Chapter 5
5
LUCA
C elia’s father was convinced I wasn’t needed on the premises at night, given his security system. I thought the real problem was he was always waiting for a coup, and he didn’t trust anyone but his family around him when he had to sleep.
I wasn’t sure he could even trust them, but hey, I wasn’t his bodyguard. I’d save his life if I got the chance, because that would help win his trust. But the image of him getting knifed in the back by Royal, or hell, Celia, was a good one.
And so it was morning before I could get back past the gates. I checked that Celia was alive and well, then began doing a round of the premises.
When I came back, Mal was in a meeting with his accountant, because even crime has a boring as shit side.
“The princess is looking for you,” one of the men loitering outside Mal’s door to give his report told me.
“Is that so?” I didn’t like hearing anyone call her princess . But I was intrigued. Why was she seeking me out?
I turned, looking for Celia and found her just coming in from outside. Her cheeks were pink, her hair mussed from the wind, and her fitted hoodie and leggings showed off her curves.
“Luca.” Her soft voice sounded so good when she said my name. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, her diamond earring winking at me. They were so big anyone would assume they were fake, if they didn’t know the Carmichael family. “Good morning.”
That kind of wealth helped me settle back down when just my name on her lips had made my dick hard.
She hadn’t come looking for me because she wanted to see me.
“What do you need?”
Her chin lifted, as if my tone had triggered some programming inside her. Imperious princess mode, activated .
After all, she’d looked right through me for all these past months, as if I were nothing but furniture. She’d find out how much she should have been paying attention to me soon.
“I’d like to go out to lunch today.”
I scoffed. I wasn’t risking her life—and mine—on her need for mimosas in fresh surroundings.
She went on as if I hadn’t expressed any opinion. “And I wanted to check in with you. To see if that might work or if it’s too dangerous after last night.”
I studied her, and her striking gaze met mine.
“Let’s have a cup of coffee and discuss ground rules,” I said. “Then we can talk about leaving the house.”
She stiffened slightly, but nodded. Clearly, she did not like the idea of being told what to do. But also, she clearly wasn’t stupid.
She led the way to the kitchen. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee somehow filled the cold, palatial room, and she took down two cups.
I watched her, slightly amused, as she poured me a cup of coffee. Was she trying to get on my good side? Because Celia Carmichael was infamously bratty. Her cat fight with one of the other mafia daughters, Moriah Dempsey, had almost brought the two families to war.
“How do you like your coffee?” she asked in that sweet, soft voice. God, I could listen to her read a fucking phone book.
“Black.”
“Isn’t drinking black coffee a sign of psychopathy?”
“Isn’t mocking your bodyguard a sign of stupidity?”
I’d been teasing, but she seemed to flounder slightly as she busied herself adding cream to her coffee. Then she returned the cream to one of the three fancy glass-front fridges that lined the wall.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked me, sweet as pie, sweeping one hand toward the long counter.
What I’d like to do suddenly came to mind in a vivid image of laying her out on that countertop. I’d like to pull down those leggings so I could get my mouth on her pussy and shake her out of her cold, self-possessed routine.
“I’d like you to listen.” My voice came out stern, although I was annoyed with myself. The woman’s body undid me in ways it should not.
She smiled at me and raised her coffee as if in a toast. “I am.”
“Good. One, if you step out of the house, it will be with me.”
“Company,” she said. “That’ll be delightful.”
Most people did not find my company delightful , and I wasn’t sure she would either.
“Two, you’ll only go to venues I’ve approved…when absolutely necessary. I don’t plan to get killed protecting you because you want a mimosa or to browse Sephora.”
She fixed me with a look, as if I were being needlessly offensive, as if this conversation hadn’t begun with her wanting to go to lunch the day after she was almost kidnapped. “And how long should I expect to be under house arrest?”
“Until this situation is over.”
Her eyes widened. “Luca. I can’t stay in this house and never leave.”
“It’s a hard life,” I responded dryly.
“I’m willing to follow your rules,” she said.
“Generous of you.”
“I want to be alive…and free.” She raised her gaze to meet mine. “I’m taking the threat of being kidnapped very seriously. But I also do have to leave this house sometimes, Luca. I have responsibilities as my father’s daughter.”
As I considered that, she added, “No Sephora. I promise. Only essential trips for either my role as Mal Carmichael’s daughter or maybe the occasional small trip for my sanity?”
She raised two fingers to indicate how small. Expensive rings, worth more than anything I owned, glittered on her long, narrow fingers.
God, I wanted to punish her almost as much as I wanted to protect her.
I also wanted to see those delicate fingers wrapped around my cock, to feel the bump of her rings and her smooth palm sliding up and down my length.
I shook my head, shaking off the fantasy.
“I’m not stupid. I want to follow your rules,” she told me. “But I also can’t stay in this house.”
Her imperious tone bled over into pleading, and she almost whispered the words this house .
I’d heard rumors from the other men about how Mal handled his daughter’s failures. Then, a few months ago, I’d finally worked my way up into being one of his favorite lackeys. Mal had sent me off on an enforcement mission one day as a pale-faced Celia and a smirking Amato had passed me to enter the study.
I’d had to stick to my plan. Besides, what was I going to do, take Celia away from her mean daddy at gunpoint? There was no way to be her knight in shining armor.
And I didn’t want to be the hero anyway.
I’d rather play a more interesting role in her story.
“Tell me what you’re planning,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. She thought she’d won a victory.
But she didn’t even know the war in which she was a pawn.
“It’ll be too easy to predict your appearance there.” I didn’t insult her friend, but I didn’t trust anyone in their circle. “Call your friend. Tell her there’s been a change in venue. I know a place where it’s easier for me to control the entry points and keep an eye on you.”
“Thank you, Luca.” Her voice brimmed with genuine gratitude, and her smile was like the sun coming out.
Maybe the stories about her infamous brattiness weren’t the whole story of Celia.
And even if they were…I didn’t mind the thought of teaching the brat to crawl for me.
CELIA
Luca drove me himself, though he grumbled about it. “We shouldn’t be going anywhere until your new car gets here.”
“My new car?”
“Bulletproof glass. Armored passenger compartment. Military-grade run-flat tires. Self-sealing fuel tank. It has every safety measure under the sun. Your fiancé insisted.”
“He’s not my fiancé.”
He let out a noncommittal hum, as if my marriage to Gabriel were a foregone conclusion.
I didn’t hate the thought of marrying Gabriel Caruso. He might be a bad man, but he was still a safer bet for me than staying in my father’s house. If I hadn’t had a plan already to free myself, I might’ve seized that marriage with my perfectly manicured hands and tried to win him over. He was obviously up to something, but did I care if he stole my father’s kingdom as long as I was by his side?
But I’d had enough of fawning for men for my survival. I wanted to be free, and I had a plan to get there.
“What do you think Gabriel wants from me?” I wondered out loud.
Luca didn’t look away from the road, but his jaw tightened, as if I’d angered him. My stomach flip-flopped. “Aren’t I driving you to see your girlfriend?”
“Yes,” I said, taking his point. He didn’t want to make small talk with me.
Luca worried me. Amato had been cruel, but I’d known how to manage him when it came to still contacting Moriah and the other girls. I needed to figure out Luca.
I glanced over at him again, trying to take in every detail for clues about this man before I risked annoying him more. His dark suit jacket fit him well, though I had no doubt he somehow had multiple weapons concealed beneath it. It hugged his broad shoulders. I wondered if there were tattoos under that immaculate white shirt.
His face in profile was ridiculously handsome. He had high cheekbones, a jaw so sharp it could cut, covered in dark stubble, and lush, pink lips that were the only soft thing about him. His hair was slightly too long, curly and dark, as if he’d been too busy lately to cut it.
I wondered where he’d come from. I always wondered why anyone worked for my father, and even more so, why anyone was signing on to be Royal’s lackey one day when he took the throne from my father. All my father’s men seemed to be addicted to one thing…or several. Cocaine, power, violence, the high life they couldn’t afford.
What was Luca’s addiction that made him desperate enough to risk prison or death for a man who didn’t give a shit about him?
“What’s it like having to wear a suit for work every day?”
For several long seconds, he didn’t respond. Well, he was making it clear he didn’t like small talk.
He waited so long that I’d turned out the window and was surprised when he asked, “What’s it like having to wear a full face of makeup and four-inch heels?”
“Are you admitting this is work?”
“Does it bother you that everyone calls you princess?”
I’d actually loved it when I was a kid. “Princess” was an endearment, after all. My father’s men were kind to me, always making conversation and bringing me small gifts. Trying to curry favor.
Until they realized I didn’t matter, and after that, I was invisible unless my father wanted something.
“No,” I lied. The name Princess reminded me of being stupid and na?ve as a little girl and thinking people actually liked me when they were merely paid to be around me. “I just think it’s unimaginative.”
He let out another hum. “What do you want us to call you?”
“Celia might be nice.”
“No. We need to be able to talk about you without identifying you in case communications are compromised.”
Interesting . “You take this job more seriously than most.”
“Anyone around you now better take it seriously. I’ll kill anyone who fucks up and gets you hurt.” He sounded as if he meant kill literally, not as hyperbole.
“Were you in the military?”
“All you need to know about me is that I’m here now.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Don’t be curious. Be grateful. I’m going to keep you alive.”
It had felt as if we were bantering for a moment, but after that, he only responded to my questions with more hums and grunts.