Chapter 3 - THE FIRST TIME SHE SAW HIS FACE
The defibrillator procedure was performed the next morning.
Luca hated every second of being unable to control what happened around him.
Dr. Bennett noticed.
“That expression is why your blood pressure is high.”
“My expression?”
“The one that suggests you’re planning to take over the operating room.”
“I could improve efficiency.”
“You’re sedated.”
“So?”
She shook her head.
“Men like you are exhausting.”
“Men like me?”
“Men who think control is a vital organ.”
That sentence stayed with him.
By afternoon, the device was in place.
By evening, Luca was furious because Bennett refused to discharge him.
By the following morning, she compromised.
Two hours.
A secure location.
Medical support nearby.
No physical exertion.
No arguments.
Marco laughed when she listed the final condition.
“Then he can’t see Rachel.”
Luca glared.
Marco looked delighted.
They selected a private brownstone owned through a legitimate Bellini real-estate holding company.
No visible guards.
Security stayed outside.
Rachel arrived first.
Emma slept against her shoulder.
Luca stood when they entered.
Then froze.
Pictures had lied.
Not intentionally.
They had simply failed.
They never captured how small Emma actually was.
How her curls flattened against Rachel’s coat.
How one little sneaker had come untied.
How tightly she held Mr. Buttons beneath one arm.
Rachel looked at Luca’s bandaged shoulder.
Then at the slight outline beneath his shirt where the new device sat.
“You look terrible.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“I’ve said worse.”
“Yes.”
Neither smiled.
Then Emma stirred.
Her eyes opened.
Dark.
Like his.
She saw Luca.
And stared.
Luca had faced armed men without moving.
Now he had no idea what to do with his hands.
Emma buried her face against Rachel.
Luca felt his chest tighten.
He stayed where he was.
Rachel whispered:
“It’s okay.”
Emma peeked again.
“That him?”
Rachel nodded.
“Yes.”
Emma studied Luca for a long time.
Then:
“You have eyebrows.”
Marco, stationed discreetly in the next room, made a strangled sound.
Luca ignored him.
“Yes.”
Emma pointed.
“Hair too.”
“Yes.”
She seemed genuinely relieved.
Apparently her artistic uncertainty had extended beyond his face.
Then she asked:
“Are you my daddy?”
Luca crouched carefully.
Dr. Bennett would have complained about the movement.
He didn’t care.
“Yes.”
Emma looked at Rachel.
Rachel nodded.
Then back to Luca.
“Why?”
Luca blinked.
Rachel almost smiled.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“Why he my daddy?”
An easier question.
“Because you came from both of us.”
Emma accepted that.
She walked closer.
Luca stayed still.
Two feet.
One.
Then she touched his cheek.
His entire world narrowed to five tiny fingers.
“You’re scratchy.”
“I need to shave.”
“Mommy says men are scratchy.”
Rachel looked away.
Emma traced his nose.
His eyebrow.
Then his mouth.
“You can smile.”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
Luca obeyed.
Emma frowned.
“Bigger.”
He smiled wider.
She nodded.
Then said:
“Now I can draw you.”
Luca had to look away.
Rachel saw.
Her expression softened for half a second.
Then hardened again.
Emma noticed the bandage.
“You got boo-boo?”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“A little.”
“Need Band-Aid?”
“I have one.”
She looked offended by the size of his medical dressing.
“That’s not Band-Aid.”
“No?”
“That’s blanket.”
Luca laughed.
This time Emma laughed with him.
Five minutes later, she was sitting on the rug with crayons Marco had bought.
Luca watched her draw.
Rachel stood beside the window.
“We need rules.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes shifted toward him.
The immediate agreement surprised her.
“You don’t show up whenever you want.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t put men outside her preschool without telling me.”
Luca hesitated.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
He corrected himself.
“Agreed.”
“You don’t make decisions for Emma because you have more money or more security.”
“That one is harder.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know.”
She folded her arms.
“And your world does not become hers.”
Luca looked at Emma.
“What if my world already found her?”
“Then you leave it.”
Silence.
Rachel held his gaze.
“That was my condition three years ago.”
“I remember.”
“You chose.”
“I did.”
“And I will not let your diagnosis turn regret into permission.”
Luca absorbed that.
“I’m not asking you to take me back.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking for a chance to be her father.”
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“That depends on what being her father means to you.”
Before he could answer, Marco entered.
His face erased the fragile warmth in the room.
“What happened?”
“We got an identification on the man from the apartment.”
“Who?”
“Name is Anton Belov.”
Luca knew it.
Low-level Russian crew.
Sokolov-associated.
Rachel went pale.
“So it is Sokolov.”
Marco shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
Anton standing outside a restaurant two nights before Mulberry Street.
Beside him was a man whose face was turned partly away.
But his hand was visible.
And on his finger was a heavy gold ring.
Bellini family crest.
Luca stared.
Rachel whispered:
“Who wears that?”
Luca knew three men.
Himself.
His uncle Salvatore Bellini.
And Salvatore’s son—
Matteo.
Luca looked toward Emma.
She had started drawing him.
This time she gave him eyes.
A mouth.
A nose.
Then, beside Luca, she drew another man.
Luca’s breath caught.
“Emma.”
She looked up.
“Who is that?”
She pointed at the second man.
“Car man.”
Rachel went still.
“What car man?”
“The one who watches school.”
Luca crouched beside the drawing.
Emma had given the second man one exaggerated feature.
May you like
A large yellow circle on his hand.
A ring.
