by Soraya Naomi
“Yes, thank you,” I respond before addressing Luca as I watch the man place the last cushion on the stunning ivory couch, “So is it more furniture?”
“No, this is just for you.” His voice is tender and seductive; it’s the tone I’ve missed intensely.
Then the elevator glides open once again and I recognize the girl from the bakery located around the corner. The one that usually delivers me pastries on Sunday. She sticks out her hand, holding up a white box, and I take it from her while pressing my phone between my ear and shoulder and setting the box on the kitchen island. Lifting the lid, I see a lovely heart-shaped cupcake with lemon frosting and a delicious sugary smell billows up. Wrapping my fingers around the warm cake, I take a huge bite and close my eyes from delight.
“Are you still there?” Luca asks.
I swipe my mouth. “Um, yeah.”
“Did you already eat it?” He laughs.
“I’m eating it now,” I reply, amused and touched that he’s making an effort to show his regret. “Thank you, Luca.”
“I want to make you happy again,” he admits. “I’m trying, dolcezza.”
The mention of the name makes me grin even wider. “I know.”
“I won’t be home late. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” I admit before he hangs up.
Although the anger brewing between us has settled, I’m still left with doubts.
CHAPTER 39
Luca
I’M IN A BAD HEADSPACE while Fallon shuts me out, which I did to her often for the past month. I berate myself for ever questioning her, for letting alcohol sedate me. Fortunately, she’s not one to stay stuck in worries and I’m slowly breaking down her walls. Though it’s taking much longer than I’d prefer. I want to sleep in my bed with my wife, but deep down, I realize I deserve this and much more. I haven’t earned her devotion, yet I crave it. So I’ve listened to Adriano’s advice and I attempt to reel her back in by lavishing her with attention and affection.
After ending the call with Fallon, I catch myself smiling contently for the first time in a long while. I’m also happy that the remodel of the restaurant is proceeding without a hitch. I saunter to the end of the bar where there’s a newly installed black door and go through it into the state-of-the-art stainless steel kitchen. A few workers are putting the ventilation system in the ceiling, so I dip my chin to them before I notice a stack of menus on the counter. I snatch one up to take with me and exit since everything seems to be under control.
Then I see Adriano rushing down the stairs from the balconied second floor, shucking into his charcoal suit jacket. “Let’s go. John Rudd is having lunch at the country club.”
I weave through the tables and follow him out the door where we jump into his BMW, eager to talk with Rudd.
THE COUNTRY CLUB IS an elegant brown brick mansion with a valet at the front entrance that’s located right outside the Loop.
Adriano steps out and says to the valet, “I’ll be right back,” as we right our collars and button our suit jackets, looking as if we fit in here.
When a panicked look clouds the young man’s features, Adriano scowls at him, so he inches back and we stride forward through the sliding doors, passing the hostess standing behind a tall walnut podium.
Around a grin, Adriano tells her, “I have an appointment with John Rudd.”
“He’s sitting at the window, sir.” She motions toward the far end of the busy dining room where two middle-aged men are talking, and one rises to walk away.
Immediately, Adriano eats the distance to the table while Rudd looks out the window, which overlooks the perfectly trimmed green stretch of lawn, until our shadows fall over him when we reach the table. His head whips up and he stops chewing, swallowing heavily.
“Good afternoon,” Adriano speaks, pulling back a chair while I claim the seat opposite Rudd as he runs a hand through his silver hair, his wrinkled eyes narrowing.
As I laze back, Adriano sinks down and fishes out his Marlboro pack from the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes out a cig with his teeth and shakes his gold lighter from the pack as well. Then he places his smoke between his teeth and flicks open his lighter, bringing it up to the tip and lighting it as Rudd’s fork clanks on his plate.
“What do you want?” Rudd grinds out, surveying the room suspiciously as the hostess comes up to us.
“You can’t smoke in here, sir.”
Adriano blows a smoke ring, his grin darkening as he evaluates Rudd. “It’s just one smoke.” And he points his cig at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Rudd steels his jaw, and I can practically see his heart beating through his expensive brown jacket. “No.” And he waits for the hostess to turn away before he addresses me, “What do you want?”
I take a flash drive from my pocket and toss it onto his plate among the steak and potatoes. “Since you’ve been wanting the footage so badly, we thought it would be nice to bring it to you.”
His lips thin. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not in the mood for games. You must wonder what happened to Tez. Hasn’t he been MIA since Sunday?”
“Monday,” Adriano corrects around a malicious smirk.
“Ah, yes, Monday.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “We ended him after he confessed that you’ve been threatening him for that recording.”
“And you’re just giving it to me? How do I know there aren’t any copies?”
Adriano chuckles. “No, no, we’re not here to help you. Of course there are copies. Actually, there are numerous copies, and one has been sent to the Chicago Tribune. Check your phone.”
“What?” he snarls, bewildered.
Getting out my mobile, I visit the website of the Chicago Tribune, which features a headline that’s just been put online by an associate we have on our payroll who’s a journalist. The headline reads John Rudd’s sex tape. I hold up the screen to face him, and his hand shoots forward, but I rear back.
“What the fuck did you do,” he hisses just as his phone starts ringing, one call after another.
I stand up. “Before you try to threaten any other people in my crew for that recording, I just released it. You fuck with me, then I ruin your life. Your career is over, your wife will probably leave you, and you’ll never be able to trace it to Club 7 because we’ve closed it down.”
All the blood drains from his face as he reads the article with details of his threesome involving a man.
Adriano stubs out his cigarette in Rudd’s steak and leans close as I walk away. “Court is over and you lost, Your Honor.” Then Adriano trails me out while several men avert their gazes, and he asks me, “Shall I drop you off at the Blackhall?”
I nod and roll my neck, my stress lessened since I’ve taken back the reins completely. Now all I want is to be home.
CHAPTER 40
Fallon
WHEN I ENTER THE PENTHOUSE, Luca’s sitting at the far end of the new couch with Milana sleeping beside him on the cushion and Noah draped over his lap. His thick, dark hair topples over his forehead as he glances down. He has nail clippers in one hand and Noah’s tiny finger in the other, clipping Noah’s nails as he snoozes. The way he gently checks Noah’s fingers has my desire for Luca beating in my veins. How I’ve ached to have his caring side of him back. He appears utterly at ease as he glances up.
I place my bag on the oak coffee table, noticing a sleek black leather menu.
“What’s this?” I pick it up and flip it open.
“It’s the menu for the restaurant. I wanted to show you,” he explains, setting Noah on the couch and covering him with his blue blanket.
“It’s chic.” I run my fingers over the leather, reading the maroon lettering of a high-end Italian menu that’s clearly been carefully selected by the chef with seasonal ingredients. Then I note the prices and tease, “Who can afford to eat here?”
Amusement twists his sensual mouth. “The rich and famous.” Shrugging, he slips down the
hallway as I shed my wool coat and notice that the living room has a lot of empty space now that the couch is L-shaped instead of U-shaped. Maybe I should bring the dinner table forward and put a large bookcase against the wall in here. I have to relocate the library when the kids are bigger anyway because they’ll need that room, which already has two bathrooms. As I mull this over, Luca returns, wearing only his grey sweats that hang low on his hips and showing off his toned chest.
I tilt my head as he approaches me. “Can you put on a shirt?”
“No,” he replies, stopping in front of me and pressing a brief kiss to my lips – our only physical contact in five days.
It sends electricity pulsing through me. In this second, I realize how much I long for him. Yet he doesn’t push and cleverly retreats to sit on the couch, lifting Milana to hold her against his chest, her head against his shoulder.
Since he’s clearly staying in, I make us some tea and coffee before turning on the TV, and after the twins wake up, we play with them while we lounge on our new couch.
“Did you see the link I texted you?” Luca asks suddenly.
“I did. So you gave Rudd the scandal he so badly wanted to avoid.”
“I did that for you. I didn’t kill him, but I ruined his career so that he can suffer.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Rudd should’ve feared you,” Luca teases, and I nudge him with my shoulder playfully.
Somehow, he’s managed to dispel my resentment and is winning back my trust, because when I doze off on the couch, I jerk awake when hear him calling, “Dolcezza?”
I squint open my eyes and feel myself being picked up. “What are you doing?”
“You belong”—he pauses, the words dangling on his tongue—“in my bed.”
I smile and loop my arms around Luca’s neck, breathing in his fresh scent while he carries me effortlessly to the master suite.
There, he lays me down, gently smoothing my bangs from my face and whispering, “Sleep,” before he pulls the blankets up, and I tumble into dreamland.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I wake up lying on my side in bed alone with the sunlight pouring through the windows to bask me in its golden warmth. I realize that I slept through the night, so Luca must have done the feedings himself. Moreover, he’s respected my wishes and slept on the couch again. This is the man I married and fell in love with.
At that moment, Luca enters the room, his lips quirking up. “Good morning, sleepy head.”
“Morning. What time is it?”
“Eight. The kids are in the cribs and have eaten. I’m just visiting the warehouse with Adriano and then I’ll come home.”
“Okay,” I say as he bends down to kiss me, firmly slanting his mouth over mine.
I welcome the kiss, but eventually, he pulls back, his clean-shaven face much more stress-free than in recent weeks, before he leaves the room.
All of a sudden, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, so I grab it and swipe open a text.
Cam: I’m going to visit the restaurant to see the kitchen. Want to come? I’m going at noon.
Fallon: Sure. I’ll call the babysitter and meet you there.
Cam: Okay
THE FRONT ENTRANCE of what used to be Club 7 is unrecognizable. It now has large black double doors with shiny metal handles that run vertically from the top to the bottom. Opening them, I step inside a warzone of drilling, dust, and equipment strewn around. Hurriedly, I cross the space toward the bar where the door to the kitchen is located and push through it. I see Cam’s bob haircut and Brielle’s wavy blonde hair as they stand with their backs to me and then turn around.
“Hey!” they greet, strolling forward to me as I meet them halfway in the spotless, stainless steel kitchen.
“And this is my domain. Where the desserts are made,” Brielle says to Cam as we stand at the long, shiny counter where she sets a dessert that she takes from the shelf beneath it.
“Wow, that’s beautiful.” I inspect the black plate with a dollop of mascarpone cream that’s shaped like a rose, a square piece of espresso-soaked white cake, and cocoa powder sprinkled over the top. “What is it?”
“It’s a deconstructed tiramisu.”
“I saw the menu, but I didn’t see the desserts,” I inform her, and she grunts, shifting over to two stacks of the leather menus.
“You probably saw this one. Where they forgot the desserts. The dessert menu isn’t supposed to be a separate menu, so we’ve had them reprinted.” Then she takes two from the other stack to hand them over.
I peruse the desserts and stop at the third one at the same time as Cam. Our gazes whip to one another.
“Did you know this?” Cam asks, amused.
“Oh, shit!” Brielle pipes in, shutting my menu with both hands while I smile. “I don’t think you were supposed to see it.”
“Probably not. But tell me, did Luca do this?” I inquire since one of the desserts is named Dolcezza and consists of a dark chocolate cake with a candied orange slice.
Brielle worries her lip. “Well, the surprise is out anyway. I thought you already knew something when I misspoke at the closing down party. I said we worked on your cake and then I covered it up by saying I wanted cake,” she puts in sheepishly, making Cam and me chuckle loudly.
“I didn’t notice.” I was too distracted that day.
“But yeah, Luca did this. He was in here for two days to taste my chocolate cake until it was perfectly infused with dark chocolate. He told me it would be named dolcezza because his wife loves dark chocolate. And I swear he said that you’re too good for him; he was a little melancholic.”
My heart skips a beat. Even when he pulled away, he thought mainly of me.
“Oh my god. That’s so sweet,” Cam muses. “Why didn’t Adriano do that?”
Brielle’s grin grows wider. “Are you jealous?”
“A little bit,” Cam answers jokingly.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say to Brielle, the urge to leave exploding inside me. “Can I have that menu? I want to surprise Luca.”
“Sure.” She hands the menu back and I throw it in my purse. “I’m going home.”
Cam’s lips quirk up before I slip out.
God help me because Luca’s the most distracting and unreadable man I’ve ever met. Why didn’t he tell me about this? I’m finally sensing that my old Luca is back, which brings sweet joy to my soul that’s permanently connected to his.
CHAPTER 41
Luca
WHEN I MAKE MY WAY inside the penthouse, I halt all of a sudden. Fallon’s standing in front of the sofa, looking absolutely gorgeous in a simple black dress with spaghetti straps that flares at her hips. However, when she holds up the menu, I cock my head, taking off my suit jacket and flinging it onto a bar stool.
“Did you know that they reprinted these because they forgot that the desserts were supposed to be printed on them too?”
“No, but I wondered why you didn’t mention anything yesterday...” I reply.
“Because the Dolcezza dessert isn’t on the menu you showed me. Brielle told me.” She clutches the menu, inching forward. “That’s so sweet!” At last, she initiates intimacy and goes on her tiptoes to press her mouth to mine.
Cupping the back of her head, I deepen our kiss before she pulls back. “See, I always think about you. You possess my mind.”
“You possess my mind too, so we have to get past this, Luca. Ever since we had the babies and that first incident occurred on New Year’s, you’ve become overbearing. You can’t control every little aspect when there are four people involved. Maybe that was possible when you were alone, but you need to trust my strong points too. I told you over and over that I’m not a naïve civilian anymore. I survived a lot to get to the truth, to protect us – what you always feel the need to do as well – why couldn’t you understand that?”
“You’re right,” I respond, causing her amber eyes to widen. “I’m so sorry. Just seeing Noah hurt unbalanced me, and then
when everything got strange, I didn’t know how to handle it.”
I lie and scheme to shelter her and the twins as well. In hindsight, I made the mistake of losing control; she didn’t. So I own up to it because I won’t allow my wife to distance herself from me. As she cradles my cheek, I turn into her palm and kiss it.
“I know you didn’t know how to handle it. But always remember that I’m not that girl you stalked at the coffee shop when we first met anymore. I’m the woman who understands your violent mind. I’m also the mother of your children. We have to let each other back in.”
“I’ve already decided that but wanted to give you time, dolcezza. Because I deserved this punishment.”
She sends me a sad smile while I nuzzle her nose.
“And I lost it because I drank. I promise on our children that I’ll never drink again, and I’ll never underestimate you.”
Her astonished gaze shoots up as she lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m so glad you’re acknowledging that.”
“You were right about everything, and I’ve seen how strong you are. You don’t need me to protect you, but I need you to protect me.”
“No, we protect each other. We’re in this together forever, like you promised,” she whispers.
“Per sempre, dolcezza.” Forever, sweetheart.
Palming her ass, I pull her into me. “Mi sei mancato così tanto.” I’ve missed you so much.
Then I crash my lips down onto hers. My tongue darts into her mouth, impatiently tasting home. I groan when her back bows into our kiss, and her body yields to my touch as she forgives me, at last.
Picking Fallon up by her hips, I set her on the arm of the ivory couch and wedge myself between her legs. Her warm hands on my neck give me a sense of familiarity that’s been lost for weeks. She kisses me with the same hunger I feel in my soul. Dragging my mouth down her throat, I take a hardened nipple in my mouth, biting the soft skin on the curve of her breast through the fabric of her dress. She tugs hard at my hair, creating an arousing mix of sensual promise.