Chapter 49 CHANEL BAGS
••Roman••
While I was left alone, I thought about her. This was the second time she had ended this conversation abruptly. She clearly did not want to talk about it, and that alone was not the problem. The reason was.
Children.
Luciana was sharp mouthed enough to challenge me on anything else, she had never been one to shrink back or choose silence when she felt wronged. She fought with words like weapons. So this was not fear or discomfort. This was choice. She had decided that this topic was a door she would not open for me.
I replayed the moment in my head without trying to soften it. The way her fingers had tightened around the glass when I asked. The way her smile had stalled for half a breath too long. The way she stood so quickly, already reaching for an excuse before the words could fully settle between us. I had seen hesitation before in negotiations, in men about to lie, in people about to run. This was the same thing.
When Luciana finally came back, she avoided making eye contact with me. “Sorry,” she said casually, already reaching for her drink as if nothing had occurred. She settled down and immediately focused on her meal, slicing into her steak with a precision that seemed more about distraction than hunger. It was intentional—a barrier. I observed her in silence, her eyelashes cast down, her posture poised yet tense.
About halfway through, she looked up. “Why aren’t you eating much?” she inquired. “You should really make sure to eat well now. We still have places to visit.”
Places. I questioned what sort of places she intended to drag me to, but I kept my mouth shut. She took another bite, then nodded in satisfaction. “I might not be able to forget this incredible flavor.”
I nearly smiled. Nearly.
Once our meal was finished, the server returned to ask if we wanted dessert. Luciana dismissed him with a wave. “We’ll have that somewhere else.”
That “somewhere else” turned out to be a beach bar she had discovered on Instagram. Of course it was. She wanted to make the most of the trip, she had said earlier, and apparently that included collecting locations like souvenirs.
I watched her scroll as we drove, legs crossed, humming softly to herself.
At the bar, I ordered drinks. She leaned over the counter, eyes bright. “Strong,” she told the bartender. “The strongest you have.”
I turned to her. “No.”
She smiled sweetly. “Yes.”
“You cannot take strong alcohol."
“I absolutely can.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
She leaned closer. “Roman, if you don’t let me drink in peace, I will become unbearable.”
That was a threat, not a promise.
"Fine, but you'll only take a little." I retreated.
I ordered the strong alcohol just to let myself breathe. We sat by the beach, the night air cool against my skin, the sound of waves rolling in steadily like they knew something we didn’t. Luciana stretched her legs out in front of her, kicked her shoes off, and sighed.
“This,” she said, lifting her glass, “is the perfect serenity I needed after the recent events.”
“Hm,” I snorted.
She ignored me and took a shot. Then another. Then another. By the fourth, she was singing. Loudly, and most importantly, Off key.
She was singing in the Sicilian language so i didn't understand what the song was all about.
“Luci, that's okay.” I said.
“I am inspired,” she corrected.
She started talking then. Talking without brakes. First, about her first boyfriend who cried when she broke up with him. Then, about how she once dreamed of owning a bookstore by the sea even though she hated sand. About her birthday when Antonio pranked her with a box full of spiders and she threw the cake at him in retaliation. About how she wanted a life where she could do what she wants at her own free will.
I listened to it all. She's clearly under the influence of the alcohol.
This is the person who claimed she can hold her alcohol.
Then she frowned suddenly and pointed at her bag. “I need a new one.”
“No,” I said calmly. “You need water.”
“I need a new bag,” she insisted. “This one feels old.”
“I will get you one tomorrow.”
She shook her head hard. “Tonight.”
“It is almost 11p.m." I stated.
“And?”
“What is wrong with you,” I muttered.
She crossed her arms. “You promised me compensation.”
“I never said I wouldn't buy it, but just not right now. Most stores would be closed by now."
“We can go to the few that'll still be opened.” she argued.
She was beginning to attract attention. Arguing too loudly, and gesturing wildly. I stood. “We are leaving.”
We ended up at a boutique that was still open, Luciana immediately gravitated toward two Chanel bags. One black and One red.
“I can’t choose,” she said, clutching both like children.
“They’re both perfect.”
“Pick one for me."
“No.”
She held them up. “Black is elegant. Red is dangerous.”
“Buy the black.” I suggested. So we can leave here in time.
“But red matches my mood.”
“You do not have a mood. You have alcohol.”
She pouted. “Help me.”
“I do not care about bags.”
“That is not helpful.”
She turned to the attendant. “Which one would you pick?”
The attendant glanced at me like a hostage seeking permission.
“Pack both then,” I snapped.
Luciana gasped. “See? That’s love.”
By the time we reached the hotel, she refused to get out of the car.
“I am comfortable here," she said, eyes closed.
“You cannot stay here." I replied. She's begining to get on my nerves.
“I am resting.”
I sighed and lifted her. She looped her arms around my neck instinctively. As I walked toward the room, she stirred.
She opened her eyes slowly. “Roman?”
“Yes.”
“What is this you are doing?” she asked softly. “Why am I on your back?”
I stopped. Her tone was clear, and confused.
My heart skipped.