L'amore: The Luminara Series

by SJ Molloy

  I thank her profusely and offer her champagne, but she refuses as she has to drive. She does however leave me some quality hair products.

  We all change into swimwear once the therapists and catering staff are packed up. They’re escorted by Lloyd, and then he does another sweep of the house, switching positions with Devon, leaving only the cocktail waiter, whom we’ve learned is called Mack since Hazel made a point of flirting with him.

  Mack makes us another two cocktails each then retires for the evening. Once he’s left, Lloyd advises he will run any of the girls home while Devon stays on watch. Men in Black are not so bad after all, either that or I’m getting very tipsy and more tolerant.

  The girls go into the pool and sauna while I sit in the kitchen and call Lucca to thank him for tonight. No answer, so I leave a voicemail. Smiling when I see Lucca’s name light up on my phone screen, I answer quickly.

  “Hey, honey.”

  “Lexi, it is Francesca,” she says in her sexy, Italian-English. The hairs on my arms prick up as does my upper body in my chair.

  “Hi, Fran, is everything alright? Where’s Lucca?” I ask anxiously.

  “Yes, everything is fine. Lucca has fallen asleep. He had some wine at dinner and scotch afterwards. He insisted I get home okay so he had his driver bring me back and showed me upstairs to my penthouse but then passed out, so I am letting him sleep it off. Giorgio had to leave early and attend to business so I cannot call him to come and get him.” Rage burns in the deepest dark cave of my stomach.

  Fuck!

  File F for fiancé stealer. This is what I was afraid of.

  “He’s staying there, with you?” I try to mask the distaste I’m feeling for that arrangement.

  “Yes, I cannot very well send him back to the hotel like this. You have nothing to worry about. I am not drinking because of my medication, and I will take good care of him.”

  No, please don’t. I don’t want you to.

  That has just made me feel worse. I now feel queasy and sick.

  “Why is he drinking whiskey? What’s happened? Why is he getting trashed? Something’s up.” I feel agitated and nervous and so helpless not being there with him.

  “He has had a challenging few days with the business. I am sure it was not intentional. Just fatigue and stress,” she reassures.

  This sounds plausible, but he knows how I feel about abusive drinking, and about him staying with Fran. It must be bad for him to lose control like this.

  “Can I speak with him, Fran?” I choke.

  “I can hold the phone to him, but he is slurring his words, so he will not make much sense.”

  “Where is he sleeping?” It is direct and rude, but I need to know. The hairs on my neck and back stand erect, and I’m stinging with needle like pricks to my skin. I’m edgy.

  “In my bed. I will take the single in the spare room. Lexi, you have nothing to worry about because he loves you. He is just very drunk,” she assures me.

  “I’m sorry. I know, it’s just … can I try and speak to him?” I swallow a huge lump in my throat. This is tearing me to shreds. I want to look after him, to be there for him.

  “Okay, hold on.” I hear her muffled sounds and then Fran speaking quickly, all in Italian which I can’t decipher. “I am not promising, but I will put the phone to his ear.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Lucca, Lucca, it’s me. Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

  I hear groaning then a series of slurred words. “Le … x ... ba … y ... are you rea … l? Are you ali … ve?”

  “What? Of course, I am. What are you going on about?”

  “He will not ta … ke you ever. I will not let … it … hap …” A low growl emits from him.

  Is he talking about Jackson? Why on earth would he get drunk because he thinks I’m being seduced by another guy? Is he trying to get me back by staying with Fran? Well, if he’s trying to hurt me, he’s succeeding.

  “No one is taking me. Why did you get drunk, Lucca?” I soften my tone.

  “I will die firs-s-st. She nearly killed me, but you will. You will kill … me because you t-t-tear-r-r me apart, I pro … tect you … uu, but he needs to kill me firs-s-s-t. Do you hear … r-r-r?”

  Pain.

  “Stop it! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He’s upsetting me and scaring me with his words.

  “Yes-s-s … I lov-v-vedd her, she left … you … not leavin’,” he babbles incoherently.

  A sharp knife is severing through my chest and tearing at my heart because the pain is acute and incisive.

  Torn.

  Shredded.

  Lacerated.

  I could bleed right here, alone and agonised. Closing my eyes, I imagine the sharp knife tip tapping slowly before it punctures right through my heart to stop it from beating.

  It’s not until I’m forced to breathe that I realise I’ve been holding my breath.

  Gasping.

  Air.

  Gasping.

  Air.

  Pain.

  Pain.

  Air.

  Disconnecting the call, I switch my phone off and put my face in my hands. Crying for the next five minutes, feeling totally crushed and wishing I had never spoken to him and glad Rose isn’t privy to yet another breakdown. I freshen up, trying to maintain my composure, pour myself a large glass of water, and take a new, unopened bottle of champagne through to the pool for the girls.

  I place it down for them then go into the steam room, hoping that it will help mask my teary cheeks, and it does. I manage to pass it off, although my stomach is in turmoil. Afterward, I stand under the freezing cold shower, trying to numb the burning fire scalding my heart.

  It’s well after midnight and we’re still sitting in the Jacuzzi. Impulsively, I say something I know later I will regret. “Girls, do you want to go out tomorrow night in town? The way we used to on a Thursday, to a nice bar … just us?”

  “Yes, I’ll drink to that. Chin-chin!” Sam and Carrie sing together, clinking their glasses.

  Hazel’s eyes light up with excitement. “What about the Royal Guards? Won’t be much fun with them lurking over us.”

  She’s right. We can’t sneeze without them making a move, and it wouldn’t be a girls’ night with them hovering.

  “I need a plan to sneak away from them for a night. I can’t breathe when they’re around,” I reply.

  “Okay, I have an idea. Let’s say we’re all going to Jessica’s. Get them to drop you off. We’ll keep the blinds closed and the music up so they think we are there. Then we’ll call a taxi and sneak out the back door. They won’t see from the front, and we’ll use the back road.” Hazel sounds like an international spy, tapping her middle finger on her chin.

  Such a drama queen.

  She has us huddled together and whispering, even though Lloyd and Devon are not in the pool area, and we’re foolishly butting our heads together, looking over our shoulders as if we’ve been assigned a secret mission.

  We high five on it. Then the girls towel dry and wrap their robes over their pyjamas as they gather all their items. Merrily drunk, they stagger out dressed in their sleepwear and have Lloyd drive them home.

  He’s getting a treat tonight. I bet he loves his job now!

  Limping into the bedroom, I find Hazel standing nude next to my bed. “Eh, what you up to?”

  “I’m going to bed.” She shrugs her shoulders and topples over against the bed.

  “Not like that. Get some underwear or pyjamas on. I don’t want you slipping the hand with me after feeling all horny tonight.” We both burst out laughing at her brassiness. I throw her a T-shirt, which she fumbles into, and we collapse in bed. We are too tired and past it for the DBB chat tonight. I don’t tell her about my phone call with Lucca, but I’m comforted when she wraps her arms around me, and we fall fast asleep.

  “Oh God, my head is pounding,” Hazel says.

  “Get your legs off me, blooming pest.” I push her off me
, freeing and stretching my hot cramped legs.

  “Oh God, I feel awful,” she groans, throwing her arm across her head.

  “Well, you should have drank water before you went to bed.” I can’t hold my laughter. She looks as if she has been electrocuted when she allows her hair to dry naturally.

  She pulls a pillow over her head and groans. “Lexi, go and get painkillers, or better still, ask your Royal Guards to bring them up.”

  Shaking my head, I shuffle to the bathroom and get painkillers and water for us both. “They’re not bloody servants,” I reprimand.

  “Whatever, I need to sleep this off if we’re back on it tonight. My body is a temple after all.” She groans from under a pillow.

  Oh hell, I was hoping she’d forget about tonight. “Maybe we should leave it, especially if everyone has a hangover.”

  Hazel tosses the pillow and stares at me. “No way. It was your idea, and you look as if you need cheering up. I know you were crying last night. Are you going to tell me what’s it about?”

  Like Lucca, she is so observant.

  I tell her what happened, every part that I remember from the phone call. She says I’m over reacting; he was probably just drunk and rambling and then she cuddles and comforts me. Nothing a night out with the girls can’t cure. We fall back asleep after she thinks she’s convinced me it’s nothing to worry about, but the reality is I am worried about it.

  Very much so.

  Rose knocks on the bedroom door a little after one in the afternoon. “Sorry to interrupt, Lexi, but Lucca has been trying to call you. He has asked you call him immediately.”

  “Okay, Rose. Thank you.” I won’t be calling him anytime soon. I’m pissed and letting him stew.

  “I’ve made lunch. French toast BLT club sandwiches. Do you want to come down or shall I bring it up?” Hazel yawns and sits up in bed smiling at Rose.

  “We were going to lounge in bed a little longer if that is all right?” I honestly do love this woman.

  “Yes, of course, I’ll bring it up. Did you enjoy your night?”

  “It was a lovely night, thank you.”

  She returns with a tray of fresh orange juice and fruit, a yogurt, and stacked French toast with bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo. I kiss her on the cheek to thank her. She truly is a keeper.

  “It’s like being on holiday. You’re so lucky. Hotel, motel, Holiday Inn,” Hazel chants before she scoffs into her sandwich. “Oh God, we’ll be in a carb coma with this later but it will definitely help my hangover.”

  I pick at my food and then fall asleep again when Hazel is in the shower. “You could sleep standing up, do you know that?”

  Yawning, I have to agree I’ve been exceptionally tired lately. It must be all the stress. Hazel studies me and sighs and says I do look exceptionally tired and that she’s worried about me. I convince her it is just all the late nights and drama this week.

  Once we’re up and dressed, Rose lets me know that Peter has taken Doris out on a walk for me. I decide to go with Hazel to my old house for some normalcy and check in on Mr. Carlin. Lloyd is waiting by the car, talking into a device with an earpiece in.

  “Miss Robertson, Mr. Caruso would like to speak with you,” Lloyd says.

  I’m sure he would.

  I slip my Chopard sunglasses over my tired eyes, deterring the rolling of said tired eyes.

  “Please, Lloyd, call me Lexi and tell him I’ll call him later. I’m riding with Hazel.”

  He clears his throat and clenches his jaw. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you do that,” he firmly says.

  I hold my hand up directly in front of his peripheral vision. “I’m going with Hazel.” I don’t back down either. I’m not in the mood to be controlled right now. I’ve made a choice and I’m sticking with it.

  His stern look tells me he objects as he mutters something into the device. Devon takes Lloyd’s position as I shamble into Hazel’s car. Of course, Lloyd follows us closely in his black SUV and will be infuriated, no doubt, at my lack of cooperation.

  Oh please!

  I’m greeted by Cameron on his way out to work, only to get a scolding for not going in the car with Lloyd. Like Lloyd, I ignore Cameron, along with his nagging me to call Lucca which gets filed in compartment – Later!

  Fuck!

  File I for ignoring. Ignoring Lucca’s persistent pleas. Ignoring Cameron’s brotherly bossiness.

  Ignored!

  Cameron actually looks very tired as if he’s not had any sleep. Anna has likely been keeping him busy.

  Don’t care.

  Can’t care.

  No care.

  Not today anyway.

  Chapter 26

  Truth!

  After almost overheating in Mr. Carlin’s for over an hour, I return to my house and go back to my old bedroom, close the door, and slide under the covers falling asleep again. Lloyd is still outside and no doubt expecting me, but I never asked for this security, and I want time alone.

  In my own bed.

  In my own house.

  Me … alone.

  “Lexi, wake up. You’ve been sleeping all bloody day. Lucca has been phoning everyone. I’ve had to send Lloyd away three times telling him you don’t want to be disturbed, but if you don’t get up and check in, he’ll come up here.” Hazel sits on my bed waving her hand about.

  “What? Who? What are you rambling about?” I’m so disoriented being awakened so abruptly.

  “Lloyd, you idiot. He’s going to come up; Lucca is going batshit fucking crazy with worry.”

  Of course he is.

  “Yeah, just like I went crazy with worry last night. What time is it?” I’m in such an ornery mood.

  “It’s 5:30 p.m. You need to make yourself seen so our escape plan works later.” She holds her hand out for me to get moving. Sighing, I drag my ass out of bed, much against my will.

  “I’ll meet you at Jess’s at 7:30 p.m. sharp. Bring a change of clothes so they don’t get suspicious if you’re dolled up. Taxi is booked for 8:00 p.m. Fine?”

  “Fine. I can’t believe I’m going along with this. It’s outrageous.” But then I can’t believe Lucca stayed at Fran’s last night and said some of those things and part of me wants to retaliate and make a choice, a choice to go out—let my hair down, and forget about Lucca’s words and Fran being with him.

  “Yes and so are we … outrageous, now move.” She smacks my ass as I hobble downstairs.

  “Miss Robertson, I was just about to look for you, everything alright?” Lloyd addresses me at the bottom of the stairs. Hazel shoots the “I told you so” look at me.

  “Yes, no need. I was sleeping. Can you take me home now, please, Lloyd?” I ask, walking out to the SUV.

  “Yes, but you need to speak with Mr. Caruso. It’s imperative.”

  “I’ll call him privately from the house.” He stifles his reply, an intense, strained look on his face and grinds his teeth.

  Grind away. I’m not doing it.

  Leaning my head against the window on the drive home, I reflect in my melancholy state. My mind is racing with confusion, anger, and apprehension. Closing my eyes, I imagine being in the Tuscan farmhouse, free of worries, just Lucca and me without complications.

  “Miss Robertson, there is mail for you. It’s on the console in the hall,” Devon says when I reach the front door.

  Although I’m warming to him, and he does have an enticing accent, I’m still peeved with my lack of privacy. It appears he’s going to get the brunt of it since Lloyd took the hint and remained quiet, sensing my foul mood.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what it is since you’ve opened it anyway and save me the bother.” Not waiting for a reply, I go straight upstairs into the bedroom and slump on the bed. I need to keep my eyes open before I fall asleep again, so I decide to shower and do my makeup.

  I style my hair, apply my makeup and body butter cream, and add jewellery. Then I scroll through the clothes racks in my dressing room. I wear jeans a
nd a T-shirt and my new converse, but put the sexy Alexander McQueen orange bustier dress from Firenze in a bag. I also take the black patent leather peep toes with the gold winged skull brooch and the matching clutch, some makeup, perfume, and my purse. It occurs to me that it might be a bit too adventurous wearing high heels with an ankle sprain, but they match the outfit and I’m not planning on dancing so I won’t be on my feet. I’m so used to seeing bruises on my body that one to my ankle doesn’t faze me.

  “Are you going out?” Rose asks, placing some fresh baked goodies on the counter.

  “Yes, just over to Jessica’s for a movie night.” I hate lying to Rose. I’m so close to calling this deceitful plan off because I hate dishonesty.

  “Have you had dinner yet?” She frowns.

  “Not yet. I’ll just grab something quick.”

  “Have you spoken with Lucca?” she asks. Shamefully, I drop my head in silence. “Petal, it’s none of my business, it’s up to you to sort out, but he’s frantic and you’re obviously miserable. Lloyd mentioned something.” She gently rubs my arm and says she’ll make me a quick Spanish omelette.

  “Thank you, Rose. I’m sorry. I’m hurt and angry now, but I will speak to him, I promise.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

  While I eat she enlightens me about some of Lucca’s pigheaded, stubbornness and laughs about them. I want to laugh, but I can’t. Not tonight.

  I finish the omelette then give her a huge kiss and appreciative hug.

  Devon is my designated driver tonight, which is awkward because I was so sharp with him earlier. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve just had a stressful few days and it’s draining me,” I say to him from the back of the SUV.

  “No need to apologise. We don’t take it personally. It’s imperative to remain impassive and professional at all times in our line of work, as it can be a stressful and emotional time for clients.”

  “Thank you.”

  He remains focused on the road but nods his head in acknowledgement. Who would have thought Men in Black could be so compassionate? I wonder whether they’ll both be coming up north with us to visit my family. That will be interesting, turning up with bodyguards. Granny of course will love it and tell everyone in the village about our security, but my mum will be sick with worry. That’s another concern entirely.