21. Chapter 21
The image of Luciana, panting and writhing on the poker table, consumed my thoughts. It was so fucking hot, having her cry out my name as she came on my fingers.
I couldn’t believe I had almost taken her innocence on it, the table not even cleared from the last round of poker that had been played. Luciana deserved pure luxury when she lost her virginity to me. Looking back on it, I supposed it was a good thing that the janitor had walked in and disturbed us.
There was a significant age gap between Luciana and me, and I had had been intimate with many women before her. Normally I wouldn’t spare them a second glance after, but with Luciana, things were different. For some reason, I cared about what she thought about me and how she looked at me.
The feeling was foreign.
Today, we were spending time together, lounging in the living room on my day off. Luciana laid back on the sofa, her legs dangling over the arm.
“What do you do for fun, Emilio?” Luciana asked.
I didn’t have “fun.” There wasn’t a lot of extra time in my schedule with my job title. The closest thing to that feeling would be when I relentlessly tortured men, but I couldn’t tell her that.
“Hang out with you,” I said, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. I couldn’t resist teasing her at every chance I got.
She tossed a sofa cushion at me, a move she had pulled countless times now. I always caught them.
“I mean it!”
“I don’t really have time for fun,” I admitted, cracking my knuckles against each other and enjoying the satisfying pops. “I just relax at home and watch TV.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Hm,” she said. “Well, what would you want to do for fun? We have some time today.”
I refrained from telling her my genuine desire of “fun” at this moment. It would involve the two of us, naked, on the bed with me burrowed deeply inside of her.
“I’ve never seen a Broadway show before.”
For years, my parents had promised to take me to a Broadway show. When I was a child, the mere thought of it filled me with excitement and anticipation. But then, the “accident” occurred, and my dream of experiencing a show had long since faded from my mind, a distant memory slipping away into the depths of my subconscious.
“Wait, what? You’ve lived in NYC your entire life and haven’t seen one?” Luciana said, raising herself off the sofa. “We’re going.”
She walked into the bedroom and grabbed her laptop, and I watched her open the site to buy tickets. I refused to let my wife pay for our date, taking the laptop from her. I would never make her pay in our relationship. She tried to get it back, but ultimately relented.
“We’re buying late so they don’t have the best view left,” I said. “But I’ll also see whose arm I can break to get us better seats.”
Luciana hesitated, giving me a nervous glance. “That’s a metaphor, right?”
“Yes,” I lied.
She let out a sigh of relief. “Ok, good.”
I supposed I’d have to rely on bribery. Pulling out my phone, I quickly sent messages to anyone in my contacts who might have connections, promising generous compensation for their help.
Within twenty minutes, I had found premium orchestra seats for that night’s showing of Wicked. I had to pay an obscenely high price to a congressman I knew, but it was worth it to have a nice night with Luciana.
“Found us some better seats,” I said.
“That quick?” Her eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by how quickly I had located them. “How?”
I scooted next to her on the sofa, pressing my body against hers as I leaned in close.
“I have my ways, dear,” I said, giving her a mischievous grin and playfully tapping her nose.
“You’re annoying, you know that?”
Despite her chilly response, her body language betrayed her true feelings. She moved closer, her nose gently brushing against my cheek. It was a subtle yet intimate gesture, one that displayed her unspoken desire to close the gap between us.
The show was an amazing performance, one that I had waited far too long to experience. My eyes were glued to the stage as the performers perfectly portrayed their characters, captivating the audience with every movement and emotion. And as the curtains closed and the audience erupted into thunderous applause, I knew without a doubt that this was an experience I would never forget.
Luciana was equally entranced, her face glowing in the dimmed theatre lights as the final strains of the orchestra faded away. There was a silence that stretched between us, filled with awe and wonder at what we had just witnessed.
“Elphaba’s performance was amazing,” she said.
“Yeah,” I responded. “And her voice was spectacular.”
I listened intently as Luciana’s words tumbled out in a flurry of excitement, her hands gesturing animatedly as she recounted her favorite moments from the show. The show had been nice, but watching her like this, full of joy and emotion, was even better.
“You want to get out of here, Jaws? Maybe go for another walk?”
“As long as no one tries to mug us again…”
“Don’t worry. You know I’ll always win.”
We escaped the bustling crowd of theatergoers and sought refuge in the outside world. The crisp night air was in stark contrast to how warm the theater had been.
Luciana and I had to walk many blocks down, but we eventually found a park to walk through. There were still people, but it was more quiet than the streets of New York.
“I’m glad you chose Broadway,” she said. “That was really fun.”
“Me too. I’ve wanted to go since I was little.”
Luciana looked at me, clearly confused. “Why did you wait so long? You have more than enough money.”
I debated avoiding her question, fabricating a reason I hadn’t visited before. But as I looked at her in the moonlight, her expression filled with genuine curiosity waiting for my response, I couldn’t bring myself to deceive her.
“I wanted my parents to take me when I was younger. They just never got around to it.”
“You never talk about them,” she said hesitantly, knowing she was bringing up a topic I might not want to discuss.
“Not much to say. Dad died when I was nine, and my mom left.”
“I’m so sorry, Emilio,” she gently touched my arm. She knew her words left the option to drop the topic, but I decided she should know the truth.
“It was a drive by shooting. Pretty fucking pathetic, as far as Mafia standards go,” I said. “My mom had always hated him. I thought she had at least cared for me, but I was wrong. She jumped at the chance to leave.”
Without saying a word, Luciana gently caressed my hand, offering comfort and support in her touch.
“She didn’t even say goodbye,” I continued.
“What happened after that?” she asked.
“Ettore’s dad took me in. Raised me like his own son.”
Luciana drew in a breath, her eyes reflecting the empathy and understanding within her. “You know, Emilio, we all have our pasts…some are just harder than others,” she murmured, her voice soft yet firm. “And we can’t change them. All we can do is make the best out of what we have, and use our pain to become stronger. It seems like you’ve done just that.”
As she gazed at me with her soft, hazel eyes and words of adoration, my heart filled with warmth for her. In that moment, I knew without a doubt that she was the most perfect and beautiful person on this earth.
I didn’t even think to respond. Instead, I slammed my lips against hers; her kiss was the only thing I needed at the moment. She was the air I breathed, and she held me to this earth like an anchor.
Her body melted into mine, arms wrapping tightly around my neck as she eagerly returned my kisses. The warmth of her touch consumed me, and I lost myself in the sensation of her lips against mine.
At that moment, I knew she was everything I had ever wanted. But I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or anxious.