He stares at me, then smiles slightly, sardonically.
“I’m a monster, Eva. There is no saving a monster. But I love that you want to try.”
My heart constricts at the expression on his face. He has no hope for himself, so I have to hope for him.
“You’re not a monster,” I argue softly. “You’re a man, Luca. A man like any other, you’re made of blood and bone. You’re not a monster. You have a good heart. I can see it in your eyes and I can feel it when you’re inside of me. Whatever this is, this darkness that plagues you…. We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”
He sighs raggedly and I know that he won’t argue with me tonight. But he won’t believe simple words, either. I know that, too. So I will simply have to show him. I have to help him. I have to. I will be as lost as he is if I don’t.
Chapter Twenty-Five
My phone rings and wakes me from a delicious sleep filled with sensuous dreams and dark eyes.
I fumble for the offending noisemaker, find it and growl an intelligible greeting into it.
“Good morning. Are you hungry?” The voice on the other end is husky and smooth.
It’s Luca.
That fact makes me instantly happy and I smile, remembering last night. Luca had spent most of the night with me and it was delicious. I run my fingers along my arms and then my neck, remembering how his lips had touched the same places.; how his fingers had caressed every inch of my body. It gives me pleasant shivers.
“Yes,” I tell him honestly. “I’m starving.”
“You should be,” he laughs. “I’m in the mood for pizza,” he continues, and I can hear him smiling through the phone. I picture his perfect white teeth.
“Luca,” I point out. “It’s 8:00 a.m.”
He laughs.
“Well, to get good pizza, it will be a bit of a jaunt. Are you up for it?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “I love good Italian. I’ll go to great lengths to get it. I’ll meet you downstairs shortly.” I throw some clothes on, yank a brush through my hair and rush down the stairs.
He meets me in the foyer downstairs and asks if I have my passport.
“In my room,” I tell him. He smiles.
“You should go get it,” he tells me. I raise an eyebrow, but do as he asks.
A short time later, we have flown to Italy on a Minaldi jet and are sitting on the patio of his favorite Italian restaurant.
In Italy.
Our conversation is light and friendly. We don’t talk about anything heavy or ugly or deep. It is simply a lovely day in the sun; something that two friends or two people on a date would do.
I stare at him over a piece of hot, perfectly greasy pizza, winding a piece of cheese around my finger. Luca, in his expensive slacks and tailored shirt, should look out of place with a slice of pizza in his hand. But he doesn’t. He looks casual and at ease. I smile.
“Do you do this often?” I ask, one eyebrow cocked. He looks innocent.
“Do what? Have lunch?” he takes a bite, chews it and looks at me then grins. “In Italy?”
He laughs and I have to laugh with him.
“Well, Italy isn’t that far from Malta, really,” he defends himself. “Only a few hundred miles.”
“Uh-huh,” I nod my head, humoring him in an exaggerated way. “Yes, I always take a private jet to lunch too. Definitely.”
He laughs again and flicks a rolled up straw wrapper at me. I duck and it sails past me. I’ve never seen the light-hearted side of Luca Minaldi. I like it. So I tell him that.
“What?” he asks. “You think I’m always gloom and doom?”
But after I point it out, he doesn’t seem as light-hearted as he was and I regret bringing it up.
His phone rings and since it is an important business call, he has to take it. He excuses himself and takes it outside of the dining area. I eat another slice of pizza and drain the rest of my soda. And then I sit and enjoy the sun on my shoulders while I wait for him to return.
After a few minutes, he is back.
“Are you ready for the best Tiramisu you’ve ever had?”
I grin. “You will never have to ask me that question twice.”
He tosses some bills on the table and we go right around the corner to a little bakery where he orders one piece of the decadent dessert. We sit at a bistro table in the corner and he feeds me bites.
This cannot possibly be the same Luca Minaldi that I have come to know. This Luca Minaldi is relaxed and casual. I immensely enjoy it. Although we know that shadows linger around us in the form of his family’s ‘affliction’, it feels wonderfully amazing to simply enjoy a normal, fun day.
“What would you like to do now?” he asks me after we’ve all but licked the little dessert plate. His question surprises me.
“I thought this was just a lunch date,” I tell him. “We have time to look around?”
He smiles again.
“I thought we could turn it into a day trip. That is, if you don’t mind.”
I pretend to think on that.
“Hmm. Spend a day in Naples, Italy with a dashing tall, dark and handsome man? I guess I could do that.”
He laughs and before I know it, we are hailing at taxi and on our way to the Capella Sansevero.
“If you see nothing else in Naples in your entire life,” Luca tells me during the short drive, “You need to see The Veiled Christ. It’s breathtaking.”
“The Veiled Christ?” I am doubtful that this is as breathtaking as he claims. But he is already shaking his head.
“You’ll see,” he says knowingly. “It’s a statue carved by Giuseppe Sanmartino back in the 1700’s. It’s amazing.”
I am both amused and impressed. Normal men might have simply taken me for a walk in the Historic Centre and let me wander aimlessly around. But true to form, Luca has definite opinions about what is entertaining or worthy of our time. I would expect nothing less from him.
And as it turns out, he is correct.
I find myself sucking in my breath at the detail on the statue, which is in the center of the Sansevero Chapel. The depiction of Christ, thinly covered by a sheet of marble, looks as though Christ Himself is lying on the stone in front of us. He looks as though he is getting ready to rise from the marble and speak to us. His facial features, his crucifixion wounds, everything… are perfectly detailed.
“Did I tell you?” Luca asks quietly from beside me. I nod. This chapel seems so reverent that we shouldn’t even speak. To speak would mar the serenity that this place holds.
After I soak in the beauty for several minutes more, Luca turns to me.
“Would you like to go beneath the city?”
I nod. “Definitely. I’ve heard about the underside of Naples. It’s supposed to be like stepping into ancient Rome.”
“And it is,” Luca assures me. “Come. You will love it.”
He steers my elbow through the throngs of people waiting to see The Veiled Christ. A short time later, we find ourselves deep under the city of Naples in a place where time seemed to rewind and stand still.
“Oh, my word,” I breathe as we make our way through the sand-stone brick tunnels. We descend into first century B.C., into a Greco-Roman theatre which has the seating capacity of six thousand. Our tour guide tells us that Nero sung through an earthquake here.
I am spellbound by the history surrounding us. It’s amazing and awe-inspiring. Luca reaches over and picks up my hand, holding it within his as we wind our way deeper and deeper through the catacombs.
My favorite part is the section beneath the San Lorenzo Maggiore church. In other parts of the tunnels, we had to use our imaginations to picture what life must have been like. But here in this part, we are surrounded by ancient Roman storefronts; by a Roman laundry and bakery. By the street that ran below. It is absolutely incredible. So I turn and tell Luca that.
He smiles at me graciously, looking pleased by my joy.
“You’re incredible,” he tell
s me. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it and my stomach flutters. Even in the dim lights of the tunnel, he is strikingly handsome. He bends and presses a kiss to my forehead, then holds my hand for the rest of the tour.
It’s a magical day.
We fly back to Valletta in the evening, quietly enjoying each other’s company. I lay in his lap on the leather sofa on the plane, staring up at him. He absently twirls a piece of my hair as we chat.
“Did you always want to be a doctor?” he asks, making conversation. I nod, my neck scraping against his zipper.
“Yes. Ever since my brother died. I became fascinated with how people handle different situations and why everyone does so differently. Have you always wanted to work in the family business?”
He thinks on that for a second.
“It was never really a choice. I never considered what I wanted to do, because my brothers and I always knew this was our path in life.”
“That makes me a little sad,” I tell him. “People should always have a choice.”
He stirs a little, then rests his arm over my hip.
“I had a choice, Eva. This is what I chose. To be complacent and take my place within the family. I’m not as excited about it as my brother Damien…he always wanted to run the company. But I’m fine with it. I would probably choose it again, if I needed to.”
“Well, that’s the important thing,” I answer. I find myself sleepy, so I tell him that. He smiles.
“Go ahead and sleep then. We have a while until we get home.”
Home.
Oddly enough, it feels good to think of Chessarae as home. I close my eyes. I wake some time later to feel Luca’s lips on my forehead, then my neck.
I open my eyes and look into his. I see a delicious storm brewing there.
“Did I ever tell you thank you for lunch?” I ask. He smiles, his grin full of something delightfully wicked.
“Nope. But I know a way you can show me.”
I smile back. “Is that so?”
He nods seriously. “Absolutely.”
“And how is that?”
He grins wickedly now. “Well, first you put your hand here.” And he lifts my hand, settling in onto his crotch, which grows instantly hard beneath my fingers. I quirk an eyebrow, then grin.
“And then what?”
“Use your imagination,” he whispers into my ear as he nips at my earlobe.
“I’m a doctor,” I remind him. “I don’t have much imagination. I’m left-brained.” But the entire time I am speaking, my hands are moving. Before he even knows it, his pants are unfastened and my tongue is circling the tip of his penis, while my fingers are sliding up and down the shaft.
“You’re doing fine,” he growls, his hands cupping my behind and pulling me closer as his breath comes in pants. “You seem to have the mechanics down.”
I smile, my lips curving against his erection, before I close my mouth and begin to suck, all the while still moving my hands.
I can hear the breath catching in his chest as I move faster and faster. Finally, he speaks, although it sounds almost pained.
“Eva, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come in your mouth.”
I don’t stop.
* * *
I’m weary by the time we reach Chessarae. The sun has already set and it is late as we glide into the driveway.
“Are you hungry?” Luca asks me. “I can have the staff prepare dinner.”
I shake my head.
“No. I’m fine.”
He nods, then comes around to open my door and we enter the quiet house. The servants have all retired for the evening. It’s empty and dark. I find that I’m not ready for the day to be over, and apparently, Luca isn’t either. We are both reluctant to part ways and return to our separate rooms.
“Let’s have wine on the terrace,” Luca suggests. And I agree.
“That sounds lovely,” I tell him.
I take a seat in the gardens while Luca brings the wine.
I am amazed at how serene and happy I feel right now, after the angst I felt last night on Luca’s behalf. I start to bring it up, but Luca shakes his head.
“Let’s have a day where we don’t discuss ugliness, shall we?” he suggests. “This has been a good day. I’d like to keep enjoying it.”
I nod. “Okay. I understand that.” He smiles in appreciation and sips his wine.
“You know what I’m in the mood for?” he asks me. I shake my head.
“No, what? I know what you were in the mood for earlier, but I think you’ve been indulged on every level…” my voice trails off and he laughs.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
“A ride?”
He nods. “A ride.”
Luca sets his wine glass down and holds out his hand. I take it and I find myself being led to the stables.
“By yourself or with me?” he asks as we enter the building. The sweet smells of hay surround us and I murmur, “With you.”
“Good answer,” he says approvingly, and he only saddles one horse. He lifts me up, then swings up behind me. I lean back against him, against his warmth and strength. I can feel his heart beating against my back and I enjoy the feeling very much.
By now it is dusk and we are on the beach, the large horse easily carrying us through the sand. The sea crashes to our left and I stare at the moon.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say drowsily, my back absorbing the heat from his chest. “I love it here at Chessarae.”
“It can be very beautiful,” Luca answers. “Especially when you are here.”
His strong arms tighten up around me and warmth fills me up. I’m treading a dangerous line here and I know that. The line is about to blur to a place where I will no longer be able to be objective where Luca is concerned. Tonight, however, I am having a hard time caring about that. We ride for at least an hour more.
When we finally return to the stable, it is very dark and I am very tired.
However, when I slide to the ground and turn, only to find myself face to face with Luca, I suddenly realize that I’m not too tired. He ducks his head and covers my mouth with his, still hungry. We make love again, here in the stable against the wall. He picks me up easily and holds me as my legs encircle his hips. I don’t even feel it as my back slides against the stable wall. I lick the side of his neck and I decide that I love the taste of him. I tell him that, whispering it into his ear.
“I love the taste of you,” he says, and his eyes get a wicked gleam.
He pulls out of me and slides to the ground to his knees and then fills me with his tongue. My knees instantly grow weak. My hands grasp first at his hair and then at the wooden beams of the wall behind me and my eyes glaze over with pleasure. It’s all I can do not to whimper. By the time he is finished, however, I am doing more than whimpering. I am screaming his name, then falling limply to his chest as he moans mine.
By the time we finally return to the house, I have decided that it has been a very good day.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luca
I don’t know why I have done this. I have no excuse. My behavior is as reprehensible as I am myself. To have drawn Eva to me like I have, to have acted on what I know we shouldn’t have… it’s unforgiveable.
Yet even still, I tighten my grip on her. She is sleeping now, deep and still and peaceful, her crimson hair spread around her on the pillow. The moonlight drifts in through her balcony doors and I wonder why we didn’t open them before we collapsed into the bed.
But we weren’t thinking about the balcony doors when we came into this room.
We were exhausted by how much we had ‘indulged’ ourselves today.
And after we came into this room, and my intentions were only to tuck her in, I couldn’t help myself. She was so soft and beautiful, I couldn’t resist but to stay. I drew her to me and she came so easily, sleeping in my arms. Her soul is so beautiful and I know that I will break it. Against every lingering shred of my will, I know t
hat I will break it. I sigh raggedly in the dark room.
She’s beautiful and gentle and God would never give me someone like her and allow it to work. He wouldn’t.
Yet still I clutch her.
She is soft beneath my fingers and I know that I should let go. That I should get up from this bed and never come back.
But I can’t.
The selfish part of me can’t do it.
Eva moves slightly and I adjust my hold on her, allowing her to turn. She settles in, turning her face into my chest and I wrap my arm around her. She is vulnerable in sleep and I feel an inherent need to protect her.
Against myself.
I sigh, a ragged sound in the night. I carefully get up, taking care to not disturb her. I’m restless now. If I stay in bed, I know I will disturb her. I first cross to the balcony doors and open them, allowing the fresh sea breeze to come in. Then I make my way down the halls to the great room where I play the piano, trying to play the restless energy out of myself. But an hour passes and I am still wide awake.
I move to the outdoors for a walk in the fresh air.
The gardens are lit with the silvery light of the moon. I can smell the earth, moist with evening dew, as I walk through the dimly lit paths. I move quietly through the fragrant blooms to the terrace. I sit on a nearby marble bench, staring absently at a bubbling fountain in front of me, trying to allow the soft blue light in the water to lull me to a sleepier place.
It doesn’t work.
“You couldn’t sleep, either?”
Adrian’s low voice interrupts my solitude and I turn to find him standing behind me. He’s dressed casually, in sweats and a t-shirt and it looks like he has been in bed. His hair is slightly rumpled. I shake my head.
“No. You?”
Adrian shakes his head. “Nah. Fucking full moon.”
He rolls his eyes and I lift mine to the sky. There is a full moon tonight. I hadn’t noticed it until now. Huge and yellow, it hangs low in the sky, barely visible on the edge of the horizon. It’s a beautiful sight, Mother Nature at her finest.
“So the moon’s at fault for your shitty sleep patterns now?” I scoff.
Adrian shrugs. “Why not? Everything else is blamed on it. Child birth, bad behavior, crimes, epileptic seizures. Why not my insomnia?”
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