Luca's Lessons

by Deana Birch

  The sleek car slowed and crept to a stop in front of her house. He killed the engine and got out to open the door for her. With a hand on the alluring curve of her lower back, he guided her to her front door. She paused and turned around to face him.

  Reaching out for her was beyond his control, and he framed her cool face with warm hands. He titled her chin up.

  “When it happens, if it happens”—he smoothed her pale skin with his thumb—“make no mistake. I choose you. I want you.” He stepped back and smiled with pride. He ran a hand over her blonde hair, enjoying the softness and contrast to his own coloring. “If you choose me, Claire—if that’s where this goes—you can be sure my dedication will be only to you.”

  The gentle kiss on her forehead was a sad replacement for his desires but a nonetheless chilling sign of the connection they had already formed. He held it longer than he should have and cursed both the withdrawal and need for more. Wanting her was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

  That tender fierceness, her fragile strength… It was all a mystery he needed to unravel.

  “Thank you,” she said, and turned around to unlock her massive front door. Claire’s eyes met his once more from over her shoulder and she went inside.

  Once he’d heard the sound of the lock, Luca walked down the steps and went back to his car.

  On the drive back to the club…well, home, since his residence was on the top floor, he contemplated playing with one of the free subs to release a bit of his energy but he knew he wouldn’t. Putting a scene together while wishing he was with someone else would be a disservice to any sub. Plus, while he was sober enough to drive a car, he had drunk earlier. No, he would have to take care of himself the old-fashioned way. He snickered in the otherwise silent and pristine car.

  Haven’t done that in a while.

  * * * *

  Claire’s assistant—Julien was his name—was turning out to be a trusted ally. He’d not only confirmed the receipt of Luca’s money in his brand-new bank account, but he’d also sent Luca Claire’s private email and telephone number and cleared her schedule to accompany Luca to the purchase of the club.

  She didn’t need to be there. In fact, really only Bruno, Luca and the notary were physically required, but Luca hungered to see the woman in action.

  On the cobblestone sidewalk outside the notary’s office, she stood in a dark gray suit that subtly hugged her curves. The light blue silk blouse underneath matched her eyes and Luca thanked whatever historical genius had required the Swiss to kiss three times for hello. When her light perfume, still the jasmine with a hint of geranium, stroked his senses, he put aside the thought that he’d missed it.

  Desire to kiss, self-gratification and now longing for her smell? The sooner he got an upper hand on this situation the better. And she wasn’t late. In fact, she was early.

  Luca stepped back. “Shall we?”

  He held the door open and Claire passed through with a warm smile. When the small elevator doors closed in front of them, she cleared her throat.

  “I got your email,” she said.

  He’d sent her a long list of reputable blogs he’d discovered over the years. They were not just a good start for a curious mind but also a helpful reminder to Doms/Dommes everywhere—provided that one took the time to read them, which he was sure some did not. Haste was the enemy of care.

  The doors opened, and Luca once again grazed the spot on Claire’s lower back. In the waiting room of the notary, they found Bruno, dressed in an admirable bright blue suit with a pink tie, and the younger and thinner Adrian in a V-neck tight sweater and even tighter dark jeans. Introductions were made, and Luca left them to inform the receptionist that the party was complete.

  In a small conference room, Adrian and Bruno took seats opposite Luca and Claire, with the middle-aged notary and his thick glasses at the helm.

  Claire crossed her legs at the ankle. She lined up her own paperwork directly in front of herself and interlaced her fingers in her lap. They all sat through the formal reading of the document of sale and Luca, transfixed by the utter stillness of his banker, was thankful he’d already had his lawyers scour the document. If she hadn’t blinked, he would have thought her a statue.

  After forty-five minutes and with the document signed, it was her turn for action. She accepted her copy and reached to retrieve her phone from her bag.

  “This is Claire Favre for Evan in Transactions, please.” She smiled over to Bruno, who was not just ready to be done with the club but to tie up all ends of his fortune. He would stay later at the notary to ensure that his final testament included the proviso that the newly acquired funds go to Adrian in the event of his death. And his death approaching was a real possibility if his illness did not slow its progression. The rush for the sale and the need for Luca to take over the club were more out of duty than desire.

  “This is Ms. Favre. Please transfer the ten million francs from account number E47A89 to the recipient in the notes.”

  She’d memorized his account number. Why am I surprised? And why am I touched?

  Claire thanked the employee on the other end of her phone and placed the device face down in front of her. “Congratulations, gentlemen. The transaction is complete.” She rose, and the men in the room did the same. She shook hands with them all as Luca gathered his paperwork. He tapped the file straight three times and tucked it into the soft leather case he used for his affairs.

  After saying his own farewells and wondering if he would ever see Bruno in Zurich again, he trailed Claire out of the office and back to the small elevator.

  Luca twisted his wrist and noted the time. “It’s a bit early for a drink. Do you have time for a coffee?”

  “I do,” she said, without checking her own watch or phone.

  They exited the building and walked across the square to a café, where they found a table in the back.

  With two small espressos in front of them and half a packet of sugar in each, Claire tapped the tiny spoon on her cup and cleaned it off in her mouth before storing it on the saucer.

  “As I was saying, I got your email.”

  “I heard you the first time.” He smiled. How could she doubt that he missed anything about her? She was exceptional in every way.

  She twisted the small platinum watch around her wrist, and Luca sipped his coffee.

  “And I want to thank you. You were right.”

  Undoubtedly, but he looked forward to her explanation about what.

  “It was rash to jump to the conclusion that I could be a”—she leaned down even though there was no one around them—“sub.”

  No. No thank you very much. He did not want to be right about that. Lord, he might even admit to being wrong. But if he’d saved her from making a commitment to something she wasn’t ready for, then he had acted with principle. And she was what mattered, not his longing.

  “You’ve changed your mind?”

  “I don’t recall using those words.” Her flirtatious tone erased the fact that she was using his own retort against him.

  He smiled. Touché.

  “As I said, you were right to stop me. And, for that, I am grateful.”

  He finished his coffee and slid the cup and saucer to the edge of the table. “It’s a big step. One that merits proper consideration.”

  “I understand that now. And I even dug a little deeper, to try to figure out what was pulling me toward it.”

  That…? That was pleasing. It was also information he was desperate to acquire. Oh, to be the flame to her nighttime butterfly.

  “Turns out,” she said with a little shake of her head that freed a lock of her blonde hair. “Turns out, I’m in it for the sex.”

  “Excuse me?” Luca looked around. Is this heaven?

  With a giddy smile and a blush in her cheeks, she continued, “There was a test—well, a survey—in one of the links you sent. My results all pointed to sexual submissive. And I have to tell you, I was relieved. I’m not sure I’
ve ever cleaned my house and I have no idea how to cook. So a domestic servant was scaring the shit out of me.”

  Information overload. But while those tests were a generally helpful way to steer one in the direction of their potential identity, they were not the be-all and end-all.

  “Anyway, again, I just want to say that I appreciate what you did that night. And if it’s okay with you, I would like to take some more time to think about this.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.” Or a terrible one, depending on which body part of Luca’s was doing the talking. But, deep down, he was proud of her. She had taken his advice and was applying it, just as he’d suggested. Whether or not this went anywhere between them, she had listened. He daresay, obeyed his wishes.

  But the gnawing at the inside of her lip told him she wasn’t done.

  “Ask,” he said.

  “I’d like to come back to the club, but only if you’re there—in case I have questions.”

  Did the beautiful woman understand that she’d already pleased a Dom? “Another excellent idea.”

  Chapter Eight

  Claire

  “A submissive must trust their Dom completely, implicitly, with as many aspects of their life as they negotiate. This can and may include everything from what they wear and what they eat to whether they take a bath versus a shower. A submissive is not merely submitting to the Dominant’s sexual and physical demands but also offering their free will, confident in the knowledge that they will be cared for and respected.”

  Claire took a long draw from her ivory cup of black coffee, not even noticing when she caught her lip in the small divot along the rim. The more she read—even though the very last thing she should be doing in the middle of a Thursday afternoon was reading about kinky sex acts—the more she wanted to experience things she’d never dreamed were for her.

  And, without a doubt, she wanted to experience them with Luca, further confusing her already-flustered mind. How had he come to be so important in her life in such a short time?

  “Your trust is a gift. Be certain to choose who you give this to wisely.” An evocative chuckle erupted from Julien’s lips. “Oh, what has that dastardly Italian done to my sweet, little Claire?”

  She jumped as soon as Julien began reading the words over her shoulder, the cup clattering loudly against the saucer in her hand. “Julien! Has the word ‘privacy’ ever entered your vocabulary?”

  He set a stack of papers in front of her before rounding the desk and taking residence in the leather chair. With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed her complaint. “Honey, we crossed the privacy barrier off the list when I helped your skinny braless ass shimmy into that sequined dress for the grand opening of whatever-the-hell that restaurant was last year.”

  “My ass is not skinny.” She rolled her eyes. “And by ‘whatever the hell’ I assume you mean Verkosten? The most exclusive restaurant in Zurich? The deal that landed Steinmetz and Favre multiple other accounts and corporate profiling by several influential trade magazines?”

  Julien huffed and crossed his legs, folding his hands around a kneecap. “Yes, yes, we are all thoroughly impressed with your business acumen, Ms. Favre. Now, let’s discuss important stuff, shall we? Are you a top or a bottom? A Master or a slave?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You would probably look amazing in black leather, you gorgeous bitch.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip then quickly released it as the image of Luca gently tugging it free and softly correcting her behavior flashed in her mind—as well as his approving smile. His words rang in her ear, the soft rumble of his deep voice explaining that submissives find joy in pleasing their Dominants. Yeah, she could relate to that.

  Claire met the steady, steely gaze head-on, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. “I am Claire Favre. I am a privileged daughter from one of the finest old-money families in Zurich. I’ve studied at the top boarding schools and universities in all of Europe—hell, probably the world. I’ve had etiquette classes, for fuck’s sake.” She covered her face with her hands. “And right now I want nothing more in the world than to let Luca Bernardi tie me up and beat my ass red with…whatever he wants, because I want to give him every bit of control.”

  She loved Julien deeply. He had become so much more than her assistant in a very short period of time. He was the only person she’d ever dared to confide in…but she also knew him better than she knew herself. She expected laughter. She expected sassy comments. She expected almost anything other than the silence she was greeted with. Her hands fell and she drew her eyebrows together. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Julien’s face remained uncharacteristically stoic. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, his gray eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I think you need this. I think you deserve this. I think Luca may be the best thing that has happened to you in a very long time.”

  He startled slightly and tapped the black earpiece he always wore to answer calls when he was away from his desk. “Steinmetz and Favre Banking, Claire Favre’s office.” His impassive expression quickly morphed into a devious grin. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bernardi. Let me check to see if Ms. Favre is available.”

  She swore simply thinking of him had summoned his presence. “Transfer him. Right away. He doesn’t like to wait.” She laid her hand on the phone receiver, ready to snatch it up as soon as Julien hit the button.

  His smile widened. “Sub. You are definitely a sub.”

  She glared at him, pulling the phone to her ear, mouthing ‘Go’ and shooing him away. She closed her eyes, swallowed and forced her voice into an even tone. “This is Claire Favre.” She mentally patted herself on the back for pretending she didn’t know exactly who was on the other end.

  “Good afternoon, Claire.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest. The man had spoken three words and wasn’t even in the same room as her and her body had immediately responded to his voice. “Hello, Luca. I-I didn’t expect to hear from you.” She jutted out her lower lip. “There isn’t a problem with the sale, is there?”

  A small chuckle echoed across the line. “No, no, you are too thorough for that. You truly left no room for errors. But I believe we have some unresolved business of a more personal nature.”

  Her heart stopped beating then began racing. “Yes, yes we do. I was actually reading through one of the articles you sent. It was quite informative.”

  “Having a late lunch, are we?”

  Claire’s stomach chose that exact moment to growl in protest at yet another missed meal. “Oh, lunch, no I… I skipped lunch today. Well, missed it. Worked through it would be a more accurate description, I suppose.” She placed her fingers over her lips at the admission. Why did she feel the need to divulge so much information to him? Her eyes landed on the screen in front of her as she read the second bullet point in the submissive guideline. Right beneath ‘Trust is honesty’.

  Silence. Her response was met with a heavy, telling silence. The disapproval practically oozed through the phone line. A lack of reply from Luca was nearly as intense as his voice.

  After several beats, he sighed. His voice became muffled but the words ‘salmon’ and ‘asparagus’ stood out. “I am sending a meal. I expect you to eat the entire thing. We will discuss your eating habits at a later date.”

  Rebellion fired up within her and she opened her mouth to do battle with the great and powerful Luca Bernardi. She wasn’t a child and could certainly manage to take care of herself and…

  “As you wish.”

  The words fell from her lips and warmth spread through her as she envisioned his approving nod—and the fire in his eyes each time she said that phrase. What was it about those three little words?

  He cleared his throat. “You mentioned wanting to return to the club, with me. I will pick you up tomorrow evening at nine.”

  What was it with Luca and that day? “I can’t Friday, but please, Saturday? I-I also have questions for you.”

  Another pause.
Shorter. “Saturday it is, Claire. Continue your research. There are some aspects we will certainly need to discuss. Enjoy your lunch, cara.” Without waiting for a response from her, he ended the call.

  Before she’d had time to process the whirlwind that was the end of her call with Luca, Julien swung the door open, leaning against the frame with that incorrigible smirk on his face and a to-go bag dangling from his index finger. “A Mr. Luca Bernardi requested a meal delivery for Ms. Claire Favre…or so said the delicious little delivery boy who dropped this off”—he winked, sauntering in the room to drop the food on her desk—“and gave me his number.”

  Claire tore the lid from the container, suddenly ravenous, and attacked the food with gusto. Swallowing the mouthful of glazed salmon and risotto, she waved her fork at Julien. “Then go call him and stop tormenting the payer of your salary.”

  * * * *

  Claire shoved her hands deeper into the light jacket she wore, shivering a little in the brisk fall air as she stood on her porch waiting for the sleek black Maserati to round the corner. He’d be pleased she was on time, early even. A hum of joy surged through her veins.

  The already familiar roar of the engine as Luca pulled up to her house sent a chill down her spine that was completely unrelated to the dropping temperature. When he rose from the vehicle, he pinned her with an intense stare, hanging one arm over the open driver’s door. The corners of his mouth twitched. Claire couldn’t help but smile as she stepped down to the sidewalk. ‘Joy in pleasing your Dom’…indeed.

  Even in her impressive heels, Luca still had to bend slightly to kiss her three times on her cheeks. Be it wishful thinking or a figment of her overly active imagination, he seemed to linger ever so slightly on the common greeting tonight. “You look stunning, cara.”

  She ducked her head. “Thank you, but I’m wearing a coat. For all you know, I could be wearing an orange leopard print pleather mini dress.”