Chapter 69

His eyes traveled over my face. "We'll take it to go." He paused, looking like he wanted to say more. But then the mood changed as he seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him. "Enzo!" he called.

Oh, my god. I'd totally forgotten about Enzo standing by the car. My cheeks burned as he came walking around the corner of the house.

"Put Veda in the car. I'm going to get our food to go and tell everyone we're leaving."

"I'll pull up to the door," he told Luca. Then he put his hand on my back and I tried not to wince as he led me over to the car.

I got into the backseat and was glad I had Luca's jacket when it cushioned my back against the leather. Leaning my head against the headrest, I closed my eyes and hoped Enzo couldn't hear the way my stomach was growling.

Luca came out five minutes later with a bag in his hand, his eyes sharp as he took in the area around him and got into the car. "I got you the lobster," he told me. "I hope that's okay."

"Can I eat it now?"

"If you want, but it'll be kind of hard without any silverware. However, I also have this." Reaching into the bag, he pulled out something wrapped in foil and handed it to me.

I opened it to find Irish soda bread inside. "I could kiss you right now," I told him. Then I shoved a large piece of it into my mouth before I thought to offer him any.

He took a piece anyway, and I watched out the window as the lights of the city passed by, smiling to myself at the look on his face.

IN THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED, my life with Luca fell into a rhythm. In the mornings, after he spent an hour or so abusing the punching bag in his home gym and had a shower, we had coffee together on the deck off the main floor when the weather was nice. On the rare occasions it rained this far into summer, we would sit in the seating area just inside the patio doors and listen to the thunder rumble across the sky. Those days were my favorite, when the storms made me feel like we were secluded from the rest of the world.

The first few days, Luca would ask me if I wanted to come train with him. Learn to fight.

"So when I overtake you and escape, it won’t weigh on your conscience?" I teased.

He just smiled. But it was strained. And not for the first time, I wished I could hear what he was thinking.

But though I exercised on a regular basis and was in pretty good shape, I would always refuse, telling him it was way too early to get that sweaty. I firmly believed getting up before the sun was a sin against god, and this man was awake a good hour before dawn every day.

In reality, that was only part of the reason I never took him up on his invitation to workout with him, but it was the only one I gave him. However, I didn't want to pass up this opportunity. If I was going to be in his world, it would probably behoove me to learn to protect myself. So instead, I asked him if either of my guards could teach me. After a long pause, he volunteered the larger of the two for the job. Enzo. Mr. Incognito.

When I asked him if he would teach me, he readily agreed. Three times a week he would take me into the gym and "attack" me, making me go through the motions of self-defense techniques over and over until it became second nature. When I asked Enzo why he was bothering to take the time to teach me, he just shrugged and told me more women should know how to fight, whether they lived in the world of the mafia or not.

Enzo pushed me to my limits and then demanded even more, but I found I enjoyed learning to fight. It gave me a sense of empowerment when I managed to land him on the mat at my feet. Perhaps Luca would've been a little easier on me, but maybe not. In any case, I would always wait to train until he was either in his office or gone from the house because I couldn't be in that room with him without remembering.

Today, I was there alone, going over a few combinations Enzo had taught me the day before. I stopped to rest in front of the wall of mirrors, my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. I was pushing myself hard, hoping I’d wear myself out enough to sleep through the night.

When I could breathe, I straightened and immediately caught my reflection in the panel before me. Gingerly, I probed my throat with the tips of my fingers, instantly caught up in the memories of Luca's hand wrapped around it, cutting off my air supply. I stood that way, transfixed by the images in my mind, until something shifted in my peripheral vision. My eyes shot to the side as my hand fell away.

Luca stood in the doorway, watching me. His jacket was off, his tie was gone, and his hair was disheveled, like he'd been running his fingers through it. As soon as I noticed him there, he stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, but not before I saw the ravaged expression on his face. Soon after, I heard his quiet footsteps retreating back down the hallway.

I hoped it unsettled him as much as it did me. The remembering. But I didn't think I would ever know.

That night he came to my room, and I almost sobbed in relief. It was the first time he'd done so since he'd gotten shot. I’d pushed him away, insisting on my own room, but I never thought he’d actually allow it. And other than his claiming of me at the restaurant, he hadn't tried to touch me. My plan seemed to be falling apart, and I didn't know how to get us back to the place we were. We talked every day, in a detached sort of way. But it wasn't enough. And every time I tried to get close to him physically, even just touching his arm or his hand, he would come up with an excuse and leave me, cold and alone.

But not this night.

Without a word, he lifted the covers and got in beside me. Careful of his still healing shoulder, he pulled me against him and wrapped his legs and arms around me. I waited for him to say something. To start touching me.

But he didn't. He just took a shaky breath, and ever so slowly, I felt his body relax against mine.

When I woke the next morning, he was gone.