by Lux Miller
Royce pats my shoulder gently. “Oh, honey. There’s heartbreak in every city. You can’t outrun it, you just have to rise above it. Be better than the drama. Besides, they say there’s a fine line between love and hate. The only difference in the feelings is the circumstances.”
***
Luca mirrors my plain, but elegant look with a dressed-down dinner suit. It’s accented by a button down shirt that matches the shade of my dress almost perfectly. The top three buttons are undone and his chiseled chest plays peek-a-boo with every movement he makes. He has forgone a tie or the rigid formality of cuff-links. His jewelry is also toned down from his previous look. He has simple diamond studs in both ears, his ever-present gold chain and a single band that adorns the ring finger of his right hand.
We ride in complete silence to the location of tonight’s charade. Again, we’re tucked into the backseat of Luca’s Mercedes, but while there is only a couple feet of space between our bodies, it feels like a gulf. Luca’s face is focused outside the window as we pull up in front of the fanciest hotel I’ve ever seen. It’s the kind of place where they put chocolates on your pillow and you have to mortgage your house to stay for more than one night. It’s glitz and glamour and completely outside of my comfort zone. Enough that my stomach is full of butterflies as the valet opens my door and helps me out of the car.
Luca steps behind the car to collect me. He’s detached as he slides an arm across my back, resting his hand against my ass. It’s possessive in nature, but as I look up at Luca, I can see that his gaze is faraway. He’s distracted and I quickly realize that he wants to be here about as much as I do. I cringe as the bright flicker of flashbulbs illuminate us. Turning into Luca, I bury my face under his arm. At first, he tenses his body and tries to step away from my needy touch. When he realizes that my thinly-veiled panic is real, he relents and wraps his arm around me tightly. He tugs me hard against him, guiding me around the gaggle of news photographers who have gathered to cover the event.
As we reach the grand entrance of the Windsor Court Hotel, Luca holds the door open for me and ushers me inside away from the prying eyes of the public. He shakes the hand of several important-looking people, including the mayor, while I cling to his side like a piece of saran wrap. Once we reach the end of the receiving line, he leans down and pecks my lips quickly, then pulls away from me as he turns to a man whose presence commands the room. I stand there awkwardly beside him, forcing a smile to appease the stares of the gaggle of well-dressed women who are eyeing me like they want to rip me apart.
Barely fifteen minutes tick by as Luca exchanges pleasantries with the hosts of the event, but it feels like an eternity. When he finally gathers me back into his arms, I’m shaking like a leaf. He leads me into a quiet corner and something surprising flickers across his face - concern. He has me caged into the junction of the walls, but his eyes are watching me intently. I feel a pinched tightness in my chest as I attempt to ground myself from the anxiety that is ricocheting through my body at such a breakneck speed that I feel like I’ve got whiplash.
Luca puts a hand on each of my cheeks and forces me to look at him. “Emily… I’m going to kiss you. People are looking. They’re going to talk if we’re stowing away in the corner for no reason other than hiding from the press. I will try to shield you from them, but you have to give me something to work with here.” My squeak of protest is swallowed by his mouth as he commands my lips. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth without invitation, but I make no moves to shove him away from me. Despite the unwelcome intrusion of his tongue, losing myself in his kiss is less nerve-wracking than the growing crowd of people who keep trying to get a look at me.
When he pulls away, I smack his arm. “You can’t keep doing that, Luca. This is a partnership.” He presses me back against the wall, threading his fingers into my hair. He leans his forehead against mine and lowers his voice to barely a whisper. “And you’re here to make me look good. While I can respect your fears and I will not knowingly push you into something that scares you…” He trails off as he steals yet another kiss, both of his hands on my waist as his lips burn on mine. He stands up and wraps his arm around my waist, leading me back into the crowd of people who have gathered. “...I cannot be seen skulking around the shadows of my own damn hotel.”
The moment we step back into the main foyer, all eyes are on us. I tense slightly as the panic starts to climb my chest again, but his fingers are clutched to my hip. The sharp pain that radiates from his grip on me holds my focus as the dread inside me begins to settle. The hushed whispers in the room grow louder until I can barely hear myself think.
Luca leads me to a high-top table and helps me into my chair before handing me a menu. “It’s going to be a lot of schmoozing and sitting there looking pretty.” I open my mouth to protest his backhanded compliment, but he holds his hand up instead, cutting me off. “It’s a more laid-back version of the last event. People aren’t trying to swindle me out of money. This is about networking for a cause that’s important to me.”
I look up at Luca expectantly, but he quickly shakes his head. “Nevermind. Just… order whatever you want. Drink yourself into oblivion if you must. But you have to wipe that bored and uninterested expression off your face.” I swallow and take a deep breath as a young waiter approaches us apprehensively, asking if he can take our order. Staring at Luca, I order myself a whiskey neat and a plate of hot wings. He quirks one eyebrow up, but doesn’t smile. He nods at the waiter. “Same, but I’ll take a Coke instead of the whiskey. Make the wings nuclear. Mine, not hers. I don’t think she’d appreciate having her tongue burned off.”
The waiter disappears without a word. I cross my arms over my chest and level my eyes at Luca. “You know, I could have handled the nuclear wings.” Luca shrugs and motions to the kitchen. “Then eat mine. Whatever.” He walks off before I can protest and I’m left sitting here wondering when the uncomfortable awkwardness between us will subside. I can’t handle another two and a half months pretending to be his girlfriend if we can barely stand to be in the same room together.
Ten minutes later, the waiter comes back with a tray full of hot wings, a bowl of ranch dip, an assortment of celery and carrots, and both of our drinks. He gives me a quick bow, then disappears, leaving me alone in the deserted dining room with a feast of misery. The minutes tick by painstakingly slowly as Luca works the room. Occasionally, he’ll turn his head in my direction, his hands waving in the air as he speaks with a litany of suited men and women. He’s in his element and seems completely at ease. Until his gaze locks on me. His body language stiffens as he’s peppered with questions. Some of the people even point in my direction inquisitively.
Minutes tick away into hours. I have devoured my plate of wings and drank both the whiskey neat I ordered and the Coke he ordered. His plate of wings sits untouched, cold as steel. The waiter stops by the table for the tenth time in the last half hour, asking if I’m sure I’m okay. I nod and wave him off again. “I’m fine, really. Just… feeling a bit off tonight. Thank you.”
The waiter nods and disappears into the kitchen. I’m the only person in the restaurant right now, so he has no reason to hang around. Finally, I push the plates away from me and scoot off the stool, then wander out into the waning crowd. There are still dozens of people milling about, but the vast majority have left the schmooze-fest. I approach him silently as he speaks with someone I recognize as the president of one of the local colleges.
Without even acknowledging my presence, he loops his muscled arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. Before I can protest, he leans down and captures my lips in a tender kiss that comes out of nowhere. It’s short, simple, and surprisingly sweet. He pulls away as quickly as he stole the kiss and continues his conversation. Within minutes, their discussion has ended and the college president has walked off to speak to someone else.
Clearing my throat, I slide my hand across his stomach, resting my fingers in between the button of his shirts,
my fingertips brushing over the smooth, taut skin underneath. He inhales a sharp breath, shivering. I instantly pull my hand away. “Sorry. My hands get cold easily.”
He shakes his head and turns to face me, grabbing both of my hands between his and rubbing them together. “I’m the one who should be sorry. For being a jerk. Thank you for coming with me tonight.”
I’m sure my face is twisted in surprise as he watches my face curiously. “Did you eat the spicy ones?”
I shake my head sadly. “You were right. I can’t handle something that spicy without a lot of alcohol and since, well… we tend to end up fighting or getting dangerously close to fucking when we drink, I thought it best to stop myself at one.”
Luca nods. “Did you get enough?”
I shrug, then nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. But you didn’t eat…”
Luca shrugs. “I wasn’t that hungry honestly. Besides, it'll be donated to the homeless veteran that literally lives behind the hotel. He’s a good guy. And I make sure I over-order every time I come here.”
I gasp softly as I realize that the bill hasn’t been paid. “Luca… the bill…”
Chuckling, Luca smiles. “It’s taken care of. Let’s go before the urge to grab a drink gets overwhelming.”
I grab his hand gently and ask, “Have you really not had a drink...since…?”
Luca nods. “Not one.”
Motioning to the bar, I suggest, “Then why don’t you have a small one?”
Luca shakes his head vehemently. “One leads to two, two leads to three and three leads to me attempting to do to you what I’ve wanted to for a week now... “
My heart thunders in my chest as my gaze snaps to his. He leads me outside and assists me into the back of his Mercedes. Once he slides in beside me, I lower my voice. “So… since we first met, you’ve want to do a lot of things to me… a week ago, you wanted me dead and ever since, it seems you’ve wanted me in your bed...”
Luca leans over me, pressing my back against the side of the car as his lips hover over mine, “Despite your infuriating stubbornness, despite the fact that you drive me to the brink of my sanity, and despite my father’s continued insistence that you'll be my undoing… I’ve never wanted you dead…”
ELEVEN
The next morning is awkwardly quiet as Dante and I sit across from one another at the bar in the kitchen, silently sipping lukewarm coffee and picking at an assortment of donuts left behind by the night’s security crew. There’s not much selection left over, but it beats attempting to cook something in the stifling heat. Every room has a fan blowing on full-blast and the house’s central air-conditioning system hasn’t turned off once. Despite the efforts to cool the living spaces, it’s miserably muggy everywhere. That’s late September in New Orleans for you, though. Wet and hot.
I wrinkle my nose as I take a bite of donut, tossing it down onto the napkin I set out for my breakfast. “Ugh, raspberry. Gross!”
Dante snorts across from me, glancing up from his coffee to look at my horrified expression. He tilts his head to the side and motions to the donut. “What did that donut do to you?”
I point at it accusingly. “It’s raspberry. Why would anybody want to bite into a donut loaded with seeds and sickeningly sweet jam that tastes like it’s gone rancid? Out of all the possible fillings for a donut, who on Earth would willingly choose raspberry?”
Dante tilts his head back and howls with laughter as another male voice interrupts my complaining. “I would.” I glance up quickly to see Mike walking into the kitchen. He walks over to the counter and swipes the donut with the bite mark. “They’re my favorite… nasty little seeds and all.” His words are laced with humor, but his expression and tone are not. I look up at his face, startled. “Where’s Luca?”
He drops a newspaper onto the counter in front of me. “He’s trying to fix a problem.” The black and white pages lie there in silence, but the headline splashed across the front page screams danger. My chest tightens with dread as I read it out loud. “Trouble In Paradise? Luca Barresi and Mystery Woman Distant at Barresi Fundraiser.”
I snatch the newspaper up into my rooms with a screech, “What?!? I didn’t think things were that bad last night!” I brush my fingertips over the picture of Luca and I arguing. He looks exasperated and I look flippantly bored. Sure, things were awkward between us last night, but I thought we’d still managed to pull it off. We’d kissed several times, there were numerous small gestures of affection, and we’d kept most of our arguing to the privacy of the restaurant or the backseat of his car.
Mike shrugs as he walks to the refrigerator. He digs through it and comes out with a carton of orange juice. He pours himself a glass and sets the rest of the carton of the counter as he takes a big swig from his glass. “Boss didn’t seem to think it went over too well.” Grumbling, I cross my arms over my chest. “Of course, nobody catches the good parts. They just see the awkward parts and make up whatever story they want.”
Nodding, Mike steps back over to me, looking over my shoulder. “Mushy love stories rarely sell newspapers unless there’s fire and passion. Wishy-washy ones aren’t compelling enough to even get coverage. The public wants to read about torrid affairs and knights in armor sweeping a princess off her feet. What the two of you are attempting to sell is a messy hodge-podge of all of the above, but you’re putting out mixed signals. And after last night’s performance… the public is calling bullshit.”
He steps out of the room and I turn to Dante. “I thought we did okay?” Dante bounces one shoulder. “Apparently not. Luca left hours ago to talk to the Boss. I’m going to guess it has something to do with this newspaper article. Bad press is worse than no press and those kinds of stories aren’t going to help Luca’s public image.”
The residents of this city have allowed the mafia to operate under their noses because our Father is a strong leader. Relentless and ruthless, but generous to the public in donations. What the public sees is that the mafia picks up the slack of the NOPD and returns their swindled money to them. The public at large doesn’t understand that the relative peace they enjoy is because of murder, racketeering, and intimidation. And they don’t care. They latch onto strong leaders with stronger convictions.”
I shake my head slowly, trying to process the information. “The public seems to love Luca. He’s like a celebrity here.”
Dante smiles as he finishes his coffee. “His inability to commit to one woman keeps the public from truly embracing him. He's the unspoken heir to the throne of New Orleans, but the public will never accept him as their king without a queen. A single leader with no ties to the mortal world is a dangerous thing. He has nothing to live for, so he has nothing to lose.”
I flinch, suddenly understanding my part in this. “This goes beyond repairing a playboy reputation, doesn’t it?”
Dante stands up and drops his coffee mug into the sink with a shrug. “You were never part of the plan, Emily. There was always a plan in place, mind you. But you weren’t the girl who was supposed to be tasked with salvaging his floundering reputation.”
Realization slaps me in the face at a hundred miles an hour. “Shit… that’s why she was shooting daggers at me that morning. Well, besides the fact that I said she sounded like a pig squealing. Luca was supposed to be playing this game with Amber.”
Dante glances over his shoulder with a smirk. “You know, you’re pretty perceptive. They’ve known each other for a decade. They’ve always had this tempestuous relationship, but Luca was willing to take a chance on going public with her. To be honest, it would have been a complete disaster, but at least he showed physical attraction to her. Without that initial chemistry, anything he attempted to showcase to the public would have fallen flat.
“Luca may be an asshole that fucks anything with breasts, but Amber has been the only one he’s ever shown passion with. Most of the time, his conquests are one and done. There’s just no passion for him. Without passion, all you have is carnal pleasure. Anybody can
fuck and it will still feel good physically. Passion is what lights the spark and keeps you coming back for more… even if most of that passion is pure hatred. Amber and Luca had passion and there were no other options until…”
My eyes widen as Dante nudges my side. I shake my head with a laugh, red creeping up into my cheeks. “Dante! He held a gun to my head! What was I was supposed to do? Roll over and fly my white flag?”
Nodding, Dante leans down and whispers in my ear, “That’s what most people would have done. You fought back. You mouthed off to him. You lit a fire inside him. That fire is what saved you from his infallible sense of duty. Because you made a cold, hard man feel something…”
I sigh softly and shake my head, pushing away the thoughts fizzing through my brain. I can’t think right now and everything is fuzzy with unwanted ‘what-if’ thoughts. I push away from the bar and point upstairs. “I’m going to change and go swimming. It’s hotter than a quarterback’s balls in the house and I have a lot of steam to blow off.”