Cara's pov
The next morning, I miraculously got Luca to drop the idea of him finding me a new place. Well, not without promising him I'd find one myself and move out as soon as possible.
Nonetheless, it was still a rare moment of win even though a familiar suspicious inkling had settled in my mind, analyzing his easy capitulation amidst my triumphant display.
"Fine?" I had asked.
"Fine." He had reiterated, his eyes blank and unreadable.
Mine had narrowed into slits.
The Luca I know would have bundled me to an apartment of his choosing–could even be his–and hold me prisoner. My opinions be damned.
I had every reason to doubt his sudden show of acquiescence. He even gave me two days off from Rico's, although I stubbornly told him that I'd only be absent for a single day alone. That, he'd pretended not to have heard.
Instead, he focused on trying to whip up something edible from the sorry state of my fridge and boy did he succeed.
I had gobbled up omelet and hash browns mix, licking my plate clean. He was the perfect candidate for that show where people are put in the wild to cook with the least available food stock.
I found it impressive and equally intimidating how near flawless he was. He'd had time to perfect cooking in the midst of his busy and great life of training to be a leader and becoming one. It made me like him more than I'd like to admit.
Thank God all of his shortcomings resided in his personality which fed my excuse of hating him even though hate is a word I no longer associated with him.
He had to leave right after, off to the necessary tasks and preparations that were the consequences of yesterday's disaster.
I thought about how the families of the victims must feel, how heartbroken and shattered the attack left them after taking their loved ones away. It reminded me of the time I lost my dad. I knew what it was to deal with the black, gaping hole that was grief. I could empathize on all levels and I genuinely wished them strength because they'd need it.
I spent my free time watching crappy telenovelas, not at all surprised to find out that Camilla and Valentino had broken up again, with the other woman –see coworker– now in the picture.
I took it easy with my judgy comments about Camilla though. I might be many things but not a shameless hypocrite. In fact, I didn't expect to relate to her on a primal level. She might just be the realest character on television.
Camilla, the bad bitch, got her revenge by sleeping with Valentino's hot and rich boss and it was a satisfying sight watching the cheating scum nurse his shattered ego.
I cheered Camilla, raising my bottle of soda at the small TV. I've decided to temporarily quit drinking alone at home because my PTSD from drunk-texting Luca was still very much prevalent.
"Cheers to getting back at cheaters!" I hooted, trying not to acknowledge the shitty feeling poking at me. At least Camilla could get her revenge, I'd somewhat tried that only to get punished with hot, humbling sex. On the second occasion, I had nearly gotten a man killed.
Unfortunately for me, Luca was not Valentino who would throw a tantrum and cry.
I took an aggressive chug of my soda, the fuzzy, citric taste becoming bitter in my mouth.
My brooding was interrupted by the jolting sound of my ringtone. I cursed, I really needed to change it to something less likely to give me a heart attack.
Surprise quelled my annoyance when I saw who was calling. I swiped on answer.
"Aren't you supposed to be getting railed at the moment?"
Gina giggled into my ear, her voice coy when she replied. "Well I have already. A couple of times even." I could hear her wide smile. "Dante just stepped out to go get us a wine refill. And I just thought to call."
My grin was knowing. "You want to chat about it."
Gina sighed, not bothering to deny it. "Oh Cara! You didn't tell me it was this good. The mammas in the church lied, s e x is the best thing that could ever happen. I felt like I was in heaven, Cara."
I stayed silent, letting her go on and on with her spiel, fully aware that she just needed to babble about it.
"And Dante, oh my god Cara, my husband is the best. He was so gentle and sweet about it, making sure I was okay at all times." She giggled again. "Plus, he's so hot! When he took off his shirt for the first time-"
Okay, time out.
"TMI, Gina." I chided with a laugh. "Trust me, you really don't want to let your stepsister know how your husband looks without a shirt."
A soft chuckle left her. "Right, sorry." Her voice sounded muffled as if she was eating something. "Back to acceptable details, Dante has been the most romantic. He even cooks, I never thought made men could do that. My father doesn't and I'm sure Luca doesn't know how to as well."
It was on the tip of my mouth to correct her but I caught myself. She would obviously find it weird that her brother cooked breakfast for me. I didn't want her getting any ideas.
However, I could help but blush as the memory of Luca's large body moving about as he prepared breakfast in my tiny kitchen.
That was the closest to "romantic" we had been in our tornado of a relationship.
I forced myself to focus on Gina's ramblings.
"Dante had been so intentional with me and I know he's trying to get my mind off the disaster that was our wedding reception." She paused, leaving me to a short rustling noise before she spoke again. "But I'm happy. Very much happy that even yesterday's event cannot kill it."
My mind wandered back to what I overheard last night and my good nature plunged into a darkness. "Gina, about the Russians-"
Another rustling noise, I was beginning to think it was the bedsheets. "Hi." A male drawled in the background.
Gina cleared her throat. "Um… sorry Cara. I have to go now." Her tone hushed into a delighted whisper. "Dante is back."
I let out a sigh when the line went dead. It was good that I hadn't been able to tell her. She didn't need to be bothered about anything while on her honeymoon or even after it. I'd just hold on to the knowledge alone. Gina didn't need to know about my chilling discovery.
I focused on my TV shows, spending the rest of the day on them.
Luca didn't return to my apartment like I hoped he would but our long dirty texts made up for it.
He was quite the sexter and the moisture I had between my legs when we finally said our goodnights was proof. I touched myself after that and I imagined him doing it instead, his voice whispering obscene things in my ears as he rocked my world.
I resumed work the next day, feeling like the main character as everyone fussed over me like I was a cancer survivor. Apparently, the story Luca fed my co-workers was that I caught "a raging flu" and had been quite "delirious" from the fever that came along.
Not only was the man a cold blooded killer, he was one with a vivid imagination. I guess it was a necessary requirement if he had to do what he did to men that dared to cross him.
"So how do you feel now?" Diana asked for like the fifteenth time. It was like the girl thought I could suddenly go into a relapse any second from now.
"I'm good." Was my reply, yet again.
"You don't need to rest or anything?"
Oh my god!
I was going to strangle Luca when I saw him. I was getting really tired of pretending to be a recuperating flu patient.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Really." I assured Diana again but she, along with the rest of the girls, didn't take my word for it and I spent the rest of my shift being treated like an invalid.
The journey back home was another weird experience. Luca had doubled my stalkers and they no longer pretended not to follow me by giving me a considerable berth. It was really awkward walking home in the midst of eight large, mute men I didn't know.
At least I knew Sergio from my near rape incident and Lanky –I should ask him for his real name– from the luncheon incident. I tried to strike a conversation with them but both of them completely ignored me.
"Assholes." I muttered under my breath.
However, Lanky heard me and I didn't miss the slight upturn of his lips.
A scheming aspiration filled me, so that was how it is. I vowed to make all of them my best buddies in three months. Charming men was my speciality and they didn't stand a single chance. I was going to get rid of the stuff formality they reserved for me.
"Three months," I said to them when we got to my door, ignoring their collective look of confusion as I entered my apartment, immediately getting busy with preparing for bed.
Luca didn't show up again but he contacted me, this time via call.
"You went to work." He said the moment I answered the call, the words sounding more of a statement than an accusation.
I put the call on the loudspeaker and got busy with drying out my hair. "I told you I wasn't going to take two days off."
"So you did. Have I told you that you're stubborn as a mule?"
A grin spread across my face. I caught myself in the vanity mirror and quickly killed it. I looked like a silly goose. "I think you have once… oh I remember the time you drove me home after my series of failed job hunting."
"Well, I'm telling you again."
My brush made a clattering noise as I picked it from the cluster on my vanity.
"What are you doing?"
"Brushing my hair."
A pause. "I wish I was doing it instead." He said, then the pitch of his tone dropped lower. "Along with other things."
Heat ignited in my belly and my grip on the brush grew shaky. My throat was dry when I spoke. "I wish you were here too."
Luca said nothing and I knew his eyes were growing dark with desire wherever he was.
"Merda," he cursed before speaking again. "I can't wait to wrap up this business and come to you-"
All my nerve endings hummed at the words 'come to you.'
"-when I finally do, I'm going to fuck you until you're unable to walk."
My breath picked up and so did my heartbeat. The coolness my shower provided me disappeared instantaneously as a rush of heat flooded my pores.
I couldn't speak as desire was lodged in my throat. Luca sensed my temporary incapability to continue the conversation and the low chuckle he let out went straight to the wet heat between my legs.
"Goodnight, bambina." He drawled. "Until the next time we met."
Hours later I was still focused on that single promise, a dull throbbing ache permanently present in my private center. I was so fixated that even the thoughts of Russian assassins breaking in to erase my existence did nothing to quell my feral state.
And what a good thing it was.