CHAPTER ELEVEN
EDEN
Butterfly,
Rest and read. I’m told that these books are perfect for a day in bed.
I’ll be home later this evening, but Allison will bring lunch to you at noon.
Yours,
Luca
The note was propped against a stack of books on the nightstand when I woke up.
My name was scrawled across the front fold, though he’d switched to his random nickname for me inside the short letter.
Flipping it closed, I set it aside and studied the colorful titles he left me.
A mix of romantic comedies, fantasy romance, and some historical romance thrown in for good measure.
Someone else around here is a bookworm, too, apparently.
“That was thoughtful of him,” I say to Beanie who is sprawled out on the wooden dresser across the room.
I don’t even know how she got up that high.
Must have been one heck of a leap. “But no matter how thoughtful he is, we’re not falling for his charm.
All the books in the world, catered meals, and—” I glance around the elegantly appointed room—“luxurious accommodations won’t change our opinion of him if he doesn’t release us. ”
A slow blink is the only response I get from Beanie.
Yeah, she doesn’t care where she lays her head as long as her belly is full.
I am not so easily swayed.
My stomach growls as there’s a knock on the door, and the smell of crispy bacon wafts in the air. Another protest of hunger from my belly.
Fine, I’ll eat, but I won’t be happy about it.
***
A FEW DAYS LATER
“Special delivery.” Luca strides into the bedroom with a drink in one hand and a paper bag in the other. A familiar pink logo decorates the outsides of each, and an aggrieved sigh falls from my lips as I close the book I was reading by the window.
This room is enormous. Besides the massive bed, nightstands, and dresser, it also houses a cute little nook complete with two oversized, comfy chairs, a waist-high bookshelf, and a wooden coffee table.
Honestly, the entire setup from the main sleeping area to the walk-in closet and bathroom suite could hold my entire one-bedroom apartment. All it’s missing is a kitchen.
“You went to Baby Cakes?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You love their toasted marshmallow lattes and mini fruit tarts, so I figured I’d bring you a treat, since you won’t be able to visit them for a while.” He sets the drink and bag on the coffee table with a grin.
“Define awhile .”
“Until you’re healed and my wife.” Luca settles into the chair next to mine, and his sapphire gaze leaves a trail of heat down my body as he catalogs my messy bun, borrowed plush robe, and ratty pajamas.
Normally, I’d care more about my appearance, especially in front of someone as attractive as Luca, but my brain demanded I not give in to those urges.
Luca doesn’t deserve to see me prettied up for his benefit, not when he’s holding me captive.
“We’re not getting married.” The denial comes automatically. It’s what I say every time he brings up our impending nuptials.
He’s let me talk to my parents as long as I don’t mention my kidnapping and subsequent stay at Blackchapel Manor, and they haven’t said a word about me marrying Luca rather than Fabian.
Reaching forward for my drink, I wince at the pain in my ribs. Luca immediately notices and frowns. He grabs the cold coffee and lifts it to my lips.
I lightly swat his hand away. “I can manage by myself, thanks.” The bruises leftover from my ordeal with Fabian’s thugs are healing to an ugly yellowish color, but internally, it feels like I was punched just yesterday.
“You’re hurt. Let me help you,” Luca cajoles, shaking the icy drink. Reluctantly, I sip from the straw and swallow the sugary treat.
How did he even know this was my favorite flavor concoction?
***
MORE DAYS LATER
Credits start scrolling across the computer screen, and Luca sits up to press the spacebar to pause the video.
“Another episode?” he asks. Like it’s another casual Tuesday night. Like we’re a real couple watching TV in bed.
Covering a yawn, I shake my head. “I’m too tired, and this isn’t a show you can just zone out of. There’s too much you can miss.”
Luca had recommended we binge-watch something my second night at the manor. After a ton of searching, we finally settled on a historical drama mini-series. The episodes were long and elaborate but definitely worth the time to untangle all the webs the characters wove.
Under different circumstances, I would have loved enjoying something so basic with Luca. He fit my idea of the perfect boyfriend, one who didn’t mind my commentary during the show, and who even added his own wry observations.
But Luca isn’t my boyfriend.
And nothing about this situation is normal.
The laptop snaps closed, and Luca rolls from the bed with a sigh.
At first, I thought he might insist on sharing the bed with me, since this is his room judging by his clothes in the closet and shaving accoutrements in the bathroom.
But he’s never pushed for more. He leaves me alone each night like a gentleman.
It’s unnerving—a jailer with a moral code.
Of course, maybe he just doesn’t want to hear my squeaks of pain every time I toss and turn in the bed searching for a bruise-free, comfortable position to sleep in.
“Do you need anything before I go? Water?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks,” I mutter, avoiding his careful perusal.
“Alright, if you change your mind, you have my number. Don’t hesitate to text or call. I’m just across the hall.” His fingers comb through his hair, ruffling the thick strands, then he steps forward to drop a kiss on the top of my head.
I freeze at the contact.
This is new.
“ Buonanotte, mia piccola farfalla. Prova a sognarmi, perché io sogno sempre te. [2]”
I’m still puzzling over what he said and processing the unexpected show of affection when he exits the room.
Nope, not normal at all.