed and I'm smiling at the memories of Becks' face while being bawled deep into her cores.
Damn, she'll be the end of me!
I smile wider when I feel her arms curling around my neck, coming from my back and a kiss lands on my neck.
"What are you smiling about?" she's asking.
"I'm wondering why on earth am I such an idiot and why I don't let you rest just as Giovanna has told you," I answer, pulling her from behind me and placing her on my lap.
"And how do you know what Giovanna has said?" rhetorically she asks, although she knows the damn answer very well.
"Well, maybe because Giovanna has been almost like a sister to me, for years now. And maybe because I want to know anything is happening to you... or to you..."
"Possessive much?" she chuckles, having fun of me.
"Isn't that what you like?" I say and immediately I realize it has been a really bad move. The smile freezes on her lips, and I know I've touched a rather sensitive subject there. Only Lucas can be that way with her.
Nothing can touch fucking Lucas, not even words.
"What did you want to tell me?" she asks, becoming cold and distant, and standing up she lays on the sunbed next to mine.
I pause.
I know I should have never mentioned that but hell, I love her! I need to know her feelings towards Lucas. Does she still love him? Does she still shiver when remembering him?
So far nothing has changed, and I don't know if it's ever going to change.
"I have decided on a party here, a reception. At the mansion. I'm going to make official my coming back and becoming the Don at my father's request. Or else none of us is safe and things like those of yesterday will keep coming," I say in a neutral voice.
"Oh," is her reply, and she keeps quiet for a few long minutes before we go back to the same subject that I literally loath.
"Have my divorce papers arrived yet? Did you speak with the lawyers?" she asks.
I feel like a claw is curled around my neck, tightening with every second that I delay the reply.
"No, no answer yet," I say, frowning and making it short.
Beck nods a few times, playing with her fingers, hands dropped carelessly on her nap, saying nothing else.
No return of signed divorce papers means Lucas is dead, that's simply perfect for me.
