Forever Lies

9

Take that, Captain Pushy Pants. Let the man work for his dinner. He may have been above playing games, but apparently, I was not. Plus, Luca was clearly a man who would lose interest in a woman who fell at his feet. No doubt, he had plenty of those in his life. Isn’t that how we get to know one another? Yes and no. I usually only go out with people I have a connection to. You could be an axe murderer, for all I know. How has that been working for you? Well, f**k. He was right. I hadn’t had a decent date in months. The last man I’d been out with was an accountant my mom set me up with—the son of some friend of hers. He’d sent his food back three times, complaining about too much garlic, used an inhaler halfway through the meal, and refused to leave a tip because of the imaginary garlic. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Touché. I’ll think about it. Don’t think too long. A giggle slipped past my lips at his reply. My immediate reaction was to text back or what, but I didn’t cave to the temptation. A man like Luca was accustomed to getting his way, and something inside me reveled at denying him the satisfaction of a response. I tossed my phone back in my purse and buried myself in work. I was successfully able to distract myself all day, but twenty-four hours later, Luca was all I could think about. I didn’t see him the next morning on my way into work, and I was getting twitchy about not giving in to his request for a date. Could my little show at playing hard-to-get backfire on me? He certainly hadn’t reached out to push for an answer—could he have decided I wasn’t worth the effort? My thoughts were consumed with questions about Luca, so much so that I was a distracted mess. I had turned on the ancient industrial coffee maker without any water in it, sent out an email to the wrong person, and had put a handful of letters into outgoing mail without any postage—all before ten a.m. I scolded myself, insisting when I returned from lunch, I would get my head on straight before I made a major mistake and got myself in trouble. I likely wouldn’t get fired—that was one of the perks of being the boss’s daughter—but explaining a screw up to my dad would be a far worse punishment. Memories of past reprimands would likely forever haunt me— I didn’t need to add to their numbers. One of the most vivid of those memories danced around in my subconscious every time my father grew agitated. At the ripe old age of seven, I had left the water on in the bathtub while I ran to collect some toys for my bath. Distracted by a Barbie my older sister had mutilated, I forgot about the water. Manufacturers make those little drains on the inside of tubs to catch overflow, but I’m not sure why—they don’t work worth a flip. The water flooded the bathroom and into my bedroom before I discovered what had happened. Even better, my room was on the second floor. The water leaked into the floor and dripped down into our living room. My mother made me face my father after he came home from work and tell him exactly what had happened. The veins in his temples had pulsed with anger. He’d berated me for acting like a baby and suggested I returned to wearing diapers. He never raised a hand to me or punished me unfairly, but his disappointment and anger had been enough. I’d only been seven, but I remembered that day like it was yesterday. I hated seeing the disappointment in my father’s eyes when I let him down, and if I didn’t pay more attention, that was exactly the direction I was headed. The problem was, Luca was nearly as captivating as my father was intimidating. Everything about the man screamed ‘stay away, danger’—but did that stop me from daydreaming at every opportunity? Hell, no. I was drawn to the cool control Luca exercised over himself, and likely everything in his life. Girls should be drawn to men who are sweet and respectful, not controlling and domineering. He made me nervous, but in a good way—as if being the sole focus of his attention could make the world disappear. Nothing else would matter, only him. It was a terrifying and intoxicating prospect. I stepped into a crosswalk as I made my way back from lunch, absorbed in my thoughts, and was suddenly yanked back into a hard body as a small delivery truck whizzed by right where I’d been about to walk. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I turned wide-eyed to look back at my savior. Luca glared down at me, eyes blazing with fury. “What … how?” I was too disoriented to formulate a clear thought. “What the f**k, Alessia? You almost walked straight into traffic,” he growled down at me, hands still gripping my arms. “I was distracted,” I replied, still breathless from the incident. I glanced down at his hands, and they slowly released me, but neither of us stepped apart. He looked up at the buildings above us as he took in a deep breath, some of the tension softening from his features. “You have to be more careful,” he chided when he brought his gaze back down to me. “I haven’t gotten my date yet.” I coughed out a laugh and took a small step back, relieved he had lightened the mood. “I’d hate to disappoint you by getting killed.” I sobered and dropped my chin, feeling suddenly shy. “Thank you for saving me.” Luca stepped forward nonchalantly, not letting me put space between us, and slowly lowered his mouth to my ear. My breath hitched as he drew closer, his cheek mere inches from mine. Who was this man, and why did he affect me so profoundly? Just his nearness rendered me incapable of breath or thought. “Thank me by coming to dinner tonight.” The low timbre of his voice resonated against my sensitive skin and brought on a wave of goosebumps down the length of my arms. How could I say no? The man had saved my life by pulling me out of the street before I was flattened. I could tell myself the only polite thing to do was to accept his invitation, but the reality was, I wanted more than anything to have dinner with him, regardless of customary civilities. I wanted to know this fortress of a man who exuded practiced control. I wanted to know what made him tick and why he was the way he was. I wanted to be the sole recipient of his focused attention. “Alright,” I breathed out as he pulled away and met my eyes. “But I’m driving myself, just tell me when and where.” His lips curved with a hint of amusement. “Del Posto on 6 th—I’ll reserve a table for us at seven.” I nodded and glanced toward my building. “You headed back?” “Just leaving.”