CHAPTER 88: TO BE A GENTLEMAN

Frida finally gained entry to Asher’s property and stepped out of her car. She removed her dark designer shades as she looked up at the mansion. Her heels clicked sharply on the stone path as she walked ahead.

Inside the opulent living room, she spotted Asher immediately. He was sprawled on a vast, velvet couch. Her confident stride faltered slightly as she approached, the reality of their broken relationship crashing down on her.

"Did I never mean anything to you, Asher?" she screamed. "You ended everything with a phone call! How could you be so cruel, so cowardly?"

Asher gazed at her with a cold fury. "I explicitly told you not to push me toward Sara. But you manipulated me, insisting I do it for your sake. And when I did, you didn’t stop there," he snapped. "And what the hell were you doing? Hounding my secretary and staff every second hour? Do you have no life, no purpose other than pestering me?"

"I love you, Asher! That’s why I’ve been ’bothering’ everyone around you!" Frida retorted, her voice cracking with desperation. "You’ve completely shut me out, acting as if nothing ever existed between us."

She closed the distance between them, her gaze imploring. "You don’t have to fear Luca or Sara. She’s completely cut all ties with my family, she has nothing to do with us anymore. We can be together! Come to my house tonight and ask my father for my hand, or he’ll force me to marry a man of his choice!"

She stopped directly in front of him, reaching out to gently cup his chiselled cheeks with her hands.

In an instant, he violently yanked her hands away, shoving her back a step. "Don’t you dare touch me, Frida. It is over. I was an absolute fool to let myself fall for you." His eyes were blazing.

"I’ve been doing your bidding, blindly, not realizing the enormous cost I’d have to pay. Luca is after my life because of you! I don’t care who your father marries you off to. Now, get out of my life! This is the last time I’m warning you. Understand this: I am no longer in love with you!"

🤯 Disbelief and a Final Warning

Frida stared at him, her beautiful features crumpled in absolute disbelief. "But you said... you told me you would do anything for me, Asher." Her voice was a fragile whisper, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.

Asher let out a short, wry chuckle, devoid of humor. "Call me a fool for believing that. Didn’t you see the condition I’ve been reduced to? You’ll be in the same misery soon enough." His voice dropped, laced with a harsh prediction. "You did a terrible thing to your sister. Mark my words. And if you have any hope of saving yourself, you should beg her forgiveness—do it soon," he advised, the caution surprisingly genuine.

Frida’s jaw instantly tightened, her grief momentarily eclipsed by a surge of anger. "Are you actually siding with Sara in front of me?"

"I never ’sided’ with anyone," Asher retorted, his patience completely exhausted. "I simply advised you as your good ex. Now, leave." He stepped closer, his demeanor menacing. "And I swear, if you bother me or any person associated with me again, I will call the police. Get the hell out of my sight!" Asher roared, his hand aggressively pointing toward the front door.

Frida scowled, every line of her body stiff with thwarted rage, and abruptly spun on her heels. ’I am going to kill you, Sara. It all happened because of you,’ she seethed internally, her steps quickening as she walked out of the mansion.

Asher’s fierce expression finally softened slightly. He knitted his brows together, massaging the tension from his forehead. A servant immediately approached him.

"Sir," the woman said, "the doctor confirmed he will arrive this evening to remove your stitches."

Asher simply gave a hum, the familiar pain beneath his shirt reminding him of the price he’d paid. He turned and headed back toward his private room.

~~~~~

"Thank you for understanding," Luca said softly when Sara confirmed she wouldn’t pressure him to move into his parents’ home.

Sara returned his gaze, a soft smile touching her lips. "I just wish our mothers had been here for us, Luca, when we needed them the most."

"Yeah," he murmured, his expression clouding slightly with regret. "And I’m truly sorry that my mother burdened you with the expectation of being a perfect daughter-in-law to them."

Sara’s smile deepened into one of gentle affection, appreciating his apology. "You are simply my wife, Sara," he continued. "You don’t have to be responsible for anyone else."

Luca began to close the short distance separating them, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. His hands instinctively found her waist, pulling her closer, and he leaned his head down, intending a kiss.

Before his lips could meet hers, Sara’s fingers rose, gently pressing over his mouth, stopping him.

"I want to rest," Sara murmured, her fingers still gently covering his lips. "My head has been aching for a while."

Luca’s hands tightened reassuringly on her waist, and he held her gaze. "A kiss can make it go away," he suggested with a playful grin, his thumb softly stroking her wrist.

She chuckled at his charming logic, shaking her head slightly. "Let me take a nap for now," she insisted gently.

Seeing her clear reluctance to kiss, a sudden, mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. Before she could protest, he swiftly swept her up in his arms in a bridal carry, completely flustering her.

"Luca!" she exclaimed softly, a blush creeping up her neck. "I could have walked! The bed is literally right here!"

He didn’t answer, instead carrying her the few steps and carefully lowering her onto the soft mattress. As he braced himself over her, the playful mood shifted, becoming instantly more intense. Sara’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as his face descended, his lips now only an inch away from hers.

Luca held his position for a long, intense moment, his breath mingling with hers.

"Sara, you’re making my patience wear thin every day," he admitted. "But I have to be a gentleman and wait for you to take the first step." He let out a slight, self-deprecating sigh. "I truly underestimated you. Turns out, I don’t affect you as much as I thought I did."

With that, he sat up, easing the tension between them. He reached for the soft duvet, gently pulling it over her and tucking her in. He then walked toward the windows, drawing the heavy curtains to cloak the room in soft shadow.

Sara finally allowed herself a deep, shaky breath, turning her head to watch him. She could see the muscles flex beneath the fine fabric of his shirt as he moved, and she nervously swallowed. As the room dimmed, Luca turned back towards the bed, but Sara instantly clamped her eyes shut, feigning sleep.

He stood there for a moment, silently observing her still form. He then picked up his phone from the bedside table and, without another word, quietly walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Luca descended the stairs. He headed straight for a secure room where he kept his licensed gun. With practiced efficiency, he checked the clip and clamped the weapon securely against his back, hidden beneath his shirt.

Without hesitation, he exited the house and climbed into his car. He didn’t waste a second, driving immediately toward the Falcone Estate.

He had already gone to the trouble of freeing Diego from behind bars, but that was just the preamble. Now, he had to make a much grander, more terrifying statement. He needed to show Diego and the entire Falcone family exactly who they had enraged, Luca De Augustino.

Vengeance was due, and he was going to deliver it personally.

The black sedan slid silently to a stop before the grand entrance of the Falcone Estate. The late evening sun, still bright cast long shadows across the manicured lawns. Luca stepped out of the car and walked directly into the house.

Inside, Marcella was standing in the expansive living room, issuing sharp instructions to several servants about preparing Diego’s favorite celebratory dishes.

However, her voice cut off abruptly mid-sentence. She instantly turned rigid as she realized who stood before her.

"Where is Diego?"

Marcella quickly masked her shock with hostility. "Why? What do you want with him?" she demanded, a fierce frown settling on her face.

In a swift motion, Luca reached behind him and pulled out the gun, leveling it straight at Marcella. "Now, speak instead of asking questions of me," he commanded. "If you don’t, the bullet will hit your skull. I am not a fan of bloodshed, but it will be no problem at all to kill the woman who tortured my dear wife for years."

Marcella’s breath hitched. As she struggled to find her voice, one of the terrified servants wasted no time, immediately bolting and scrambling up the grand staircase to alert Diego.