Chapter 13 - The Favor Luca Refused
Three nights later, Luca’s brother Marco arrived after dinner.
I knew Marco mostly by reputation and appetite.
He was forty-two, louder than Luca, and treated the kitchen as though it belonged to whichever person was feeding him.
Ramon adored him.
Mrs. Carter did not.
Marco came through the service door, stole a meatball from a tray, and received a slap on the wrist from Ramon with a wooden spoon.
“Violence in the workplace,” Marco said.
“Next time use a fork,” Ramon replied.
Marco saw me near the sink.
His expression shifted when he noticed the fading bruise.
“You’re Olivia.”
Apparently I was famous now.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
He looked toward the dining room.
“Where’s my brother?”
“Study.”
Marco took another meatball.
Ramon raised the spoon.
Marco left.
Later, carrying a tray of coffee past the study, I heard voices through the partly open door.
I did not stop.
That distinction mattered.
But Luca’s voice carried.
“No.”
Marco answered, “You haven’t even heard the whole idea.”
“I heard enough.”
I continued down the hall.
Mrs. Carter met me near the dining room.
“What are they arguing about?” I asked.
She gave me a look.
“I thought your new policy was not needing to know everything.”
“It is. I’m failing.”
“Good self-awareness.”
An hour later, Luca came into the kitchen himself.
Marco followed.
Both looked irritated.
Marco pointed at me.
“Tell him he’s being unreasonable.”
I stared at him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Perfect. Neither does he.”
Luca looked at his brother. “Leave her out of it.”
Marco leaned against the counter.
“Fine. I’ll ask the room.”
Ramon immediately turned off the blender.
Marco continued. “If a family publicly embarrasses ours—”
“No one publicly embarrassed us,” Luca said.
“Vanessa lied to you, hired someone to follow you, put hands on an employee, then tried to pay her off.”
I lifted one finger.
“I would prefer not to be a supporting argument.”
Marco looked at me.
“Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Luca rubbed his forehead.
Marco continued more carefully. “The Bellinis are telling people the engagement ended over private differences.”
“That is also what I’m telling people.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand the problem.”
“The problem is people assume you got cold feet.”
Luca stared at him.
“So?”
Marco looked genuinely offended by the word.
“So?”
“Yes.”
“You are Luca Moretti.”
“I remain aware.”
“People cannot think you were rejected or frightened or—”
“Why?”
Marco stopped.
The kitchen went very quiet.
Not fearful.
Interested.
Luca folded his arms.
“Why does anyone need a story where Vanessa is worse so I look stronger?”
Marco glanced around, perhaps realizing he had chosen a terrible room for this conversation.
“That’s not what I said.”
“It is exactly what you said with more words.”
Marco looked at me, then at Ramon, then back to Luca.
“This family has enemies.”
Luca’s expression changed.
There it was.
The other world.
The one staff understood existed but rarely saw directly.
Marco lowered his voice.
“Perception matters.”
“It does.”
“So let people know she lied.”
“No.”
“Why are you protecting her?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Luca looked toward me for half a second.
Not asking permission.
Remembering.
“I’m refusing to solve my embarrassment by giving the city a story about someone else.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“She gave you a story.”
“And I hated it.”
“That’s different.”
“No.”
Marco laughed without humor.
“You spend one week reading self-help books?”
“No.”
“Therapy?”
“No.”
Mrs. Carter spoke from the doorway.
“Shame.”
Marco looked at her.
“Margaret, whose side are you on?”
“Dinner’s.”
Ramon smiled into a pot.
Luca exhaled.
“Marco, if anyone asks, the engagement ended. The reasons are private. That is the end.”
“And if Bellini starts talking?”
“Then he talks.”
“You’re willing to look weak?”
Luca considered the question.
“Yes.”
That silenced Marco in a way threats never could.
He studied his brother.
Then he picked up another meatball.
Ramon hit him with the spoon.
“Jesus.”
“Fork.”
The tension broke.
Marco ate the meatball anyway.
Before he left, he found Luca alone near the foyer.
I was setting fresh flowers on the console table, close enough to hear but not close enough to be included.
Marco said, “You loved her?”
Luca looked at the front doors.
“Yes.”
“Still do?”
“Yes.”
Marco nodded.
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Very.”
“Want me to hate her for you?”
Luca almost smiled.
“No.”
“I’m good at it.”
“I know.”
Marco put a hand on his shoulder.
Then he hesitated.
‘For what it’s worth,’ he said, ‘I probably would’ve done exactly what you’re refusing to do.’
‘I know.’
‘That wasn’t a compliment.’
‘I know that too.’
Marco glanced toward the front doors. ‘Dad taught us that if someone makes you look weak, you correct the picture before anyone else frames it.’
Luca’s face softened slightly. ‘Dad also spent twenty years correcting pictures nobody else was looking at.’
Marco laughed. ‘You’re getting philosophical. I preferred you mean.’
‘I was never mean.’
Marco stared at him.
Luca sighed. ‘Fine.’
‘There he is.’
This time, when Marco left, Luca was smiling.
Then he left.
Luca stood there for a moment.
Later I learned Marco had canceled two phone calls he had planned to make on Luca’s behalf. No pressure on the Bellinis. No whispers to club owners. No quiet social punishment disguised as coincidence. For men who were used to influence traveling faster than explanations, doing nothing had required an actual decision.
That detail stayed with me. Restraint was easy to admire from people who had no power. It meant something different from people who did.
When he turned, he saw me with the flowers.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know Marco steals food.”
“That was already public.”
I adjusted one white rose.
“You did the right thing.”
He leaned against the table.
“Careful. That almost sounded like approval.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He smiled.
Then his eyes dropped to the flowers.
“Vanessa chose those.”
I looked at them.
White roses.
The same variety planned for the wedding.
“Do you want me to remove them?”
Luca thought about it.
“No.”
That answer told me more than throwing them away would have.
May you like
He was learning not every object needed to pick a side.
