Chapter 8
ALESSIA
Luca texted that evening, telling me he would pick me up at three the next afternoon.
He also instructed me to dress casually and bring a sweater but refused to tell me where we were going.
I laid awake that night for ages, wondering where we would go, and what Luca would look like in casual clothes.
I hadn’t seen what was under the suit, but his sculpted physique suggested he would look mouthwatering in anything he wore.
Despite a short night of sleep, I woke easily, excitement thrumming in my veins the moment my eyes opened.
Wanting to release some of that pent-up energy, I went to the gym inside my apartment building and ran until my muscles were thoroughly fatigued.
I tried to keep a regular exercise regimen, but lately, I’d been too busy to do anything more than get a run in whenever the chance presented itself.
After the run, I wobbled down the block in my sweat-soaked gear to the corner coffee shop and loaded up on caffeine.
No, it didn’t make sense to wear myself out just to stock up on caffeine, but we can’t all make sense all the time.
Sometimes, we just have to do what feels right, and that first sip of creamer-rich coffee tasted all kinds of right.
On my way back to my building, the sensation of being watched crept into my awareness, just as it had a few days earlier.
Rather than trying to be discrete, I stopped mid-step and spun around, searching the street behind me.
It was early on a Saturday morning, and while the area was far from empty, it was less crowded than it would be later that day.
Not a single person looked suspicious or out of place.
No one startled at my abrupt about-face or even noticed me, for that matter.
I decided to march my crazy ass back home and attempt to chase away my newfound case of paranoia with a shower and some breakfast. The coffee might not help matters, but there was no way I was giving that up.
It was just after ten in the morning when I arrived back home, still hours and hours away from my date, with nothing to do but get myself ready.
I jumped in the shower, ridding my body of all unnecessary hair, scrubbing myself within an inch of my life.
Once I was fully buffed, shaved, shampooed, and conditioned, I started the chore of deciding what to wear.
Dress casually.
Any woman would know that was a joke—there were infinite degrees of casual in a woman’s wardrobe.
A slight heel on a sandal or the thickness of the straps on a blouse could drastically affect the feel of an outfit.
Casual dress to ride the New York Circle Line ferry would be far different than the casual dress for a Broadway matinee.
I tried on dozens of outfits before deciding on mint skinny jeans with a sleeveless floral top and ivory cardigan.
Using the curling wand, I gave my long hair gentle waves, then applied a full face of barely-there makeup.
To my utter dismay, it was only one o’clock when I applied the last strokes of mascara.
I had drawn out my routine as long as humanly possible and still had two hours until Luca would arrive.
The clock ticked by agonizingly slowly. By the time two forty-five rolled around, I had watched an hour of Naked and Afraid, organized my kitchen junk drawer, and cleaned the lint out of my dryer.
When the text came through from Luca saying he was waiting downstairs, relief that the wait was over helped balance out my nerves—until I walked outside and saw Luca leaning against the sleek lines of his black Audie R8.
I’d been right. Luca in a suit was a sight to behold, but Luca in jeans blew a circuit in my brain.
My thoughts dissipated in a puff of smoke before a surge of nerves threatened to overwhelm me.
Luca, on the other hand, was unruffled as always in a casual button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, his jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles.
He was every girl’s spank-bank goldmine.
Images of him standing there like a ruthless god could get me through a year-long dry spell.
“Hey,” I greeted breathlessly, overwhelmed by his beauty.
“Hey yourself, gorgeous.” He pushed away from the car with a smirk, placing a soft kiss on my cheek, then opened the passenger door for me.
I glanced around the interior of the car, appreciating its luxury touches while Luca walked to the driver’s side. He was surprisingly graceful, folding his large frame into the compact sports car.
“Now will you tell me where we’re going?” I asked playfully as he started the car and looked for oncoming traffic.
He grinned without taking his eyes from the road. “We’re going to the beach.”
“Coney Island?” I asked excitedly. “That’s way more romantic than I pegged you for.”
“Are you saying I can’t be romantic?”
“I don’t see you as a flowers and poetry kind of guy, no.”
“Good,” he huffed, unable to hide his smirk. “Because I’m not.”
“I haven’t been to Coney Island in ages, but I loved it when I was growing up.”
“Me too,” he mused. “Did you grow up in the city?”
“Staten Island, so close enough. You?”
“Hoboken.”
“New Jersey, but still practically in the city,” I pointed out more to myself than for his benefit. “Did you like growing up there?”
He glanced over, a hint of darkness clouding his eyes. “I didn’t have the childhood you did. We didn’t have much with my father gone, so I spent a lot of time on the streets.”
Hoping he didn’t think I was prying, I continued to ask questions, trying to sate my unending curiosity. “How did you end up where you are now?” The odds weren’t great for a kid who started out on the streets to become a successful banker.
He came to a stop at a light and gave me a long, hard look that sent a shiver down my spine. “After my mother died, I was adopted into a new family. They instilled a work ethic and taught me how to survive.”
Caving to the pressure of his piercing gaze, I dropped my eyes to where his hand rested on the gearshift.
His knuckles bore the telltale remnants of scars.
How had I not noticed before? My chest ached as I wondered what Luca had gone through during those years on the streets.
My hand reached of its own accord to ghost my fingertips along the mutilated remnants of his past. The car lurched forward when the light turned green, snapping me out of the morose spell I’d fallen under.
I quickly pulled my hand back into my lap and turned my gaze out the window.
“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “I realized this morning that I don’t even know your last name.”
The lines of his jaw softened with the change in subject. “Romano.”
Luca Romano.
It suited him. The name commanded respect without being flashy or overbearing.
“Aren’t you going to ask mine?” I prodded.
“Alessia Genovese—I came to your office, remember?”
“You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you?” I sighed, dropping my head back on the headrest. “I feel like you know everything about me already, and I hardly know you at all.”
“I like to be on my game, yes, but there’s still plenty I don’t know about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like whether you scream when you come,” Luca offered in a lust-filled rumble.
That was unexpected. His comment had rendered me speechless, but my body had reacted instantly—nipples pebbling, my heart thrumming in my chest.
“And if I don’t?” I asked softly.
“Honey, what I’ve got planned for you, you won’t have a choice.” His eyes cut to mine, his lips pulling back in a wicked grin.
Turns out, he did make me scream … by forcing me on the Cyclone rollercoaster.
Once we got to the boardwalk, we rode a dozen different rides, which all looked far more dangerous than I remembered.
The Ferris wheel was the only one he didn’t have to drag me onto.
It probably wasn’t any safer since it looked far older than the others, but the slow rotation gave the illusion of safety, and I’d really wanted to see the area from up above.
The sun had begun to close in on the horizon, not quite setting but low enough to cast long shadows across the landscape. “The city is beautiful from up here,” I absently noted as we took our turn paused at the top of the wheel.
Luca draped his arm behind me and pulled me in close against his hard body. “I love this city—can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“I think when you’re from New York, it becomes a part of you. The diversity and opportunities, anything you could ever want is right here—why would anyone want to leave?” When I stopped speaking, I realized I could feel the weight of his stare.
Luca’s fathomless gaze searched my face, for what, I was unsure.
He brought his hand from my shoulder up to the back of my head, weaving his fingers into my hair, and pulled me in for a tender, sensual kiss.
As the car slowly rocked, we tasted each other in an achingly sweet kiss.
Lust began to stir deep in my belly but was doused when the ride jerked back into motion, startling us away from one another and sending me into a fit of giggles.
Luca shook his head playfully. “Reminds me of getting caught making out in my bedroom as a kid.”
“You fooled around in your house when your mom was home?” I couldn’t even comprehend doing that.
“I did a lot more than that,” he said with a fiendish grin. “I was hell on wheels. My poor ma never had a chance.”
“What did she do when she caught you?” I was pretty sure my dad would have locked me in a basement until I was fifty.
“She’d chase off the girl, then slap me upside the head while she cursed me out in Italian. She would spit fire once she got going; it was impressive, really.”
“Do you know Italian?” I asked in surprise.
“Nah. My dad didn’t speak it, so ma didn’t use it much—she was more Italian than him. Your family speak it?”