Forever Lies

11

5 Alessia After throwing together some notes sufficient to get me through my morning meeting, I texted my driver to let him know I wouldn’t need a ride after work. Having a driver in the city wasn’t necessary, but it was one of the luxuries I allowed myself to indulge in. Plus, it had been one area in which my father had been unyielding—he didn’t want any of us girls living alone in the city without a driver to get us around at night. I had no issue with using a driver, but on that beautiful spring evening, I decided to walk to the restaurant. It was only a couple blocks from my office, and I needed the fresh air to clear my head before facing Luca. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word. There was a very real chance I would lose myself in him if I wasn’t careful—drown beneath the sheer force of his will and the alluring pull of his magnetic personality. My cheeks heated in the brisk evening air, and there was something else that caused my skin to tingle—something that set me on edge. Had I not been so focused on paying attention to my surroundings, I never would have noticed. It was the feeling of someone was watching me. Perhaps long-ingrained from our prehistoric days, I sensed an awareness of possible danger, a sixth sense that couldn’t be explained. I took a casual glance behind me, scanning the area for signs someone was watching me but saw nothing unusual—no suspicious man in a trench coat, skulking behind me or sketchy thugs eyeballing me from a distance. The city street looked like it did on any other evening, so I tried to calm my overactive imagination. Assuring myself it was likely just my anxiety over having dinner with Luca that had me worked up, I tucked my chin and continued toward the restaurant. The place he’d chosen was an elegant Italian bistro nestled in downtown Manhattan. Despite the soaring ceilings, the room felt cozy, thanks to the rich wood accents and dimmed lighting. It was the type of place you might find a politician or movie star dining—a place that discretely catered to important people. If I hadn’t been used to such establishments my entire life, I might have been unnerved by the place. As it was, I had been to Del Posto before and was well acquainted with the experience. I arrived before Luca, but he entered only minutes after. I hadn’t had the wherewithal to admire how he looked in his black suit at either of our earlier exchanges—both having been too intense to allow for a casual perusal of his suited form. The sight of him crossing the foyer toward me liquified my insides. The fabric of his suit pulled taut where his biceps flexed against the sleeves, and the broad expanse of his shoulders over his narrow waist made my mouth go dry. As if he knew the effect he had on me, a wolfish grin spread across his face. “I may not have said it earlier today, but you look stunning.” He took my hand and pressed his lips to the back, just below my knuckles, lingering briefly. The sensation edged my heartrate up from a gentle thrum to a fluttering frenzy. “Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself.” Not releasing my hand, he led me to the hostess station where the young woman on duty snapped into motion. “This way, please.” She led us to the back of the restaurant toward a table in the far corner. “I’m impressed you could get a reservation moved on such late notice,” I whispered to Luca. “The owner is a friend of mine,” he murmured near my ear as he helped me into my seat. Blushing at his nearness, I glanced down at the white china place setting. “I guess it pays to have friends in high places.” As soon as he was seated, our server brought waters and took our drink orders. The moment I gave my wine selection, Luca instructed the server to bring a bottle. “That’s not necessary,” I cut in. The young man looked between us, and Luca gave him a stern, raised brow. Without looking back to me, our server scurried off to obtain the bottle. “Do you always get your way?” I asked with amusement. “Quite often, yes.” “And yet you still manage to have friends?” “Having friends is an important part of my business.” “And what business is that?” “Banking.” I tilted my head, looking him over appraisingly. “You don’t strike me as the banker type.” “No?” he mused. “What type do I seem like?” The question was a tricky one. I’d already thought about it after our encounter in the elevator but had come up emptyhanded. His features were so striking, it was hard to think of him as doing anything outside of modeling. Then again, his dark intensity lent itself to positions of power and a job that would require a great deal of drive. “Maybe a pro athlete or an actor?” He took a sip of his freshly poured wine, eyes still bright with amusement. “Nothing so exciting as that, I’m afraid.” “What bank do you work for?” “You probably wouldn’t know it—we’re a relatively small-scale operation.” “Do you like what you do?” He peered at me for long seconds, seemingly weighing his answer. “It’s my life; it’s who I am.” There was silence between us for a moment as his words lingered in the air. It was a bold statement. I could relate because my company was familyowned, but not many other people in my experience felt the same sense of ownership regarding their job. “What about you—what do you do for Triton?” he asked, bringing the discussion back to me. “I work in the marketing department currently.” “And do you enjoy it?” I rolled my eyes playfully. “When my boss isn’t around.” Bringing my glass to my lips, I took a healthy sip of wine. I could feel Luca’s assessing gaze attempt to read between the lines, but I wasn’t going to give him more information. “What is it about your boss you dislike?” I should have known he wouldn’t leave that one alone. What did I tell him without saying too much? I hadn’t told my sisters or anyone but Giada about my boss—I certainly wasn’t going to tell Luca, who I’d only just met. “He’s … bossy, that’s all.” I smiled, hoping to lure him away from the subject.