Lusting For Luke_A Billionaires of Palm Beach Story

by Sara Celi

  “Well.” I swallowed a few times, willing my saliva to return. “I guess we will see you soon for another class.”

  “I hope it’s sooner than that.” He braced his arm on the lip of the reception desk. “I mean…since I’m so bad at this. Maybe I need some private lessons.”

  “We offer those,” Helen said from behind the desk.

  I whipped my head in her direction and frowned. “We do?”

  “Of course.” Helen kept her expression unreadable and her voice flat. “We always want to accommodate our clients in any way that we can.” She looked past me and focused on Luke. “If you would like a private lesson, we’d be happy to schedule one for you.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” Luke rose up from the desk and took out his car keys. “In the meantime, thanks for adding me into the class today. I appreciated the challenge.” He smiled at both of us and walked out the door.

  Luke had barely left the studio when Helen turned to me. She had wide eyes and her bottom lip pinched between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. “Are you kidding?”

  “About what?”

  “That’s Luke Rothschild. Rothschild.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you realize who he is?” Aunt Helen slapped her hand on the reception desk and a few pens rolled away from the notebook by the computer keyboard. “He’s like European royalty. Or at least descended from it.”

  “So are half the people who vacation on Palm Beach. Tell me something that I don’t know.”

  “But the Rothschilds aren’t just royalty. They control everything. Everything. All the banking in Europe, all this land, Wall Street. They’re like the guy behind the guy.”

  “Behind the guy, right?”

  She didn’t seem to catch my joke. “I can’t believe he came in here. I hope he never does again.”

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  “Because he’s a Rothschild. They’re shady. All kinds of hidden money and connections to Russian billionaires. And they are rich as hell.”

  “But you just offered him a private class.”

  She made a throwaway gesture with her left hand. “So?”

  “So, plenty. You’re being dramatic and unreasonable.”

  “No, I’m not. They’ll do anything to maintain their power, Natalie. Anything. This is the kind of family that isn’t happy unless it’s at its center of power. They spend their entire lives trying to run over the little guy.”

  I frowned. “Well, he just bought a ten-class pass, so we’ll be seeing him again.”

  Helen took a step backward and looked out at the parking lot like she expected him to come back at any second. “Luke Rothschild. Coming to our studio. This is unbelievable.”

  “Maybe.” I lifted a shoulder. “And he really seems perfectly nice.”

  “Not to mention well endowed, right? I saw that chest, too.” She cocked her head. “Oh, Natalie, you’re not fooling me.”

  “Fooling you about what?”

  “I know you well enough to know when you’re interested.”

  “He’ll come to a few classes. So what?” I distracted myself by straightening a few wayward brochures lying on top of the reception desk. “He’s probably seasonal anyway, like half the people in town. It won’t be a big deal if we don’t make it one.”

  When I braced my hand on the reception desk, though, I gasped.

  “What?”

  “He left his credit card,” I exclaimed. “He left his Amex Platinum.”

  “A platinum card? Who the hell leaves one of those lying around?” she asked, and crossed her arms. “Wait, don’t answer that. A Rothschild, that’s who.”

  I could have called him to come get the credit card, but I didn’t want to return it that way. I was too curious—and for once, I let that curiosity win. I would have been crazy to pass up any chance to see more about Luke Rothschild’s life, and his credit card had just presented me with that opportunity.

  It didn’t disappoint.

  Luke Rothschild lived at 546 North Ocean Boulevard, in a neighborhood of Palm Beach known for expansive and immaculate beachfront properties that came with private access to the ocean. His home was no exception—a white craftsman, clapboard mansion with a wraparound porch and a double front-door entry. It had grass that reminded me of a carpet, and a slip of private beach access across the street. A small sign on the driveway pointed to the service entrance, and I parked my car behind a blue Ford Focus I guessed belonged to a member of the household staff.

  An older man in a pair of blue overalls emerged from the side of the estate. “May I help you?” He wiped his hands on a gray towel as he walked toward me. “Is there something you need?”

  “Is Lu—Mr. Rothschild home?”

  It felt strange to say his name, and even stranger to call him Mr. Rothschild, but I didn’t think I counted as one of his friends. I didn’t know what I counted as. An acquaintance? A random woman?

  “He’s inside. May I tell him who you are?”

  “Um…Natalie… Natalie Johnson.”

  I resisted the urge to add the words “no one” at the end of my name. Since the man didn’t invite me inside, I decided to wait by the car and figure out a snappy way to reintroduce myself to Luke when I saw him again.

  But I couldn’t come up with anything that sounded very good in my head.

  In fact, I had never been good on my feet like that. In eighth grade, I cost our team the state debate championship because I froze during the last question. In college at the University of Miami, I made a C in speech class because I flubbed the extemporaneous part of the oral exam.

  And so, when Luke walked out of the back doorway, for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. God, he was hot. So hot. Gorgeous. The kind of handsome that could sell a million magazines. The kind that could tempt people into purchasing watches or cologne they didn’t need. And the kind of attractive that could send chills up my spine, even on a ninety-degree day.

  “Nice to see you again,” he called out as he moved closer to me.

  “Yeah, uh… I just…” I swallowed, willing the dryness in my mouth to go away. “Good to see you, too.”

  “You don’t sound like you’re good.”

  “No, I am.” I shook my head. “Really. Good—great—to see you again.”

  He stopped near the hood of my car. A wry grin crossed his face. “Are you stalking me, Natalie?”

  My cheeks flushed with heat. Yes, a hundred times, yes.

  When I didn’t reply right away, he laughed to himself. “I guess I should expect this since I wrote my address on those forms at your studio.”

  “What can I say? You asked for it.” I raised an eyebrow and tried to recover from being thrown off by the sheer manliness of him. “How are you feeling? Sore?”

  “Nah, I think I can make it. Like I said, I’ll have to start taking more classes. Maybe some private ones.” Luke stopped about five feet away from me. “I have to admit, I didn’t think that I would see you so soon.”

  “You mean you left your American Express platinum card at the studio on purpose?”

  “What? I did?” His eyes twinkled.

  I drew in a swift rush of air, mesmerized once again by his brooding, intense brown eyes. If bellies could also twinkle, mine did at that very moment.

  I could get used to this…

  “No, I didn’t leave my credit card on purpose,” Luke continued. “I would never leave behind something so important.”

  I smiled. “Maybe you were distracted.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  He braced his arm on my car, next to a medium-sized rust patch that never failed to remind me how much of a beater it was, and how desperate I often felt about my finances. I tried not to focus on that, though. Instead, I kept my attention on the finer details about the man before me. For example, when he grinned, his eyes brightened, and all his facial features sharpened. His arm had a light spray of freckles, and he wore a Rolex watch. He sti
ll hadn’t changed out of the t-shirt and sweatpants. Up close, I noticed the faded outline of the Harvard crest in the center of the shirt.

  Of course.

  A man like Luke would attend a prestigious university—maybe two, and probably after completing high school at an elite private school with tuition costing more than most people made in a year. It would practically be criminal if he didn’t have a pedigree with a past like that. I wondered if he’d had the grades to get in to Harvard, or if his parents made a significant donation. Not that it really mattered. It just cemented what I already knew—that Luke traveled in circles I could never get into.

  He was so out of my league. But I’d always wanted things I couldn’t have.

  “After you left, I found the card at the desk.” I took the Amex from my back pocket and examined it. It wasn’t made of plastic, but something else, something thicker and sturdier than any card I’d ever carried.

  “It’s made of stainless steel,” Luke whispered.

  “It is?” I forced myself to feel steadier and more confident. “You know, I could have done some major damage on Worth Avenue with this. I bet the salesgirls at Neiman Marcus wouldn’t have blinked.”

  “They all know me.”

  “I’m sure they do.” I laughed at the idea of racking up charges for thousands of dollars in jewelry, designer handbags, and expensive shoes with red bottoms bearing names I couldn’t pronounce. That would be fun. A total fantasy. “But I figured…you know where I work.” I presented the card to him. “So, no unexpected charges.”

  “How kind of you.”

  He took the other end of the plastic, and for a second, we held it together on opposite sides, his gaze penetrating my soul. I couldn’t look away, even if I’d wanted.

  Part of me wanted to stare into his eyes forever.

  “Drinks,” he said under his breath.

  “What?” I let go of my end of the card.

  “A drink. Inside. Would you like to come inside for a drink?”

  “Of course.” The reply floated out of my mouth after barely a thought.

  “Good.” Luke grinned, showing off a row of perfect, pearly teeth as he slipped the American Express into his pants pocket. “I owe you at least that much for your careful protection of my credit rating.”

  “When you put it that way…” I clicked my teeth a few times. “How can I say no?”

  Luke led me to the massive kitchen just off the side entrance to the house. That room alone had about the same square footage as my apartment, and it contained a large double oven, subzero refrigerator, center island, and a beautiful blue Mediterranean backsplash. I’d seen kitchens like this in magazines, but never up close. This one came right out of a chef’s dream, and could have been photographed for any editorial spread in a glossy monthly magazine.

  Wow.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” Luke gestured at four black barstools that rimmed an extended countertop. I followed his orders and chose the middle one. He walked to the fridge and opened the right-hand side. “Let’s see. I have red wine, soda, sparkling water, some lemonade…”

  “Sparkling water is fine.”

  He turned around, and my stomach flipped as I noticed how the light from the kitchen window highlighted the angles of his face and sharpened his jaw. “Would you like a shot of vodka in that?”

  “No, that’s fine, just straight.”

  “You’re not one of those health nuts, are you? No drinking? Juicing all the time? Lot of kale salad?” His gaze roamed my body for a brief beat, and again, a familiar deliciousness twisted in my stomach. “Since you teach yoga and all.”

  “Nope. Just don’t like drinking on a weeknight.”

  “I do.”

  I laughed. “Noted. And just for reference, I don’t like kale.”

  “Me either. Tastes like cardboard.”

  Luke took a bottle of beer from the shelf in the fridge door. “I’ll drink to that.” He fixed my drink, then settled down on the barstool at the other end of the countertop. “Bottoms up.” He raised his bottle of beer to me, and I raised my glass.

  We both took a sip, and we didn’t take our eyes off each other. In fact, for a moment, it felt like once again, he could see inside of me, all the way to the deepest and most hidden parts of my soul. I shivered at the thought—because I liked it. A lot.

  I wanted him to look at me that way more. Much more.

  “You’re very interesting, Natalie,” he said as he set down the beer.

  “Come on. I’m not.” I waved away his compliment. “What makes you say that?”

  “Most of the women I know fall all over themselves to be around me. They think…they want something, and it’s obvious. You don’t seem to.”

  “Except for the time when I ran into your car.”

  He laughed. “Except for that.”

  I thought again about my meager efficiency apartment, the outstanding balance on my car, my student loans, my credit card debt, and the fact that most weekend nights I can barely afford one drink at the city’s trendiest bars. Plus, this man had seen his share of cosmopolitan and sophisticated women in his life. I knew that without asking him. “I’m pretty boring, Luke. Nothing special. Just normal.”

  He laughed. “What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

  “Average. Simple. The ninety-nine percent. Most of the people in West Palm.”

  “You hardly fit the definition of the word ‘average,’ Natalie.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  “Agree to disagree.”

  “You should see my bank balance, then.” I laughed without humor and drank some sparkling water. “That’s pretty…below average. Student loans, credit card payments, the whole bit. Just like almost every other millennial I know. A busted budget before I even get paid.”

  “Is that something you’re worried about? Money?”

  “A little.” I shrugged and looked away, focusing for a moment on the intricate tile that made up the backsplash. Each one had a unique, scripted pattern created with blue paint. “Okay, a lot.”

  “Why don’t you set a schedule and stick with it. You’ll pay it off in no time. Simple as that.”

  “I wish it was that easy.” I sighed, thinking about the next loan payment for the thousandth time that week. “I needed the money so that I could study marketing and business at the U. They gave me a partial scholarship, but it didn’t cover all the costs. While I was there, I worked at a small insurance company in Coral Gables. They said they’d hire me full time when I graduated.” I paused. “And then they’d closed.”

  “Just like that? That’s so sad.”

  I glanced down at my sparkling water and cursed myself for not having taken up his offer of something stronger. “The owner died, and the whole business went into free fall. They had to lay off basically everyone. When I had trouble finding another job, my aunt offered to make me assistant manager at her studio.” I shrugged. “I’ve been in West Palm Beach ever since.”

  He drank another swig of beer. “Do you like it here?”

  The way he asked the question made it seem like he wanted an honest answer, not like he just longed to keep the conversation going. “No, I don’t think I do. At least…not up until now.”

  “Hopefully, things will change soon.” He paused, and his gaze met mine again. “I have to say, the whole time that you’ve been sitting here, I’ve been wondering about something.”

  I sucked in a rush of air. It felt like the atmosphere had changed in the kitchen. “What?”

  Luke took another sip of his beer. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asked softly.

  “As in dating?”

  He nodded. “It’s probably rude to ask, but I’m curious.”

  I shook my head. My love life was nothing more than a joke, and it had been for almost two years. My last date took place about a month before—a guy named John who worked for his family’s insulation business, got drunk before we ordered appetizers, and referred to women as “babes” in regul
ar conversation. Before that, I’d had nothing but a string of first dates that led nowhere, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had sex.

  In an age of swipe left and swipe right, dating sucked. Royally.

  “I’m single,” I said. “Very single.”

  “Good.”

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that reply. “Good?”

  “Yes. Good.”

  There it was again—Luke had the strangest expression on his face, the kind of look that made an electric pulse rush though my body. That hadn’t happened since junior year at the U, when I met Mark from Fort Myers, who drank too much cheap vodka and wanted to be an oncologist. Mark had set me off kilter too, and he was the first guy I ever thought I loved. The ten months we spent together had been some of the most intense of my life.

  It hadn’t ended well, though—Mark cheated. Twice.

  I stayed with him because I didn’t want to be alone, even though it hurt every day to keep up the relationship. It finally ended when we graduated, which seemed like the most natural time for a break. He moved to Tallahassee for medical school, and I stayed in South Florida. And since then, there hadn’t been anyone else who made my heart beat faster, the back of my neck heat up, and the toes curl in my sandals.

  Except Luke.

  Something vibrated on top of the desk in the far end of the room. “Excuse me.” Luke picked up an iPhone, read the screen, and cursed. “Just my luck.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Sort of.” He replaced the device. “Jennifer—a friend—was planning on accompanying me tonight to a cocktail reception that starts at seven.” He sighed. “She can’t make it up from Fort Lauderdale. Caught in meetings and a late condo showing for her real estate business.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I took another gulp of my drink and stood. “And speaking of which, I just looked at the time, and it’s almost six. I should go so that you can get ready.”

  When I took a few reluctant steps toward the door, he moved in front of me and put his hand on my arm.