Chapter 3
Lucia woke up with a gasp, her eyes opening wide as her heart pounded hard. Her sheets were tangled around her legs like ropes, and strands of damp hair stuck to the sweat on her flushed skin.
Dream. It had just been another intense dream about Marco Corleone - those piercing grey eyes staring at her intensely as his powerful body towered over hers, his lips barely apart from hers and damn she had to wake up
She squeezed her thighs together with a soft whimper, the ache between her legs still burning and insistent. God, she was hopeless, completely consumed by this dark obsession. Throwing off her covers, Lucia walked to the bathroom and splashed some cool water on her face, trying unsuccessfully to rinse away the lingering feelings of longing flowing through her veins.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something fiery red on her doorstep through the frosted window. Her chest tightened as she quickly dried off and threw on a robe before cautiously going downstairs.
Sure enough, sitting outside her front door was a large bouquet of lush red roses bundled with a jet black ribbon. Lucia's breath hitched as her trembling fingers reached for the small envelope tucked among the plush petals.
This had to be from Marco, didn't it? Her pulse raced at the thought of him leaving her a secret token of his affection. Or was it another twisted game, one last cruel taunt before he put her in her place again? Only one way to find out.
With shaking hands, Lucia tore open the envelope to reveal a small card inscribed in an elegantly masculine handwriting:
"To the crimson-haired beauty,
A desert rose in full bloom despite the hostile sands that surround her.
How could I not be captivated by such exquisite, defiant fragrance?
I remain intrigued and await our next encounter.
-A"
Lucia blinked dumbly at the card, re-reading the words until they burned into her brain. Not Marco...but A? A as in...Alessandro? Her heart plummeted sickeningly as realization hit.
It was Marco's older brother who had left this for her, not Marco himself. Heaviness replaced the giddy fluttering in her belly as dread took root. Alessandro must have spotted her last night when she tried to sneak onto the Corleone grounds to get close to Marco.
She sank down onto the plush sofa, a trembling hand pressed to her mouth as tears of humiliation pricked her eyes. Of course it wasn't Marco - he had made his burning disinterest in her very clear. Worse, she had clearly caught Alessandro's attention while lurking around like a criminal at night.
Oh God, if word got back to her father that she had trespassed on Corleone territory pursuing Moretti's sworn enemy, Lucia shuddered, bile burning her throat at the mere thought. Her punishment would be severe for certain. And if Alessandro realized who she truly was.
Her head swam with a thousand terrifying scenarios as Lucia paced her living room in agitated circles. Her father would viciously punish her for this reckless stupidity, then disown her for daring to fix her sights on the prime target of their family's bitter blood feud. And the Corleones themselves? They might see her as a threat - a spy sent to infiltrate their ranks. Her pulse thundered as her anxiety mounted with every passing second.
She couldn't go to Marco about this, not when he loathed her very existence. If Lucia tried to explain the misunderstanding, he would probably just laugh that mocking laugh of his before ordering his men to kill her.
No, the only way to untangle this mess was to confront Alessandro directly, Lucia realized with a sinking feeling. She would rip the situation up by the roots before it could fester into something more dangerous for her family. Maybe she could even glean some information about Marco in the process.
"Lucia?" Her father's gruff voice made her nearly jump out of her skin. She spun around to find Dorven hovering in the entryway, frown lines creasing his hardened features.
"You look like something's bothering you, baby girl. Is everything alright? You know you can always tell me what is wrong with you?" he asked.
She was silent for a brief moment, Lucia debated confessing her dalliance with the Corleones to her father. But the thought of the explosive consequences made her swallow her confession. Lying to Don Dorven Moretti was foolish, but she had run out of wise choices this morning.
"Y-yeah, everything's fine, Daddy, there is nothing wrong with me" she lied smoothly, subtly hiding the offending bouquet from view. "Just a case of teenage overreaction as usual."
She forced a smile, hoping the tremor in her voice wasn't too noticeable. Thankfully, her father seemed to accept her excuse with a grunt and a squeeze of her shoulder.
"That's my girl. Just keep your wits about you, this life ain't no place for weakness. And you can always count on me if anything goes wrong with you."
Lucia nodded obediently, waiting until Dorven had brushed past her before releasing the breath she'd been holding. That had been too close, way too close. But she had bought herself a temporary stay of execution, at least. Now all she had to do was steel her nerves and pay an uninvited visit to the Corleone heir and set him straight before this got any uglier.
"This is Easy, right?" with a sigh, Lucia retrieved the bouquet and buried her nose in the lush crimson petals, inhaling their rich, heady fragrance. As much as she tried to convince herself she hated Alessandro's unsubtle romantic gesture, her treacherous body reacted differently. Her thighs clenched instinctively and dizzying images of Marco's face flashed behind her eyelids.
She had to get a grip on this spiral of depravity before she self-destructed, Lucia reminded herself sternly. After all, it was Marco she craved with every fiber of her being, not his villainous older brother.