L'amore: The Luminara Series (29 page)

“Is there anything else that is worrying you? You seem deflated and out of sorts,” he asks. Tensing up, I rub the sole of my foot on top of the other and feel thankful they are only scraped and don’t have the same abrasions as I had in Tuscany.

“Yes, I had an unpleasant experience in the doctor’s clinic.” I grind my teeth and flex my muscles.

“Christ. Why did you not tell me? Baby … what is wrong?” He panics, leaning over to nuzzle his face into my neck and grip me tighter.

“I’ve been putting off telling you because I knew I’d end up tense and angry about it. I … I’m just so exasperated thinking about it, never mind having to face it.” I’m overwrought; Lucca takes his hands to my shoulders and begins to knead them, freeing some tightness in my muscles.

“Tell me, dolcezza. You are worrying me. What did you face at the doctor’s that has gotten you so wound up? Are you pregnant?” His voice sounds buoyant. I wish he’d drop that hope. Why would he think that? I have not given him any indication that I am. And I’ve been drinking wine today; does he think I would be that careless if I were?
Sheesh.

“Absolutely not. I’m not pregnant, nor planning to be. Do you want to know or not?” I snap, slightly pissed off because I have something serious to tell him and if I were pregnant, I think I’d have more respect for him and tell him right away … not pitter-patter around the truth.

“Of course I do. I am sorry, I do want to know. I only asked that because it is the first thing that came into my head. Doctor’s … women’s issues … pregnancy? And you do want to talk. I am sorry, I should not make assumptions.” He does sound apologetic.

“No, you shouldn’t. I was there for prescription meds for my wrist.” I chew the inside of my cheek, I wasn’t even going to tell him about the painkillers but he needs set straight, he has far too vivid an imagination.

He sighs, leaning down to kiss under my ear then rubs his fingers over my wrist, lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my wrist sweetly. “I … am … so … sorry.” His tone is soft and gentle and it’s not lost on me that his apology is deeply sincere and from his heart. “Please tell me what happened,” he adds after caressing my wrist.

“I saw her, the woman who was in our bed. She was in the waiting room and stared right at me.” I sigh. Subconsciously, I draw my knees up to my chest, feeling the familiar insecurities I did the other night. This is why I tried to avoid talking about it, because I don’t want to get flared up before Lucca’s family arrive.

“Did she say anything to you?” he panics and tenses.

“No, but if looks could kill …”

“Fuck. I am sorry. I would gladly make her disappear if I could. Unfortunately, she does not live far from here, but please do not let her bother you because I know she got the message. She knows not to cross the line, to stay away, and what you mean to me. I have made that pretty clear. If she threatens us, trespasses again, or commits any other sort of unsavoury acts, then I might be able to get a restraining order set in place. She was charged with breaking and entering, so I imagine she will try and avoid us.” He kisses just below my ear then pauses holding his lips still, breathing heavily against my skin.

“What’s her name?” I ask. I’m curious and I never even thought to ask after the drama of that night.

“Why do you want to know? What does it matter? I would rather not cause you any more distress and unwanted thoughts regarding that awful night.” I feel his chest expand and lift as he stretches, running his fingers through his hair.

I’m silent.

“It is Leila,” he whispers, sounding like he’s ashamed or even hurt to say her name.

Now I’m being mentally vindictive to Leila. Leila the slut, bitch, whore. At least now I know, not that it makes a difference, it’s just another name to add onto my list of Lucca’s exes.

Trying to change the subject because I feel he has become uptight since I brought her up and I don’t need any more tension today. I tell him about the church and Ms. Morrison sending her wishes. I then ask him about Suzanne because it has been pressing on my mind since we were out for dinner.

After a pregnant pause, he answers. “Suzanne is Casey Huddersfield’s sister.”

“Casey? Our therapist?”

“Yes, they are very alike.”

This explains the resemblance and that’s why she was acting very motherly and caring. I wonder if Casey has told her about my past, but then she is professional and follows a code of conduct with disclosures. Suzanne must know my mother then? I wonder if that is why she has been going out of her way to help Lucca and me. Obviously it’s her job but I sense she is being extra compassionate to me and loyal to Lucca.

“Actually, I called Casey today and explained about our relationship and asked her to call your mum and check on her as opposed to Cameron calling her.”

“What did she say?” I swallow, my mouth feeling parched and rough as sandpaper.

“She is happy for us and was surprised to find out we are together, but definitely delighted and said she will call your mum. Casey mentioned she is going up north fairly soon to her cottage so she will drop by and see your mum as well.”

This is a relief. I know Casey will always say the right thing and help Mum focus. The fact that she knows Lucca well is a bonus; maybe she will say good things to assure Mum and help put her mind at ease. Thanking him, I reach up to kiss his jaw then think about the winter day a few years ago when I was in Casey’s office for a session and bumped into Lucca by chance.

Fate.

Destiny.

Future.

“There’s something I want to speak to you about,” he adds, bringing me out of my musing.

“Oh.”

“Next week, I need to work in London for some design briefs on a development I am working on, and I have a very important meeting I need to attend. Then I need to go to Sardinia to finalise my contracts on the Porto Cervo renovation. I want you to come with me because I do not want to leave you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine by myself. I have Hazel, Cameron, Rose, Peter, Mr. Carlin, Doris, and my girlfriends,” I reply, although I don’t really want him to go. When we left Tuscany I knew Lucca’s work played a huge role in his life. He’s a very successful businessman and has obligations. I guess I thought we would live in our blissful holiday stage a little longer before life intervened.

“No, I want you with me. Also, I wanted to tell you Francesca has been in touch.” He slides his hand down my arm which is coated in droplets of perspiration from the heat of the sauna. I notice both our bodies are wet and reddening in colour with the heat.

He has my full attention. “How is she recovering after her overdose?” I ask, genuinely interested in her wellbeing.

“She is doing much better. She has asked me to consider sourcing her fashion company’s new premises in Milan as they are expanding and need a bigger property. She is aware Osurac Industries owns a few buildings in the city, but I wanted to speak to you about it first.”

He sounds cautious seeking my approval. I think the heart-to-heart we had the other night has made him more sensitive and considerate of my feelings.

Dear Lord, this day is just getting more challenging by the minute.

History!

Fucking history!

Fran is always going to be a part of Lucca’s life, but he lost contact with her for over two years and now after her suicide attempt in Tuscany, I think he feels indebted to help in any way he can. I believe it’s honourable of him to want to help her, but it’s thrown me off as I didn’t expect her to be in touch so soon. I thought she would be recovering and work would be the last thing on her mind.

“Well, are you going to?”

“Not if you do not want me to, and I would understand if you object. It is just that I feel as if I need to help her progress in her career because it is the only thing giving her hope and focus at the minute. She is not back at work yet, but she would like a transition before winter.”

He confirms exactly what I was thinking and has the decency to ask if it bothers me. I like that he’s respecting me. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Lucca being back in Francesca’s life; they have so much history together, but I hate to see anyone suffer like that. If her career gives her escape, then I want him to help her. Distraction has always worked for me and maybe it will be good for her as well.

“Okay, I want you to help her. I trust you.” I tilt my head to the side and gaze up to search his face for signs of conflict. All I see is warmth in his soft, loving eyes looking down at me.

He leans over, placing a kiss on my neck. “You are so special. There is no one like you.” He finishes on my lips. We kiss for so long I barely notice the sauna’s temperature increasing. When we part lips, I struggle to get a breath.

Dizzy.

Hot.

Dehydrated.

“Lucca, I need out,” I panic feeling light-headed.

He lifts me to my feet and opens the door. The cool air brushes my stinging skin and fills my rasping throat and empty lungs. It’s heavenly.

Famiglia

After showering properly and washing my hair, I walk into my dressing room and discover boxes and cartons littered all over the floor. My clothes from Tuscany have arrived. Looking through it, I try to find a suitable outfit for tonight. Even though the dressing room is stocked with clothes, I want to ensure I get the wear out of these clothes first; it seems like such a waste otherwise.

I choose the black and gold braided miniskirt and black chiffon vest top which I wore when I left the hospital after my wrist operation. I moisturise with my Brazil nut body butter, put leave-in conditioner in my hair to let it dry naturally, then apply some light makeup. I put my jewellery back on before I go and help Lucca in the kitchen.

Lucca has everything under control and won’t let me help much. He has fresh ingredients everywhere, the pantry is stocked, and the fridge is filled with alcoholic beverages. I lift a carton of orange juice out of the fridge then pick up some kiddie fruit smoothies and yogurts and grin at Lucca.

“Roberta loves those shake things, and A-Jay and Emilio love those fromage frais pots.” He shrugs.

Endearing.

I think it’s very cute. His thoughtfulness is very sexy.

I place them back in the fridge.

Hmmm. It gets me thinking. I imagine Lucca would be a doting father.

I jump onto the kitchen island and sip my fruit juice as I watch him. He’s a natural with food and hospitality. “Tell me about the hospitality business you own. I know you said you were a silent partner but you never told me anything about it.”

“I own several restaurants but choose to focus on my property development and my health clubs primarily.” He stands between my legs and wraps his arms around my waist. I link my feet behind his ass.

“Do I know the chain?” I ask.

He takes a drink of my orange juice, then kisses my wet lips. “Luminara.”

I’m left speechless.

“What? As in
the
Luminara? You own that chain?” I’m dumfounded. Actually, I don’t know why I’m that surprised. I now understand his passion for light, and why he proposed to me the night of the Luminara festival.

Luminara is rustic, authentic, and a little quirky. It’s a renovated church with all the original features. It boasts heavy wrought iron chandeliers with candles, impressive artwork, and private seating areas with red roses and purple velvet curtains and drapes separating the areas. I can see Lucca’s stamp on it because it’s very opulent. It’s known for being a one-stop socialising spot, with a restaurant, bar, nightclub, and function suite.

Lucca washes the different tomatoes and separates them for the various dishes he plans to cook. “Yes, that is the one. I hope to take the chain to Tuscany and surrounding areas. Of course, it is early days, but it has been very successful so far. I have a professional management team and an incisive club manager. Giorgio is great, very hands on, and a clever guy. We have had our moments in the past, especially regarding the chain and my land in Tuscany, but that is all water under the bridge and we work well together.”

I wonder why Giorgio was not invited to the meal the other night if he is one of Lucca’s managers; I guess he would have been working himself. “We had our Christmas night out last year in Luminara. I stayed for the meal and a few drinks, but never went down to the club for the dancing.”

“Good, I am glad you are not in clubs on your own. I will take you when you want to go. After that night in Firenze, I am not sure I ever want you in a club again without me,” he says protectively as he dices vegetables. He’s oblivious to how possessive he sounds sometimes. I tut, shake my head, and roll my eyes. “What did you think of the food?” he asks curiously.

“It was beautiful from what I remember. I think I had the steak.” I wrinkle my nose, tilt my head, and look up at the ceiling trying to remember.

He smiles at me. “Good. Well, I will take you one night, and if you want any changes made to the menu, let me know and I will arrange it with Giorgio.”