Ruined in Vows (Marchetti Family #3)

8. Luca

Chapter 8

Luca

“ T his is the second dinner you have made me in as many days. What did I do to deserve it?” I ask Caterina, as I step into the kitchen, amusement lacing my tone. I know full well I haven’t done anything to deserve her attention like this, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Once again, she is dressed to the nines in a tight red knee length dress that molds to every one of her curves, her face full of make-up.

After our disastrous meal a couple nights ago, where Caterina did everything in her power to seduce me, I rejected her. Which was followed up by her desperately screaming and crying at me to just fuck her. I thought by now, she would have all but given up. But alas, it seems I underestimated her obsession to get my cock inside her.

The harder she tries to get me into bed, the more suspicious I am about her motives. I have asked her, over and over, to give me time, but the more I push her away the deeper she tries to sink her claws into me. It's frustrating, on both our parts. I get she has needs, that she is used to another version of me, but I'm just not ready. My dick has no interest, that much was obvious when she fingered her pussy in front of me and it didn't even twitch. I don't understand it. Caterina is an attractive woman... I'm just not interested. Which brings me back to my earlier thoughts of being broken. Maybe the accident broke the part of me that desired her. I don't know. Whatever it is, her efforts are not getting her anywhere.

She straightens, flashing me a bright white smile. “It's an apology of sorts. For my behavior the other night. I’m coming on too strong, I realize that now. You want to take your time and after everything you have been through, I should respect that. Let's start over?” she asks hopefully, but I can't help but think it's not genuine and that she is changing up her tactics.

I study her face, trying to find any recognition but come up empty. Just like every other time I have looked at her since the moment I woke up, she is a stranger. But I don't tell her that. Instead, I humor her. “Sure.”

Caterina exhales in relief, crossing the kitchen and wrapping her arms around my torso. She glances up at me, her expression soft but there's a hint of something lurking underneath the surface, that I can't quite put my finger on.

“Forgive me?” she murmurs, blinking her lashes coyly.

“Of course.” I nod, though it's a lie.

Truth is, you have to at least give a fuck about the person asking for forgiveness, and I am ninety nine percent sure that it's not the case when it comes to my wife. Maybe in another lifetime I had feelings for this woman, but right now there is no emotion, physical or otherwise. Maybe it’s me with the problem. But surely, if I am to accept what I have been told and Caterina is the love of my life since we were children, then my heart and soul would know her on a deeper level?

I shake the thought away, pulling out of my wife's arms and smiling down at her. “I'm going to get washed up for dinner.”

Her face falls but she recovers quickly, clearing her throat. “Don't be long. It will be around thirty minutes before it’s ready.”

I nod curtly before turning on my heel and heading up to our bedroom. Pushing the door open, I step inside and just like every other evening when I come to this room, I glance around, hoping to jog a memory or recognition of any kind. Again. It doesn't happen.

Blowing out a breath of annoyance, I move to the bathroom, making quick work of stripping out of my suit and hopping in the shower. Lathering myself up with soap, frustration bubbles beneath my skin and I want to bang my head against the shower wall, but refrain from doing so, a humorous laugh bubbling up inside me. Way to give yourself more head trauma, Luca.

My recollection about my accident is blank and I don’t remember it at all. From Vincenzo's version of events, I was jumped in the parking lot of our hotel by enemies of ours and beaten to within an inch of my life. The blows I received to my head caused life threatening swelling to my brain, to the point I spent over a month in a coma. Dr. Abernathy, the head trauma surgeon and specialist that treated me, is a good friend of the private doctor on Vincenzo’s payroll. Not long after I woke up, he explained that I have post traumatic amnesia which could last months or, in the worst-case scenario, I might never get my memory back. It's rare and in most cases, it only lasts days or weeks, but due to the damage my brain received during the beating, and the non-progress I have made with my memories, he believes it could be longer lasting but has every hope they will eventually come back. I just need to be patient.

Shutting off the shower, I step out, grabbing a towel and drying myself. My movements are slow, fatigue settling heavy in my bones with all the confusion constantly plaguing me, and all I want to do is lock myself away. But I know full well Caterina won’t be happy if I do that.

So instead, I head to our closet, pull on some sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, then head downstairs for another romantic dinner with my wife.

"Caterina called me. Said you had a nice dinner together last night.” I pause at the sound of Vincenzo’s voice.

Glancing up from the laptop on my desk, I lean back in the plush leather chair and stare at him, not bothering to hide the annoyance I feel. He smirks, knowing full well his statement has hit its intended mark. “Why the fuck, is your sister calling you to tell you that?” I reply cooly.

He shrugs. “Cat thinks things are finally getting back on track in your marriage. She is allowed to be happy about that, Luc.”

Sighing, I release some of the hostility in my body, speaking to him as I assume I did before my accident. With honesty. “I know Caterina is your sister Vincenzo, and I mean no disrespect. But what if my memories come back and our marriage isn’t what you believe it to be? What if we were having problems before and this is why I am feeling so indifferent toward her?”

Vincenzo freezes, something flickering in his eyes. Panic? Worry? Pain? But before I can pin the emotion it disappears. He clears his throat, the blank mask he wears so well falling back into place as he cocks his head. “Out of all the things you have to worry about Luc, that is not it. I can tell you that you are very much in love with my sister.”

“Then why do we have no pictures together?” I ask a question that's been bugging me. “Yes, we have some from our wedding day, but apart from that, there is nothing. Surely a happy couple would have... something?”

Vincenzo steps into my office, his eyes narrowed. He looks... angry? What the hell. “Because you ,” he hisses, “hate that shit. Cat would have pictures of you and her plastered on every wall if she could. Plus, in our line of work, it’s safer for all of us not to have our picture everywhere. We need to make it harder for our enemies to recognize us at any given time.”

My shoulders sag and I nod. Makes sense. Both parts. I can't imagine I'm the sort of man that's comfortable in front of a camera or would be plastering images all over social media. And plus, in our line of work we make a lot of enemies, so what Vincenzo said is the most logical explanation. Still, it doesn't stop the niggling of a question in my head.

What if it's all a lie?