Chapter 48 I'M NOT READY FOR THIS CONVERSATION
••Luciana••
On the drive out, I pulled my phone from my bag, already opening my browser.
“Let me check places around here,” I said, scrolling.
Roman glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “Trust me on this one.”
I paused, then looked at him.
“Hm okay,” I replied, letting the phone drop back into my bag. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
As he drove, I found myself watching him instead of the city lights.
His left arm rested casually on the car door, relaxed like he owned the night, his other hand steady on the wheel, his face sharp and unreadable, jaw set, his green murky eyes focused forward. The Polo he was wearing clung tight to his body, revealing his muscular structure.
Why does he suddenly look so hot!
The thought startled me. I swallowed and looked away, pretending to admire the passing buildings, the neon signs, the blur of movement outside the window.
Then I felt his gaze on me. It lingered long enough to make my skin prickle. I turned toward him slowly
“Why are you smiling?” I asked.
"Nothing," he answered, and just returned his attention to the road like he hadn’t been caught.
That was when my stomach betrayed me with a loud, unmistakable growl which filled the car.
Oh no!
I grabbed my stomach quickly. “That was nothing,” I said, too fast.
He nodded once, expression neutral.
Then it growled again. This time louder, and more dramatic.
He chuckled softly. “Guess our princess needs some food,” he teased.
I groaned. “Well I haven’t had a proper meal,” I said defensively. “I’ve just been snacking.”
“All day?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, then added quietly, “I stayed in.”
“For me,” he said, not as a question.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I haven’t eaten either,” he said.
I turned to him. “Then shouldn’t we eat before getting drinks?”
He nodded, “That was already the plan.”
“Obviously,” I said, lifting my chin. “I can’t drink on an empty stomach. I respect my body.”
He laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A few minutes later, we arrived there. The place stopped me in my tracks. New York truly had beautiful places, but this one felt different.
I stared for a moment.
“Wow,” I breathed.
Roman watched my reaction with quiet satisfaction.
“How did you even find this place?” I asked.
He smirked, “You agree I made a good choice, right?”
“That wasn’t the question,” I shot back.
He shook his head slightly, lips twitching like he was holding back a thought. “I came here once,” he said.
“With who?” I asked immediately.
“Let’s take that table,” he replied instead, smoothly changing the subject.
I narrowed my eyes but followed him. He guided me with a hand at my back to a corner table, tucked away just enough to feel private, positioned perfectly to overlook the room and the view outside where the sun dipped low, painting the sky in deep oranges and gold.
From here, we could see everything. Yet it felt like no one could see us. I liked that more than I should.
As we sat down, I was still looking around when Roman spoke. “The view is nice, isn't it?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “It really is.”
He handed me a menu that was already on the table. “So what are you ordering?”
I scanned the page. Then scanned it again.
Why is everything sounding enticing?
The server arrived, smiling politely. “Are you ready to order?”
“I’m still checking,” I said, a little embarrassed.
Roman ordered water, then added another drink for me.
“She needs something gentle,” he said, glancing at me.
I rolled my eyes.
“You could just order everything on the menu if you’re that unsure, princess,” he added.
“You haven’t ordered either,” I pointed out.
“I’m waiting for you.”
I sighed dramatically, “I want the steak,” I said. “But I also want the mac and cheese. And the truffle fries look like they’ll ruin my life.”
He smiled, resting his chin on his hand. “Hard choices.”
“I don’t trust myself to choose,” I muttered.
“Then don’t.”
I pouted, “Fine. I’ll take the steak, truffle fries, and the drink he ordered..”
The server nodded, amused, and left.
I traced the rim of my glass absentmindedly as we waited, the hum of the place settling into my bones.
“So,” Roman said, leaning back slightly, eyes on me, “how did you grew up with your brothers? They look full of trouble."
I smiled before I could stop myself. “Unfortunately, you are right about the trouble."
“Sure,” he smirked.
“They are very disturbing," I replied. “And loud. Matteo my best friend and Antonio my brother. I was the only girl, which meant I was either protected like glass or dragged into trouble.”
“Which one?” he asked.
“Both,” I said. “I followed them everywhere. Sports centres, abandoned buildings, places I had no business being.”
“You didn’t stay home and play it safe,” he noted.
“I tried once,” I said. “Got bored in ten minutes. I’d rather climb a fence and break a nail than sit still.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “You are surely not one who knows how to stay still.”
“I don’t,” I admitted. “I liked being outside. I liked noise. I liked feeling like part of something.”
He watched me for a moment, like he was filing that away.
“Did they let you win?” he asked.
“Never,” I said quickly. “If I cried, they laughed. If I fell, they told me to get up. I learned fast.”
“Sounds rough.”
“It was fun,” I corrected. “Messy, but fun.”
He nodded slowly. “Fun is overrated.”
I frowned. “You never had it?”
“Not the way you’re describing,” he said.
I tilted my head. “What was it like then?”
His fingers tapped once on the table, then stopped.
“Training,” he said simply.
“When you were young too?” I asked.
“From when I could stand without shaking,” he replied. “Balance, discipline, obedience.”
I blinked. “You’re serious.”
“My father doesn’t joke about preparation,” he said. “He taught me early that mercy is a weakness you can’t afford.”
“That’s…” I hesitated. “That’s a lot for a child.”
“It wasn’t presented as a choice,” he said calmly. “I was told who I was before I knew what I wanted.”
I searched his face. “No games? No sneaking out? No trouble for the sake of it?”
He shook his head once. “Mistakes were corrected. Immediately.”
My chest tightened. “Did you ever hate him for it?”
He looked away briefly, then back at me. “Hate requires time. I was too busy surviving.”
The words landed heavier than he probably intended.
Silence stretched, not awkward, just full.
“So,” I said quietly, trying to lighten it, “you never chased ice cream trucks?"
“I learned how to disarm someone, how to handle a knife, how to defend myself." He replied.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “That’s not normal, Roman.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it made me effective.”
I studied him. “Would you raise your children the same way?"
“No,” he said firmly. “They’ll know choice before duty, and strength without cruelty.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest at that. I opened my mouth to say more, but that was when the weight of the conversation caught up with me, when his gaze lingered a second too long, like he was seeing past me, past now.
“What about you?” he asked softly. “You said once you wouldn’t want children that are like me. That still means you think about them.”
My throat tightened.
I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of my pulse, my heat, the direction this was going.
My heart raced.
Children. Future. Us. I'm not ready for this conversation.
“I need the restroom,” I said, standing too quickly.
Roman’s eyes followed me. “Luci—”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, already moving away, my cheeks burning as I escaped before the question could root itself deeper.