by SJ Molloy
“Fuck. No, it is not related to that. I wish you would have told me. I would rather those documents be kept private.” He’s not impressed.
“I’m sorry, but they were at the top of the drawer. I didn’t deliberately go snooping. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me. It’s your business and I love that you’re passionate and generous. I just thought maybe it was the same thing.” I stop sorting through my makeup because of the fallen silence. I’m worried I’ve overstepped the mark.
“Lucca?”
I hear him sigh then clear his throat before continuing. “No, it is not the same thing, and it is not okay, Doc. I am sorry for snapping at you. You have done nothing wrong. Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course I am.” I yawn. “I’m just really tired now. It’s been an eventful few days.” I don’t press talking about the cancer because he is sensitive about something, and I have hit a raw nerve. He will tell me when he is good and ready.
“It certainly has. Stay on the phone with me and I will talk to you until you go to sleep.”
“I should get back to Lucy. Mind you, she’s with Cameron and they need to clean the slate. They will be having a chat,” I mutter through another huge yawn. I decide they need time alone and I am very tired, so bed wins.
I strip down to my lingerie, pull the covers back, and slide in bed. I reach my arm across his pillow and imagine he’s snuggled in beside me.
“Tell me all about your property developments and how your meetings have been going. I’m still here, but if I go quiet, I’ve fallen asleep. So I’ll tell you I love you now. I’ll dream of you.”
My eyes are already closed, but I’m still aware of Lucca’s husky voice and breathing, as if he were right here beside me.
I’m startled in the early morning when Lucy sits on the edge of the bed and rubs my arm.
“Hey, sleepy,” she says, looking refreshed, perky, and far too glamorous for this time of morning.
“Hey. Oh my gosh, Lucy, I’m sorry. I was exhausted and fell asleep. I missed our DBB. We never got a chance to cosy in bed and talk.”
“Don’t be. Cameron and I watched the rest of the movie then had a long chat and cleared the air, and I was really tired as well.”
“You never … did you?” I gingerly ask and lift my eyebrows.
“No, we didn’t sleep together, but we did fall asleep on the sofa. When he woke me up, he went into one of the spare rooms and I slipped in beside you. This house is amazing. It’s absolutely beautiful. I wish I’d brought my swimsuit.”
“Thank you. Bring it tonight.”
“I need to go to work, darlin’, but I’ll be back tonight. I’ll inform the girls that they need to break through the Royal Guards. Though I’m sure Hazel will find it very exciting.” She winks and brushes her hand down my arm.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about them,” I grumble.
“Tell Rose thank you for dinner and for the packed lunch she left in the fridge. She’s so sweet.”
“I will. She is very sweet. Will you be seeing the handsome Marco da Vinci in the future?” I need to ask her before she goes because I’m interested on how it went.
She smiles with those big luscious red lips. “Maybe, let’s wait and see.” She kisses my cheek and then she’s off.
She will.
I know it.
Chapter 25
Pamper night
Wednesday goes by very quickly. My ankle is much better today after Mark worked on it. I apply some bruise cream and notice I can already put more pressure on it. I meet Rachel for lunch in Bothwell at the usual place, Bistro & Bake, and explain everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. I try to ignore Lloyd looking conspicuous sitting in the black SUV outside the restaurant, but it’s difficult to do, especially since we have a table outside. He’s watching my every move, and I try not to draw attention to my babysitter.
I tell her I’m sorry that she and Cameron have split up, and she says it was for the best. She’s travelling again, and the long distance relationship never worked for them before. She mutters something about history and heartache then changes the subject very quickly to avert my attention, but it’s not lost on me.
History.
Fucking history.
And I thought my life was complicated. Seems Cameron has his fair share of deep secrets and entangled mess.
I’m happy that Rachel and I can keep our friendship and would love to see her before she heads off to ski the French Alps. I wait until she leaves before Lloyd opens the door for me and then have him take me back home to pick Doris up.
I take her to the vet for her check-up then to Mr. Carlin’s. Doris makes light work tearing through his loafers. Again.
Oh shit!
It’s only ever Mr. Carlin’s shoes she seems to attack. I think it’s because she knows it infuriates him, either that or because she likes him. Lloyd takes us to the doctor’s for Mr. Carlin’s appointment but thankfully stays in the car. Then we pick up his prescriptions and stop to have tea in the coffee shop attached to the church.
I pick up some cards from the craft shop and some food shopping for Mr. Carlin then take him home and offer to make his dinner. He refuses as Julie, his home help, is due in and will take care of it. I miss doing these little things for him, although I’m thankful I did get to spend time with him today.
When we return home, I thank Lloyd for his help today. He nods, maintaining professionalism, but I see his lips form a smile. Doris growls then protectively sits next to Devon’s feet. She’s not wagging her tail and has the blinkers on again.
She’s guarding over him, not me. She doesn’t trust him …
“Miss Robertson. Flowers, mail, and a parcel arrived for you today. I’m sorry I had to open them, it’s protocol. They’re on your dining room table,” Devon says.
“Oh, um … okay.”
Definitely not okay. Far from it.
I walk to the kitchen grinding my teeth in anger. It could be lingerie from Lucca and he’s going through my private mail and parcels. Fury twists up a storm in my stomach. They are neatly piled where he said they’d be.
The flowers are white, no blue in sight, so I know they’re not from Lucca. I read the card curiously.
‘Alexis,
Something to wish you well. I hope you are making a speedy recovery with your ankle sprain and taking it easy. It was lovely to see you again even under such unfortunate circumstances. J x’
Oh my God, they’re from Jackson. Lucca will not be amused. The mail is all general, and the parcel is the course work I left behind at the clinic with a note from Mark.
I call Lucca but it goes to voicemail, so I leave a terse message asking why Men in Black are opening my mail.
To alleviate some frustration, I hit the gym for an hour, working on my core and doing some conditioning work, then have a hot shower and dress in clean yoga pants and a grey cotton tank top since it’s pamper night.
I have six missed calls from Lucca, so I call him back. “Hey, I tried to call you.”
“Sorry, I had no reception. I am in Milan now.”
My heart flutters.
Agitated?
Yes.
Jealous?
Very.
I pick some dry skin from my palms. “Is Fran with you?” I know she is, so why even ask?
“Yes.”
“How is she?” I ask with sincerity, as I do hope she’s making a good recovery after her failed suicide attempt in Tuscany.
“She is doing very well. I am looking at properties tomorrow, some mine, some not, but they could potentially accommodate her business. And I am meeting Giorgio. He’s in the city on Luminara business.” He still has his business voice on, so I know his intentions are purely professional. I just hope Fran has the same idea.
Business … not pleasure.
“Where are you staying in Milan?” I chew the inside of my cheek.
I’m secretly praying he’s not staying with Fran. It makes me extremely uncomfortabl
e, considering their history, not to mention I would be envious. I do like her, and I shared an empathetic bond with her, recognising her grief and how fragile she is, but I draw the line at Lucca staying with her.
“We are having dinner tonight with Giorgio, and then I will go back to the hotel where I am staying.”
“Okay, good. I don’t know that I’d be okay with you staying with her.” Why did I have to speak out loud? My bloody thoughts need to get filed, not voiced.
“You have nothing to worry about. I am yours and always will be. Fran has done nothing but sing your praises. She is having fashion design samples sent over to you and would like us both to visit her when we are back in Italy. I think she is being very amicable considering.”
This just reiterates what a warm, kind, decent woman she actually is. Maybe it would be better if she weren’t so nice. “That’s very kind of her. Send her my regards.”
Deadpan.
“What is wrong dolcezza?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
I was handling his trip away, and I knew that ultimately he would be spending time with Fran, but suddenly I’m green with envy and regret my decision not to have gone with him.
“You are a terrible liar. I hear Jackson has sent you flowers. I am unnerved by it. I think I will be having words with our local womanising celebrity when I return.”
Stop changing the subject!
“Don’t overreact. It’s only flowers to wish me well because I had an accident. Now we’re on the subject, I’m not happy with Lloyd and Devon opening my mail. That’s why I was trying to call you,” I protest.
He sighs. “I am sorry, it is not forever, but it is just how it needs to be now.”
I need to make my point clear because it is indeed unacceptable, and Lucca is deluding himself if he thinks otherwise. “I feel like my privacy has been violated. I don’t want them going through my things.”
“It is only until I come home, then I will open everything. Baby, it is only two more days.”
“No one should have to open my mail, Lucca. I can do it myself.”
“I know you can, it is just until this Kimberley ordeal passes. We know how malicious she can be. I would hate for you to open anything unsavoury.”
“Okay … I suppose.” I lean over and smell the blue flower arrangement Lucca left for me then sigh.
“I need to go, dolcezza, we have a dinner reservation. Make sure you girls enjoy your evening. I will call you later before bed. Who is staying tonight?”
It’s killing me knowing Lucca is going to dinner with his ex-fiancée, the mother of his deceased son, his childhood sweetheart. I’m struggling to be composed because I’m already imagining the worst.
“Hazel’s staying.” I worry my fingers against my lips.
“Are you upset because I’m having dinner with Fran?”
He’s so intuitive.
Damn!
“Yes, a little,” I whisper.
“It is just dinner so there is nothing for you to be worried about,” he says sincerely.
“Hmmm ...”
“If you do not want me to go, I will cancel.”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to be that type of person. I trust you, I’m just …”
He loses reception and the line goes dead. I try calling him back, but it’s switched off. It leaves me uneasy, but I know he’ll call when he can.
And I do trust him. I hope I can trust Fran as well.
Throwing myself on the bed, I try very hard to erase all negative thoughts from my mind. I intend to close my eyes for ten minutes, which actually elapses to nearly an hour.
Downstairs, Rose introduces me to six pristine female beauty therapists who have been hired by Lucca—three from the spa at his Lanarkshire club and three from his Glasgow club. They have brought all their equipment and have set up in the indoor pool area with individual bamboo screens separating six beauty beds.
The area has been transformed into a tranquil, sweet smelling haven of exotic lotus blossom, sandalwood, and passion flower. There are candles everywhere, floating candles in the pool, the mood lighting is on with some little fairy lights, and all sorts of professional products lined up. Each bed has a white robe folded on the end, white slippers, and a gift bag filled with products and makeup for each of us.
The girls will love this. Lucca does think of everything. I’m extremely grateful.
After a commotion bypassing the Men in Black, the girls all arrive together. Samantha is really impressed with the house and décor; she’s speechless even in the hallway, which reminds me of the first time I stepped foot in here. I’m used to it now, but I recall my first impressions. Overwhelmed.
“Bloody hell, Roo, it’s easier getting into Buckingham Palace than in here. Lucca has taken your break-in very seriously, which is good, but did he really have to get the Royal Guards?” Hazel gripes, giving me a huge cuddle.
I shrug. “He doesn’t do things by half.”
“Um … no he certainly doesn’t,” she says, tapping her middle finger on her chin.
I ask Hazel to give Sam and Carrie the tour while Devon shows Harriet, my hairdresser, in after asking for appropriate identification and searching her kit bag.
Really? As if my hairdresser carries weapons in a bag with pink rollers and plans to take me out with a hair pin. Honestly, this ludicrous behaviour is wearing thin.
The girls all squeal with delight when they see the pool deck set up for the pampering and take pleasure in their little bag of treats. I know I should be a little more enthused as Lucca has put a lot of consideration and arrangements into this evening, but I’m too preoccupied wondering how his dinner date with Fran is going.
The house is buzzing because Lloyd also brings in some catering staff and a cocktail waiter who work at Luminara—Lucca’s club, bar, and restaurant—after the routine checks. Devon remains outside while Lloyd stays inside keeping watch on the extra hired staff. Hazel strops because Devon’s Irish accent’s growing on her.
Bloody horny flirt!
“Oh my God, we have a cocktail waiter. Girls, I wonder if he serves frozen margaritas in the buff? The Royal Guards could be the male strippers; going by the way they wear those suits.” Hazel smirks. The girls laugh and I dismiss her impishness while I show the staff where to set up in the kitchen.
After introductions and completing health questionnaires, our individual beauty therapists give us the robes and a folder with a schedule and list of treatments we can have. We sit on the loungers next to the pool sipping strawberry daiquiris, gossiping, and nibbling on delicious canapés.
We’ve been appointed ninety minutes of treatments before dinner, then an additional ninety minutes of treatments, and maybe a dip in the pool if we have time.
We finish a second cocktail, a peach mojito, and another round of canapés before running through our choices with our therapist. I’m not comfortable with other people massaging my body, unless it’s Lucca. I ask for an Indian head massage—hoping it will relieve some of my stress—an exotic moisture dew facial, and a full leg, underarm, and bikini wax too.
We’re given jugs of iced lemon water in preparation and are then taken to our individual areas. The lights are dimmed as tranquil music plays. Samantha has to warn Hazel to keep quiet so that we can all relax. I chuckle, knowing it’s going to be a challenge for her. All I can hear is her asking the therapist questions about cellulite, collagen, and laser treatments.
It’s only a matter of minutes before everyone is drugged, deep in the heady trance of relaxation.
No sound from Hazel. Results, she’s been tranquilised!
I have so many things going through my mind it’s taking me a little longer to relax. I’m stiff and tense to begin with until the charming Dana triggers essential pressure points allowing my head to fall heavily until I feel light.
Inhaling the sweet tropical scent of mangos, nectarine, and papaya, I think of Lucca’s exotic smelling skin mixed with the sexy masculine fusion of
his aftershave, causing an unsettling pain in my stomach—worry.
Over dinner in the dining room, we are given lots more water to rehydrate us, but we do have some Kir Royals with our three course à la carte Italian-inspired meal. Everyone is thoroughly relaxed with fresh glowing skin, wrapped under their robes, feeling very soothed and pampered.
“Girls, I don’t know about you, but I feel horny as hell. It’s seriously turning me on. That chick has got magic hands,” Hazel says discreetly with the look of mischief, the look where she raises her eyebrow and smirks impishly.
Choking, I spray my drink everywhere, holding my hand to my mouth in complete shock.
“She’s a dirty bloody minx,” Samantha says, chuckling.
Carrie is very quiet. It never occurred to us that she would find it pleasurably erotic, but of course, being gay she might.
“Carrie, don’t you go slipping the hand,” Hazel remarks, causing everyone to laugh. Carrie shakes her head, but I can tell she’s amused at Hazel’s sense of humour under her heated, rosy cheeks. She says Nicole is the only girl who does it for her, and we all roll our eyes, smiling.
“I bet you two are kinky fuckers in bed,” Hazel adds. Now Carrie is turning flame red. Hazel is a liability with that sassy, smart mouth. I wish she’d zip it.
Harriet adjusts a chair for me; I don’t even have to give her any direction for my haircut. She does what she always does and knows best. Dana works on my fingernails, giving them a manicure, and pedicure to my toes. Once Harriet has finished my cut, Dana waxes and tints my eyebrows and eyelashes.
I can’t believe the difference. My eyelashes are much more prominent now that they are darker. Not as dark and bushy as Lucca’s, but still it’s a great improvement.
“Are you going back in the pool?” Harriet asks.
“Yes, probably. Why, what’s up?”
“Nothing, I won’t dry your hair then. You can style it yourself after you wash it. Not that you need to because, you know, it’s going to dry naturally in a bounce of sexy waves. You have the best hair, Lexi. You’re very lucky.”