by Tamara Lush
“Then don’t worry about my interview, Luca. Worry about yourself. Have you started on your second book?”
Luca grunted. He didn’t want to tell his uncle that he had spent the last few days moping around, wondering if it was even worth it to write anymore. He didn’t want any more complications, violence or death—three things that he abhorred. The inertia had lately morphed into a more sinister emotion: apathy. Usually he was outraged by the corruption that had seized his country in a death grip, and he wanted justice for his parents’ murder. But, pfft. Justice. Hadn’t done him or his prosecutor father any good. A desire for justice had gotten his parents killed and forced Luca to go on the run.
He constantly reminded himself that there were far worse places in the world to hide out. He had been in some of them in his attempt to disappear from Bruno Castiglione’s scrutiny. Going on the run had worked, because he was still alive. But he longed to stop running. His uncle’s summer home was as good a sanctuary as any, but sometimes Luca wondered if it was more like Alcatraz—a jail on an island, if one with 300-thread count sheets, a home gym and wine cellar. Worse, Luca felt added guilt for his life of luxury in the wake of his parents’ murders, and guilt at his ingratitude. Guilt on top of guilt on top of guilt.
Maybe he wouldn’t write the second book after all. It wasn’t like he needed the money. Between his parents’ inheritance and the profits from his first, best-selling exposé, he never had to work again. And his uber-wealthy uncle, who had never married or had children, made it clear that he would help Luca any way he could.
Still, Luca was itching for something different. His round-the-world trip hadn’t quenched his restlessness or made him feel any safer. He was unsettled, unmoored, tense.
Was it the scorching kiss with Skylar that sparked this? What would it be like to really get to know her? Yet why would he want to, at this perfectly wrong time in his life? He’d always had short, meaningless flings, always made sure the women were aware that he didn’t want attachments.
“Zio,” Luca said, using the Italian word for uncle. “Why didn’t you ever marry?”
It was an intimate question of a man he barely knew, but Luca had been without any meaningful encounters for so long that he hoped his uncle would forgive his curiosity.
Federico stared at him for several seconds. “I almost did. Once, back in Italy. No one since. You? Did you have a girlfriend before you left?”
Luca laughed. “Many.”
“Ever been in love?”
Luca snorted. “No. I’m not even sure about ‘love.’ Not after what I saw my parents go through. I don’t know if you were aware, but they were pretty nasty to each other while I was growing up. I never understood why they didn’t divorce.”
Federico stared out the window and cleared his throat. “Luca, here’s what I can tell you about love. Love is when you feel regret decades later for making the wrong decisions. That’s love.”
What an odd statement.
Luca frowned, and there was silence in the Mercedes for several moments. Only when the car pulled into the gated community did his uncle turn to him and add, “I know you’re anxious, and I know you miss your parents and Italy. Anyone would feel like that in your situation after what you’ve been through.”
Federico continued, speaking in rapid-fire Italian. “You should relax while you’re on Palmira. I invited you here so you could work on your second book and plan your next move. I’m trying to do everything I can to make you safe. Who’s going to find you here? Who even wants to find you anymore? I got you the bulletproof Mercedes. I got you the gun. There’s an excellent security system at the house. And I offered you bodyguards.”
“No. No bodyguards.” Luca raised his hand in a halting gesture. The idea of someone monitoring him around the clock made him queasy. He chided himself for earlier questioning whether Federico was taking his situation seriously. His uncle had actually done a lot for him. Much more than he’d ever expected. So maybe he should calm down. Palmira seemed sleepy and safe. Just what he needed, a quiet place so he could be alone with his mountain of guilt.
The car pulled into the driveway.
“Take it easy, Luca,” his uncle said. “Rest. Here’s what you should do. Find a girl on the island to fuck. Keep it light. You know how to do that. Don’t get too involved. That’s what I always do when I’m stressed about a big case. I find a cute girl to spend time with, take the edge off.”
Luca’s answer was a quick flick of his hand and a grimace. Hearing about his uncle’s sex routine during personal injury trials wasn’t what he wanted, and he didn’t desire any random, easy American girl, not anymore at least. He wanted the not-so-simple Skylar.
Well, he didn’t want a lecture from Federico about anything. He’d try to stop thinking about Skylar, and that was that. He didn’t want any more complications. His life was already complicated enough, all because of his quest for the truth.
CHAPTER FIVE
“You have a great condo.” Annalisa rolled onto her side away from Carlos. She looked out the narrow, floor-to-ceiling window at the busy downtown Miami street.
He pressed against her and kissed her shoulder. She’d thrown on his button-down shirt before he woke up so he wouldn’t see the scars on her arms. Went without underwear, though, knowing that would distract him.
The bed was too soft, and she sank into the pillowy mattress. She wanted to leave but still didn’t have the information she needed. Hopefully this wouldn’t require a weeks-long relationship. She didn’t have time for that.
“Meh. It’s only a studio. It’s all I can afford now. I can’t wait to be rich. Really rich. Like my boss. You should see the places Rossi has.”
Annalisa rolled over and stroked Carlos’s bare chest with her fingertips. “Si? How many homes does he have?”
“I know he’s got the downtown penthouse. Not too far from here. He likes to walk to work. On the weekends he sometimes goes to this little place across the state. He took a bunch of his top-billing lawyers there for a Christmas party. It’s a huge mansion on an island. Palmira. I think he also has a condo somewhere in the mountains. Asheville, I think.”
As Carlos talked about how he loved the snow because it was so different than Miami’s humidity, Annalisa tuned him out.
“What’s this?” he abruptly asked, running a finger over three faint red marks on her inner thigh.
“Oh!” She wouldn’t tell him that she’d carved the marks intentionally. With a razor blade. “Can you believe that’s from waxing? This bitch at a place on South Beach really messed with my skin.”
Carlos cooed and settled himself between her legs, kissing the marks softly before moving his lips to the junction of her thighs.
A couple of hours later, she kissed Carlos goodbye. She went to her hotel and changed into a casual sundress and a lightweight sweater, then sat at a café drinking espresso on the bottom floor of Federico’s building. It would be worth scoping this out for a while, but she suspected Luca was on the island. He loved sun and sand. She remembered how he looked one morning, running along a beach near Naples, rivulets of sweat running down his tan chest and thick back muscles. Surely he would choose Palmira Island over Miami. It was smaller and safer. Calmer.
He was definitely somewhere in Florida. That’s what her cousin had said. And God knew her cousin—Bruno Castiglione, Naples’s most powerful Mafia boss—had informants throughout the government and Italy’s banking system. Luca must have talked to someone in Italy, and that someone told someone, and that someone was on the payroll of Bruno. Or maybe Bruno’s men had infiltrated Luca’s computer. Who knew? It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she was going to rescue him.
Luca was smart and handsome, but he wasn’t infallible. He had never figured out that she and Bruno—the subject of his book—were second cousins. To be fair to his excellent reporting skills, she did have a huge family. It stretched back centuries and through neighborhoods in and around the sprawl of Naple
s, and even Annalisa hadn’t met everyone. It wasn’t like she and Bruno were close or had even grown up together; Bruno was older than her by twenty years. He was just one of dozens of relatives, some more criminal than others. It was only after Luca broke up with her that she hacked into his computer and stumbled on his notes about Bruno. While they were dating, she had no idea what his project was about, because he never shared it with her.
If Luca hadn’t broken her heart, then she wouldn’t have had the breakdown or snooped in his computer. If she hadn’t had the breakdown, then she wouldn’t have told Bruno that Luca was the author of the anonymous bestseller.
It was awful, though, how Bruno had Luca’s parents killed. Signora Rossi was so kind. Made such delicious panettone at Christmastime.
In a way, Luca brought his troubles onto himself. But that was all in the past now.
“I’ll always be grateful to your loyalty, Annalisa,” Bruno had told her right after she revealed her discovery about Luca’s book. He’d squeezed her bony hands with his big ones and she felt useful and needed. “That’s why I’m paying for you to get better, so you’ll stop hurting yourself.”
She’d gone away to the hospital in a little town three hours south of Naples. One long year—that’s what it took to get better, the professionals said. It didn’t stop her from doing some of the things she loved, like fucking tall, dark-haired men. One of her conquests was even a doctor. And she’d managed to cut herself a few times in the hospital, once with a piece of broken glass she found on the grounds.
The psychiatrists tossed out all sorts of diagnoses. Probably genetic, they said, but her stepfather’s advances when she was twelve hadn’t helped either. After the long and tedious treatment, she’d convinced everyone that she wouldn’t cut again and that she’d take her meds. Be a good girl and live a normal life.
After she was released, she had been trying, and somewhat succeeding, to forget about Luca. Then, a few weeks ago, Bruno called and asked her to visit while he was on house arrest. He told her that Luca was in Florida. The news triggered all of the old intrusive, obsessive feelings, and her need to see him flared up like lighter fluid on a bonfire.
Looking back, telling Bruno about Luca’s book was the worst thing she could have done. How could she have been so horrible? But that was back when she hated him. Now she loved him again. Now she was certain about her feelings. Now that she was in the Sunshine State and off that stupid medication, her mind was calm. Purposeful. Invincible. She would make it all up to Luca by finding him and never letting go. She’d help him hide from her evil cousin. She would die for Luca.
“You need to stay away from him,” her best friend told her before she flew here. “Get back on your pills and return to that hospital.”
Closing her eyes, Annalisa allowed the morning sun to wash over her face. She wasn’t crazy, no matter what her family and friends thought. She was in love. Luca would understand after she proved her loyalty to him. He would kiss her long and slow like he used to, and her pain would vanish.
The memory of their first meeting was still fresh and pure. The way he’d strode confidently into the newsroom at the paper in Naples, wearing a charcoal gray jacket over a white button-down, expensive jeans and dark leather shoes. How the corners of his mouth turned up and the way his eyes seemed to dilate when he saw her.
“I’m Luca. It’s my first day. I’m covering crime. You?”
“I’m a features writer.” Her heart had fluttered, something it never did with men. “Maybe we can get coffee soon.”
By the end of the week, they were at the reporters’ favorite bar down the street from the paper. She was two years older, but he had a calm confidence unlike most guys in their early twenties. Three drinks later, they moved to his car where he pulled her onto his lap. Where she gave him head for the first time. The love she’d felt for him even then seemed like it could engulf her.
It had engulfed her.
A car horn jolted her out of her memory. Annoyed, Annalisa swiped and tapped her phone, reading about Palmira. The island was filled with people and shells and wide, sugar-sand beaches. Four hours from Miami. She looked at a map and then shuddered at the name of the road she needed to take to get there.
Alligator Alley. She hated reptiles.
CHAPTER SIX
Luca woke at dawn and for a brief moment didn’t know where he was. The rooming house in Buenos Aires? The beach hut in Thailand? The yoga ashram in India? He hadn’t stayed long in any one place since leaving Italy. Now that he was on Palmira, his mind hadn’t caught up with his body.
The pre-dawn light cast a gray glow through the windows in the bedroom, bathing the dark pine furniture and the white sheets with a magic hue. His eyes absorbed the light, trying to remember what he had been dreaming about. It was a sexy dream, and the reporter girl was in it. He was awake now, hard with longing.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring his cock, Luca climbed out of bed and went onto the terrace wearing only his boxers. The sun was starting to rise, frosting a few clouds with a pink tint against the pale blue sky. The water of the Gulf of Mexico reflected the colors, making everything look like a dreamy painting. It was his daily slice of happiness, the serenity and beauty of dawn. It gave him hope. Every day since he’d arrived on Palmira he stood on the terrace and soaked in the salty morning air.
Usually the beach was empty, save for a few lone shell-seekers in the morning mist. Today Luca noticed a group of people facing the water, away from him. It was some sort of exercise class. They were on the public beach near the gate that Skylar Shaw had slipped through after the plane crash. He had a good view of the group, and when Luca spotted mats and towels he realized it was a yoga class.
He yawned and stretched. Scratched his bare chest.
“Let’s go into downward dog.”
The small, blonde teacher’s voice wafted up to the terrace. There were about a dozen people in the class, all bending in unison. He watched as the students twisted and turned as if in slow motion. From his high vantage point, Luca could spy on the group with ease, but he guessed they weren’t able to spot him from the ground.
He rubbed his eyes sleepily and admired the round ass and smooth legs of one student in the back row. She stood out because of her stunningly curvy body, and because she was the youngest one in the class by about twenty-five years. Her hair was the same color as Skylar’s, he noticed. Her body was a similar shape, as well. She wore only a black sports bra and tiny black shorts while everyone else was in long spandex pants and baggy T-shirts.
“Okay, turn to the back of your mats and go into warrior two,” the teacher said in a strong voice.
The students were facing Luca now, arms in the air. He zoned in on the half-naked girl with the nice ass.
Oh.
It was Skylar. Her long hair was pulled into a ponytail and her pretty face was flushed and shiny with perspiration. She seemed focused like a laser on the tip of her outstretched right hand.
Was he going to see her every day now? This island was way too small. Or maybe she was teasing him by doing yoga near his house, figuring that he’d see her. He hadn’t noticed the class on previous days, but maybe it was a Saturday-only thing. Last weekend he’d slept in.
Skylar was in good shape. Not rail thin, but toned and womanly. Her sports bra stretched tight across her chest and accentuated her cleavage. She had a perfect hourglass figure; her tiny waist and flat stomach flowed into sexy, wide hips.
Fearing she could see him, he shifted to stand behind a tall potted palm where he could look at her and not be detected. His stomach clenched because he knew he was acting like a pervert and being reduced to spying on this sexy woman made him feel slightly ridiculous, like a teenager; yet it also sent a thrill through his body.
“Face the sea and put your feet in the sand on either side of your mat. Spread your legs wide,” the teacher said.
The class and Skylar turned away from Luca. Her ponytail hung down her back, between her
shoulder blades. Her legs were a wide, upside-down V as her feet burrowed into the sand, and Luca saw that there were no sharp angles anywhere on Skylar’s body, only long, sensuous curves.
Visions of her naked invaded Luca’s thoughts. He fantasized about gripping her ponytail in his hand as he kissed her with fury, imagined her plump mouth open, moaning with pleasure, and this made him adjust himself. He had become hard again as he recalled her sweet-smelling perfume and the way she’d looked at him as he was about to kiss her.
He should take his uncle’s advice and find another woman. Skylar was much smarter and more rational than his usual hookups. Too smart and too rational, which could lead to so many problems. He shook his head and went to go inside, but he couldn’t tear himself from looking at Skylar’s beautiful, bendy body.
The yoga teacher called out more instructions. “Slowly fold over, keeping your back flat. Then move forward from the hips. Breathe.”
Skylar did, folding in half and resting the crown of her head on her mat. Luca stared at her, unblinking, his breathing shallow. Erotic visions tumbled through his mind, one after the other. Christ, she was flexible. Her shorts barely covered her ass, which was high and tight. If only she were here with him, bent over. Was she wearing anything beneath those shorts? He imagined sliding the fabric over her hips and easing his hard length into her. Then there was her sexy mouth, and how she would eagerly suck on his thumb, his fingers, his cock…
A pair of all-too familiar feelings washed over him: loneliness and desire. Luca went into the bedroom, stripped off his shorts and closed the French doors.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Annalisa lay naked on the bed in the hotel room. She had hoped to leave for Palmira that morning but instead drew the curtains and jabbed at the buttons of the air conditioner. The Florida heat sapped her strength, leaving her sweaty, puffy and lazy. She inhaled deeply and, as it often did when she was in bed, her mind went to Luca.