L'amore: The Luminara Series (12 page)

Sprawled on a velvet throw in front of the fire, we enjoy a feast of Rose’s Balmoral chicken with haggis, mushrooms, peppercorn sauce, sweet potatoes, homemade croquettes, sautéed greens, and mashed turnip—a familiar Scottish dinner.

I think of Granny and Eleanor and all their goodness. Eleanor and Rose are alike in many ways; this was one of Eleanor’s favourite dishes, and she would make this for us all the time.

Lucca reheats Rose’s soda bread in the oven while he pours me a glass of Pinot Noir. When he returns, I rub my bare feet along the sumptuous velvet of the throw, getting myself comfortable as I relish in the warmth and softness.

After feasting on the plentiful traditional meal, we enjoy homemade nectarine and mango cheesecake with Lucca’s guilty pleasure: cinnamon gelato. Lucca presses a button on a remote control and music echoes through a home music system: Chantal Kreviazuk’s “Feels Like Home.”

“Doc, please promise me you will never leave me. That you will never leave here. This is your home now, and I promise to give you as much space as you need, but please never leave,” he whispers, pulling me into his side. Gosh he’s gotten so emotional and deep all of a sudden.

“I’m not going anywhere. This is where I belong.
With you
.”

I curl into Lucca’s naked chest, drawing little shapes with my fingers in the amber glow from the flickering fire. I wrap my top leg around his, causing my shirt to ride up a little higher. Lucca feeds me a few slow mouthfuls of the cheesecake seductively then tops up the wine. Reaching over, I fork some cheesecake into his mouth, then I lean over and press my lips against his while he rolls his tongue around the citrusy sweet cream.

He groans. “It just tastes better when you share it with me.”

We listen to Lonestar’s “Amazed” during our soft intimate caressing. Then he lifts me up and walks me through the house back towards the pool.

I think it’s going to be a late night.

Before we make it to bed, I ensure Lucca shows me how to lock all the doors and windows. He appeases me by double-checking them with me. I know Cameron said this house has cameras and it’s safe, but out of habit I need to make sure everything is locked up.

Old Flame … New Fire

We sleep in the next day, and the day after that. Lucca and I stop by his main office to pick up some paperwork, and he fucks me over his desk and the sofa before we leave. His office is more like the entire top floor of the building, similar to a grand suite, and even has a separate bedroom. We never made it to the bed; although we did have a quick shower after our lovemaking. He has work to catch up on this afternoon, so I schedule an obedience training session with Peter while Lucca has a meeting at Club di Energia.

The training doesn’t go considerably well for me as I’m far too soft and Peter has no qualm telling me so. Rose is delighted to have a dog around again, and I catch her giving Doris treats on the fly while winking at me. We’ve moved Doris into the main house, but keep her locked inside the family room at night.

Peter stands firm in saying she needs to be put outside into a kennel, but Rose has a softer approach. Rose and I enjoy a long chat over tea at lunch, and she confesses that they were not able to have children of their own, hence why they bred and cared for dogs over the years.

I call Mr. Carlin to confirm everything is okay, then I call Granny and Grandpa to explain that I’m not at my house in Uddingston, but that we’ll be coming up to visit them. That call was positively draining. The usual third degree came from Granny while she fired a million rhetorical questions then answered them for me. Grandpa came on the line and played his mouth organ. He told me how much he misses and loves me, which makes me homesick for him.

I call Cameron after that, then Hazel, and finally Lucy to arrange a coffee date. Mark, my work partner at the clinic, has left several messages, so I note to call him back later on, then I make an appointment with my doctor to get another prescription of painkillers for my fractured wrist. The supply I got from the hospital in Tuscany is running low.

I’m going to call my mum this afternoon, but for that I need lots of strength and courage as just the thought of it exhausts me. Momentarily, I close my eyes on the lounger with my journal and phone hugged into my chest. The hazy Scottish summer sun shines through the glass wall on my face.

Sleep.

I dream of Tuscan sun, Florence and olives, dining alfresco and blue orchid flowers, the opera and Giovanni Costanzo taking photographs …

I’m choking, coughing, and struggling to breathe.

“Lexi, wake up. Please breathe,” Lucca panics. He scoops me up and cradles me into his chest, hushing me until I’m calmer. He then walks through the house and up the stairs until we reach the bedroom. He pulls the bedsheet back, then climbs in, pulling me to his chest.

“Are you okay? Do you want to tell me what that was about?” he asks.

“No, it’s nothing. I must have been dreaming.”

“It is not doing any good keeping it to yourself. You need to talk to me,” he pleads.

“Honestly, it was nothing, not even a deep sleep. I just dozed off.”

“But—”

I place my fingers on his lips to shush him. Normally, my bad dreams relate to my past, but strangely, this dream relates to my present and then provoked awful memories from my past.

Fuck!

File P for photography. Photography is the devil.

Lucca wraps his arms around me while I drift off again. I’m so tired, but this time I don’t have bad dreams because I’m wrapped in Lucca’s arms. I’m safe.

“Have I got time for a bath?” I ask as I stroll into the dressing room to pick something out to wear. Lucca is taking me out to dinner with Marco and some of his closest work colleagues tonight, so I need to dress appropriately. Hanging in the dressing room is a new dress in a suit bag.

“Lucca, what’s this?” I yell.

“Your clothes from Tuscany will not be here until Friday or Saturday, so I picked this for you today when I was out.”

I unzip a knee length, one shoulder, midnight-blue crepe dress with a satin bow at the shoulder. It’s draped in perfect crepe silk with an elegant shape to it. I look at the tag—it’s a Lanvin dress.

“Lucca, how did you manage to get this? It’s beautiful.”

“I had Marco go to Edinburgh and pick it up from Harvey Nicholls,” he replies, walking in behind me. “Do you like it?” he asks.

“Yes, I love it, but it’s a Wednesday night, and it’s very fancy,” I add, running my hand over the material. I also wonder why he bought something new. I have garments hanging up which would have been suitable.

“Baby, it is perfect and you will look stunning in it. Hurry and get dressed because the sooner we get dinner over with, the sooner I can slide my hands under that dress and strip it off you.”

“No more clothes, Lucca. I’m serious. This is your fetish, not mine. You have given me enough,” I firmly declare, furrowing my eyebrows with my hand on my hip.

There’s his “you are sexy and I am having you” look.

“Now we are never getting out of here because you have got me so horned up with that sexy fiery shit.” He presses into me, moving my hair away so he can kiss my neck.

Folded, crumbled, and melted.

Turning around, I kiss his cheek and smile, running my fingers over his dimple then down to his lips. He has me. I walk backwards, dragging him along with me, and then it’s hot, raunchy sex on that mirrored glass island top.

After our heated lovemaking, I watch the glint from the chandelier twinkle above me, reflecting sharp bright bursts of jewelled colour over my skin. Lucca brushes his thumb across the colourful little rainbow of gems on my body.

Once we’re showered and dressed, Lucca sits casually on the oversized velveteen chaise lounge in his bedroom, watching me getting ready. He drapes his arms casually across the back of it and leans back, spreading his legs lazily.

This image I love—when he’s relaxed, casual.

Smart and sexy.

I put the Cartier watch on and the diamond bracelet Lucca gave me in Florence. I pin my wavy hair up loosely then lean over to buckle the strap on my tan Givenchy high heels.

“Come here,” Lucca says when he notices me fumbling with the strap.

I wiggle over as my shoes aren’t properly secured, and he pulls me onto his lap, then lifts my leg one by one, fastening the strap buckle around my ankle.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.”

He runs his smooth fingers across my ankles then weaves them up my legs until he reaches the hem of my dress. His touch sends ripples over my body. The smallest gestures and simplicity of these touches set off amazing electricity through my veins.

“You look stunning, simply beautiful,” he says.

“So do you. You look so damn handsome in your suit.”

His eyes smile with gratification at my words. Once downstairs, straightening up, I look in the huge hallway mirror before lifting my Valentino clutch bag. This dress is loose but elegantly cut in a contemporary shape and fitted near the bottom. Very different in style to what I would normally wear, but I do love it. Satisfied, I take Lucca’s hand to greet Marco outside. He’s a very loyal friend to Lucca, and I know he thinks highly of him.

We arrive at one of Franco’s brother’s restaurants in Glasgow called La Tavola Italiana—the Italian Table. Marco parks the car, and Lucca leads me into the restaurant. The entire ground floor is busy with diners; even midweek, these restaurants are booked.

On entering, everyone stops to turn and stare. I suspect I need to get used to being in public with Lucca as he draws a lot of attention. He’s so handsome and people just can’t help themselves.

I clutch onto his hand just a little tighter. “They are staring at you because you are so damn beautiful,” he whispers into my ear. Blushing, I glance around choosing to ignore his comment because he has no idea just how attractive he is to women everywhere.

There is a bustling feel to the restaurant as it isn’t small and intimate like some quaint Italian restaurants. It’s more commercialised, but still warm and inviting. Franco’s brother, Rafaello de Santis, has done exceptionally well. He has spent fifty-one years building his empire and remains very hands on, spending most of his time in this restaurant.

Two attractive men walk towards us as we enter. Armando, Lucca’s younger brother, has the same dark skin and dark inky hair as Lucca. Although it’s cut shorter and has a fashionable, raised styled fringe. I can see the resemblance to Lucca and Orianna in him; although Lucca has more of Marissa’s looks, but they all appear to have Antonio’s crystal blue eyes.

Armando is slimmer and not as muscular or defined as Lucca. Rafaello is Franco’s twin brother and could be mistaken for Franco himself if it wasn’t for the brown birthmark at the side of Rafaello’s eyebrow.

“It is an honour to finally meet you, Lexi. My brother Franco was not exaggerating after all. You are truly a beautiful young woman. Congratulations on your recent engagement. The family is delighted for you. We will need to have a celebratory evening to give you a chance to meet everyone,” Rafaello says, holding my hands in front of him after double cheek kissing. Lucca has already told me his family and extended family is huge, a complete contrast to my small family.