Luca has only been gone a few hours and I swear I can still feel him on me. My body is still on fire, and I can’t put it out. Even after a cold shower.
So I’ve decided to distract myself. He might have a mansion, but I’ve seen every square inch of the damn place.
It’s all black, white, and gray.
I’ve managed to get through some of the photography course, going out into the backyard and snapping pictures of the vast amounts of greenery he has planted.
I’ve nailed the carbonara recipe.
It’s peaceful here. Luca was right; it’s like a retreat, where I get to snuggle with my own Greek God of a man. I don’t have Bobby, or the other guards, two steps behind me at every turn. I don’t have the overwhelming need to drink, thinking Dante will appear around every corner. And I even manage to sleep without the nightmares anymore.
I plop down on the couch and kick my legs up on the coffee table, turning on the newest episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. If Luca’s not here to make me laugh, then Captain Holt can instead.
I can’t help but think about poor Maddie and Grayson. I don’t know them, but Luca loves them like his own family. He’s so torn up about this, it’s hard to bear. Just because we’ve lived our lives in the mafia doesn’t make it hurt less.
“Hello?” A female voice startles me.
I turn down the volume on the TV. “Can I help you?” I call back and stand up.
Luca never warned me of any visitors.
An older lady, with her hair in a neat bun and glasses resting on the top of her head, steps around the corner into the living room. She has two big shopping bags, one in each hand.
I rush over. “Here, let me help you with those.” I take the bags from her hand and place them up on the counter.
She looks me up and down. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”
“Pardon?” I take a step back.
“I’m Gianna. Luca’s mom.”
“Rosa,” I reply, still completely confused. I keep looking at her. I can’t place her, but she seems so… familiar. I thought I recognized her in the photos, but just assumed that was because of Luca speaking about her.
Unless—I can feel the blood drain from my face.
She saw me.
“Did you see–”
She cuts me off and gives me a sad smile. “I came to help Luca one night. He was a bit panicked and exhausted.”
I cast my eyes to the ground, wishing the earth would tear open and swallow me whole. I know Dr. Jenkins tells me I have nothing to be embarrassed about–hell, Luca is very adamant about that, too. It doesn’t mean there is a switch I can flip to turn off the awful truth.
It’s embarrassing. His mom saw me at my rock bottom.
“I’m so sorry you had to see me like that. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
“Don’t apologize, please.” She pushes a gray tendril of hair behind her ear before pulling the first bag to her and opening it.
“It shouldn’t have been your or your son’s responsibility to get me clean.” I rub my hands along my neck as my heart rate picks up, the nerves getting the better of me.
“Well, Luca shouldn’t have kidnapped you, either. Has he been good to you?” A bag of flour and a bag of sugar appear from one of the bags.
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. “Your son is a good man.”
She places her palms flat on the counter as she looks at me. When she raises one brow, I can see where Luca gets it. “Hmm. He could be. He just needs himself a nice woman to keep him under control.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. For some reason, I kind of want her to like me.
“Would you like a coffee?” I ask, trying to fill the silence.
“Really making yourself at home,” she huffs, and I take a step back.
Okay, then.
As I make my way over to the machine, she calls out after me. “Black with one sugar, please.”
Exactly like my Nona. A painful twinge tugs in my chest at the memory.
She starts rummaging through the cupboards and tosses an apron at my head.
“Here, put that on. I volunteered to bake cupcakes for the orphanage, and Luca’s kitchen is bigger than mine. I could use the help.”
A sadness washes over me, remembering cooking at home with my mom and Nona. How mom would let me lick the spoon behind Nona’s back. It was the best part.
“What’s Luca’s favorite cake?”
Opening one of the lower cupboards, she starts pulling out the mixing bowls. “Lemon drizzle. The recipe with the limoncello in, of course.” She stops and looks up at me. Her tanned cheeks pale.
Shit. I cringe as the realization settles on her face.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I wait for the look of disapproval from her. Her son can’t even have his beloved cake because of me.
But it doesn’t come. Instead, she winks. “I have an amazing recipe without it I’ve been wanting to try. Maybe next time?”
A smile forms on my lips. She isn’t judging me.
I stand and watch as she shuts the door and stands, pointing to the second bag on the counter. “There are some things in here from Luca. And Sienna gave me some books for you. Luca’s worried you’re getting bored.”
I look in the flowery duffel and I can’t help but smile. A big, pink hot water bottle, some rose oil bath salts and enough chocolate to last a month.
“Did he–”
“Yes, all requested from Luca himself. With instructions to hand deliver and make sure you were okay.”
I bite back a grin and dig out one of the Hershey bars and take a bite.
Mrs. Russo puts her hand on her hip and holds out her empty hand with a teasing smile. I chuckle and hand her a bar for herself.
“He’s learned. It’s the fastest way to make a woman smile,” she says, pointing the chocolate at me and winking.
I let out a sigh of relief. We’re getting somewhere.
By the time we bake and drink Luca out of coffee, it’s dark outside. Mrs. Russo grabs her things to leave, and I walk her to the door.
“You take care of yourself, Rosa. You’re a good one.” Her warm hand rests on my arm before she steps off the concrete porch.
“It was nice to meet you, properly.”
“Tell that boy of mine I’ll be having words with him when he decides to come home. If he comes home this time.” She shakes her head and pushes her round framed glasses up her nose.
“I will.” The thought of Luca not coming back sends a cold shiver up my spine.
I close the door behind her as she slips into her car and drives off.
The giddy feeling of having someone to talk to fades, so I decide to dig out one of these dark gray books Sienna sent me.
Five hours later and I’m still engrossed in this book. Not just any book–the damn dirtiest, filthiest smut. It has me blushing and giggling, even at times my mouth hangs open. He fucked her with the handle of a knife. Am I completely wired wrong for finding that even remotely hot? I’ve escaped reality and entered into a realm of sexual freedom. There’s no embarrassment here, no trauma. Now, I’m itching to get to the end, I can’t get to sleep until I know he groveled his ass off.
It has also reminded me of how much I have missed out on. I’ve never been kissed, not like the way Luca kissed me earlier. I’ve never so much as had an orgasm by a man. I’ve been so wrapped up in running from my demons, I have never lived.
I’ve never wanted it. I have certainly never craved it.
Until Luca.
A sadness creeps over me, and I close the book. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how much I can even handle without the fear consuming me again.
What if I have sex with Luca and Dante’s face flashes in my mind? What if he thinks I’m completely broken?
I curl up into a ball on the couch and pull the covers under my neck.
What if I really am?
