Chapter 6
“You sure youdon’t want to wrap your hands?” Zar asks. “You’re gonna rip your knuckles open.”
I grin. I like him. But I need pain this morning. “Uppercuts.” So I warn him to switch the position of his mitts before I start punching with my bare fists again, loving the biting sting of leather against my bare flesh.
“Our Luca.”
That’s what that Maren woman said at Gia’s school yesterday. She sneered at me as if I’m white trash and don’t belong in Luca’s world. And the truth is…
I don’t.
I’m the help who had to buy a five thousand dollar Gucci dress this morning with Luca’s Black Card. It was mortifying; all the clothes I quickly bought with money that’s not mine, and the woman at the Gucci store knew it.
Maybe some people like being kept, but I like keeping my pride. It’s free. It’s all I’ve had growing up: pride and clothes from Goodwill.
Women like Maren have made fun of me my whole life.
And it’s obvious. She’s so horny for Luca, I almost feel bad for her. She can’t have him either. It’s kinda forbidden, right? Fucking your dead best friend’s husband. I can tell Maren wants to, and yes, it makes me jealous.
“Dayum, woman,” Zar huffs, bracing against my pummeling. “Who snapped your garters?”
“Bitches like Maren.” I don’t know why I confess it to Zar. Something about him puts me at ease.
“Don’t let her get to you. Join my club,” he says. “She hates me, too.”
I land a left uppercut and glance up.
We’re the only ones in the hotel gym. It’s a state-of-the-art facility with a saltwater lap pool.
I may not be familiar with such luxury, but I like it. I like the fancy bronze yoga pants and matching sports bra I bought myself today, too, from that Lemon or whatever store.
HIF #6: Yeah, my pride goes out the trailer window when it comes to expensive activewear. I didn’t mind spending Luca’s money on that.
Technically, sexy workout clothes aren’t part of my business attire, but it sure feels like it. I can sense Luca watching in that camera over Zar’s right shoulder.
Can Luca hear us, too?
Because I’m appropriately dressed for a gym but Zar is pushing boundaries. He’s not wearing a shirt as men should in here. No, he’s showing off his shredded body by wearing soft navy jersey workout shorts that can’t hide what’s hanging long and not-so-soft.
I’m used to it. All the grappling I’ve done in gyms dominated by men? Big surprise: some men get off on a woman who beats them.
It’s obvious my domination arouses Zar, and I find it kinda erotic, endearing how Zar’s letting me see his kink. He has no shame about it.
“Hooks,” so I thrill him.
Zar’s been kind to me since I arrived. We share a love of the sport, but something makes me wonder if we share more. He grins as I wind up for a rear right hook. I land the punch, asking, “Why does Maren hate you?”
My power makes him flex his sculpted pecs, and I confess, it’s a sexy-as-fuck sight.
While Luca’s torso is smooth like granite, Zar has the perfect dusting of dark chest hair, trailing down in a narrow line to where I won’t let my stare go. Zar’s a very tempting man, but I’m too distracted by unwanted thoughts of Luca.
“Because I fucked her sister in the bathroom at a charity fundraiser.” He grins. “Oh, and because Maren wanted to fuck me, too. She propositioned me several times. I don’t blame the horny woman. Her ex-husband had the sex appeal of a sinus infection, but Maren was Darby’s best friend, so hell no.” I laugh with another right hook. “And now she wants Luca, but that’ll never happen. He’s a loner.”
I drop my fists, barely huffing for breath.
That doesn’t make sense.
I don’t know if Luca can hear us, and I’d rather die than admit I’m so curious it hurts, but I need to know.
If Luca’s such a loner, why is he fucking women like Brooke Turner? If we’re strictly professional, why does he keep flirting with me?
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you a loner, too? Is that why you’re best friends?”
Zar smirks, wiping his brow with his forearm. “So, you’re investigating me now?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“You’re as covert as a bonfire.” He smirks. “And I like it.” He leans his sweaty back against the mirror. “Luca and I are best friends because we’ve shared everything,” he explains. “Books. Beer. Harvard. Heirs to fortunes. Except Luca obeyed his father’s wishes while I told mine to go fuck himself.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to run an oil company. My father keeps polluting the planet. He won’t change, and I want nothing to do with it. My little brothers can have it. So, once I was eighteen, he kicked me out. That’s when I met Luca, and we’ve been close ever since.”
“How close?”
Zar grins as if he likes me digging. “We bond over a lot of things. That’s what young men do in college.” He raises a teasing eyebrow. “We bond.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrug. “I didn’t go to college. I barely graduated from high school.”
“But you’re smart,” he says. “And you’re a badass who can whoop my fucking ass, and clearly, I enjoy it.” Every time he grins, I grin back. “But you’re sweet, too. I can tell. I saw how you were with Gia yesterday. You can’t hide your heart. It’s open, so be careful.”
“Careful about what?”
Zar’s glance flicks to the security camera. I can’t tell if he’s warning me or baiting me. Maybe both. He cares for Luca and loves Gia like she’s his daughter, too, so why is he silently warning me about his best friend?
What is he hiding?
It makes the question rush over my whispering lips. “What happened to her?”
I’m asking about Darby, Luca’s wife. A Harvard degree isn’t required to connect the dots.
“You’ve already investigated it, haven’t you?” he replies, and that’s how smart Zar is. He’s five steps ahead of most people. “You used your connections at HGR this morning while you were shopping to get more intel on him.”
“It was a car crash, but parts of the report were blank.”
He nods. “Luca buried Darby and their story. He’s that powerful.”
I lean closer, so close I can smell his leather cologne, and I like it. “But why keep it a secret?” I ask him. “You know why, don’t you?”
He barely shakes his head no. Not that he’s ignorant. No, Zar’s loyal to Luca, but he has an odd way of showing it.
“And why,” I ask him, “did you show me those pictures yesterday? The ones from Luca’s stalker. They were…incriminating.”
Now, he cocks a half-grin. “You asked to see them, didn’t you? It’s your job.”
“But you showed me all of them when you didn’t need to. Like you wanted me to see everything.”
The photos were black and white and elegant in their depravity.
Brooke is blonde. She’s gorgeous in that high-class way. I’d recognize her now. The photo of her naked and kneeling, drooling with a black bit clenched in her teeth, is burned into my brain.
But Zar also silently slid the photos she left on Luca’s desk before me. One with her on all fours, the bit strapped across her mouth while she wore a long black ponytail butt plug in her ass. One with her lying down with a black pony horse dildo in her pussy. One of her on her knees, her hands cuffed with “OUR FILLY” written in lipstick across her mammoth breasts.
Apparently, Luca took lewd photos of her. He did depraved things to her, and then he fucked her. And it shocked me. The photos made me wet. And jealous.
And hurt.
Luca fucked Brooke, too. And now, SHE’S a relentless stalker, but I’M the big mistake?
“Yeah, I thought you should see what you’re getting into.” Zar smirks. “You know…for work and all.”
“So what?” I keep whispering. “You’re warning me about Luca? Like he’s some semen demon?”
Zar chuckles low. “Semen demon?”
“Yeah, that’s what my sister and I call them—men to watch out for. Is that what you’re warning me? Luca’s a perv?”
Zar shrugs.
“You know what, you’re right.” I glare at him. “It’s none of my business what Luca does because it’s just business between us.”
“All right then, Red.” He leans forward, towering over me while his mischief turns sweet. “Then join us for lunch today. Me and Luca. We can talk business.”
Like I’d ever back down from a challenge. And, whatever. Luca can keep his secrets and his best friend who guards them. I don’t care what pervy kinks he’s into. Yep, that’s a lie. I’m curious as hell.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve taken a fast shower in the Ladies’ Locker room. Slipping on the new silk Gucci dress I bought today, I feel ridiculous. I’ve never worn a five-thousand-dollar dress or felt such luxury on my skin. It’s some traditional brown and black equestrian print, like I’ve ever ridden a damn horse, either. But the long sleeves cover my tattoos, and the dress flows loose enough for me to fight if I must.
Did I buy the expensive equestrian dress because of Luca and Brooke’s pony play fetish? No, but now I’m wearing it because fuck it. I’m not intimidated; I’m intrigued.
Securing my damp hair into a simple bun, I slip on new black-heeled ankle booties, too, but I don’t bother with makeup. I gotta keep my identity, my dignity somehow.
When I meet Zar by the elevator to take the quick trip down to the lobby, why am I not surprised that Luca’s looming there, waiting?
He was watching us.
His icy eyes glower at me, then at Zar, who smirks back, pressing the elevator button. “Nice to see you found a shirt,” Luca hisses low.
“I found more than that,” Zar taunts while I roll my eyes, waiting for the elevator to slide open.
It’s like they’re jealous boys in a pissing contest, and I’m the one getting wet, and in a golden way. That’s not my kink, and this is annoying as hell.
“Your hair,” Luca growls as we enter the open golden doors.
At first, I think he’s speaking to Zar, whose dark waves are damp from his shower. Zar’s wearing a light blue linen suit. It looks bright against his tan skin, like he’s full of light. While Luca towers in his usual dark suit like he’s in a constant state of mourning, sucking all the joy from any room he’s in. But Zar doesn’t answer him, and I feel a fire on my exposed neck, so I look up, confronting Luca’s glare.
I huff, “You’re talking to me?”
“Yes,” he commands. “Wear your hair down.”
Oh, hail, no.
“Excuse me, Christian Grey, but tell me how to wear my hair again, and you’ll wear a black eye.”
“Who’s Christian Grey?”
Of course, Luca’s so Dom he doesn’t know fictional ones. He’s so rich; pop culture is tacky unless it’s for Gia.
“He’s a billionaire Dom who trains a virgin to be his sub.”
Luca sneers with dark glee. “You’re NOT a virgin.”
So I sneer back. “I’m NOT your sub either.”
Zar snorts as the elevator dings and the door slides open. I shove past Luca while I hear Zar chuckle. “Slick move, Ex-Lax. She fucking hates you now.”
And yet, I let Luca feed me the best meal I’ve ever had. Saganaki, freshly fried goat cheese topped with honey and nuts. Moussaka, eggplant mixed with potatoes and lamb, finished in a rich béchamel sauce. Pork Souvlaki marinated in oil, lemon, and oregano. Fresh pita bread and Tzatziki sauce to die for.
A dollop falls on the white linen tablecloth in front of me, and I don’t think. I swipe it up and lick the Tzatziki off my fingertip, loving its creamy zing, while I blurt, “I’d eat this sauce off of the ass-end of a skunk and love it.”
I’m so enraptured that I forget where I am, sitting in a five-star restaurant at the VIP table with Luca and Zar and a bunch of Charleston’s elite, staring at me like I’m the only one saddled up to the trough. “Sorry.” Suddenly, I blush, remembering my manners.
“Quite alright.” Is Luca smiling? “It’s some of the best cuisine in the world. It’s meant to be enjoyed with no shame.”
Zar jokes. “I had an orgasm the first time I tasted Luca’s lamb chop.”
Everything Zar says is loaded with innuendo he wants me to hear.
“When was that?” I ask.
Luca answers, “I brought Zar home for the summer between our freshman and sophomore years.”
Though he can’t shake his alpha vibes, at least Luca’s dropped his asshole meter down to a 1.5 for lunch.
And yeah, I may have let Luca display me on his lap, my back against his chest while he spread my legs, letting two couples watch while he fucked my ass and grabbed my neck, whispering in my ear, “They can see your pussy dripping with my cum down my cock that’s fucking your ass now. You’re so tight for me. Moan, my little whore.” He pinched my nipple, and I obeyed. “Tell them you’re my whore, ma flamme, while I make you burn. Show them how you take me.” He snarled, “Only me.”
Yeah, I might’ve come, all sexalted, letting Luca do that and a bunch of other kinky shit…
But no man tells me how to wear my hair.
Zar continues their story. “I thought I was going home with Luca for a luxury Mediterranean summer vacation, but no. We were washing sand off of lounge chairs and picking cigarette butts off the beach.”
Luca laughs. “I warned you my father didn’t play. If you’re breathing, you’re working.”
“Yeah, well,” Zar reclines in the blue velvet chair like The Mercier is his home, too, “I sure liked working on a nude beach.”
“A nude beach?”
Luca grins, amused by my question. “We aren’t sexually uptight where I’m from,” he says. “Nudity is natural. It’s beautiful. It’s meant to be enjoyed under the warm sun, splashing in the cool water.”
“Yeah, Red.” Zar jumps in. “We would love to watch you try the nude beach at our Mykonos property. We have a trip there in two weeks.”
“No,” Luca barks back, “we don’t.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
But Zar doesn’t flinch at Luca’s ire. “I tell ya,” Zar turns to me, “all those naked bodies on the beach; I was like a horny fly to honey. I got stuck so many times that summer.”
I laugh at Zar’s joke. “What about you?” I ask Luca. “Did you get stuck on the nude beach too?”
“I was the owner’s son.” He smooths the napkin in his lap. “I had to be more careful than my amorous friend.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I challenge him, so he licks his lips before confessing, “I was careful, yes, but I got stuck plenty.”
“On the hotel’s balconies was his favorite place, so I could watch him.” Zar shares that too quickly, and Luca whips a glare at him.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Luca’s fucked in public, and he’s a fan of nudity. Big whoop. That’s not a newsflash to me, so why is Luca pissed that Zar’s sharing it among our little threesome?
It’s odd, but I don’t want to trudge through a testosterone tiff all day, so I change the subject. “What did y’all do at Harvard to get so close that Zar wanted to go home with you?”
Luca’s stare won’t release Zar’s. They’re sharing something silent and furious. But with my question, Zar’s face softens. “I took care of him,” he answers, looking at Luca. “He got pneumonia that winter. His hot Greek ass couldn’t handle the Boston cold, and he got too sick to fly home for Christmas, so I stayed with him.”
Luca still stares at him, answering gently for the first time, “It’s not like you had anywhere else to go.”
He doesn’t sound like a dick. He sounds caring.
“Yeah,” Zar agrees. “I had nowhere else to go, so Luca got sick for me so we could be together at Christmas. I brought him chicken and noodles from the Soup Shack every day and bourbon all night, and we binge-watched Lord of the Rings in our dorm while he hacked up a lung for two weeks straight. Ain’t that right, my precious?”
He teases Luca, and now I really hear Zar’s Texas accent. That’s where his family is from. I did confirm that intel from HGR this morning. It’s another thing the men share. They both come from families so famous for their wealth they can’t hide it.
Zar Rollins walked away from the fifth wealthiest family in the country. All on principle.
Luca Mercier inherited the world’s wealthiest, privately owned hotel chain at age twenty-five.
And me?
I inherited my mom’s old red Ford Fiesta. The windows wouldn’t roll down, and the A/C didn’t work, but it got me sweating to the gym and back. It secured my future, and here we are.
Though I don’t belong here, in this luxury hotel, sitting between wealth most can’t fathom, the way Luca and Zar gently look at me? When it’s just me and the two of them?
I feel like I belong. It has me glowing all afternoon while I settle into my office next to Luca’s. My laptop is from HGR, so I click through our databases, still snooping for something I can’t find on Luca.
As I did the day before, when I’m done, I go up to the penthouse and say goodbye to Gia. I need her to trust me, to listen to me. It’s protocol. It usually takes time with your mark, but Gia instantly does, giving me a gooey feeling.
“Will you eat dinner with us?” she asks, standing in the foyer with Celine. Gia’s been playing with blue and green markers. The guilty evidence colors her button nose.
It’s just the three of us while Luca’s still in his office, I assume, while I squat to Gia’s height. “I gotta go home and take care of my puppy, but thank you for the invitation.”
“What’s your puppy’s name?”
“Crimson.” When Gia’s confused, her face twists just like her Baba’s. “It’s a color of red,” I explain.
“You’re red!” she chirps.
“Yeah, that’s what Zar’s calling me.”
Gia thinks that’s funny as I leave for the night. I check in with Luca, too. As usual, he’s behind his desk, and I clock on his security screen that its camera is aimed at his foyer, where I just was with Gia.
“I don’t need you.” Cruelly, he barks, not even glancing up from his laptop, so I leave, feeling that glow I had this afternoon dim on my quick drive home.
Luca’s an enigma.
I don’t know who he is, and I don’t know why I care as I take Crimson on a walk. It’s our usual trip by the harbor, down the sidewalk lined with palms, to the aquarium and its park outside and back. It’s our evening ritual, and it helps to clear my head.
Dusk smears up the sky into the night. It’s almost dark, but upon my return, I notice a delivery woman standing in the shadows by the glass doors of my building’s lobby. She’s holding a bouquet, I assume, concealed by a gold gift bag.
“You can leave that for a resident at the reception desk,” I tell her.
“I have strict instructions to get the recipient to sign for it,” she replies, and my instinct fires.
“Is the recipient Scarlett Jones? Ten D? Because that’s me.”
The woman smiles, relieved she won’t have to wait all night while I sign her digital clipboard and wrap my arm around the concealed flowers, struggling to wrangle Crimson on his leash at the same time.
“Good luck with that,” the woman offers as she leaves. “Whoever sent it sure spared no expense.”
Once settled upstairs in my condo and Crimson’s lapping up his water, I carefully cut the gold mylar bag open and softly gasp.
All the romance movies I watch alone at night. All the books I read on my phone, hoping no one catches me. Though I’ve never felt it for real, I’m secretly a romantic at heart. And it’s a heart that’s never had a man give me flowers.
I stare at the orchid, flooded with a feeling I want to keep.
The orchid is red with white splattered across the delicate opening lip of the flowers’ pedals. “Miltoniopsis Breathless,” reads the tiny gold plant label. It’s breathtaking, beautiful, and erotic too.
Then I notice the small black velvet gift box neatly placed under the thick green leaves of the orchid. I open it and bite my lip, not believing the tears welling in my eyes.
No man’s ever given me a gift, either.
It’s a gold hair clip with golden tonal inlaid crystals. In tiny gold letters, it reads PRADA. There’s no card with the clip or the orchid. He’s not the kind of man who requires one.
Thank you, Mr. Grey
I can’t resist the joke, the kind gesture, or texting him.
Luca quickly replies, like he was waiting for me to text him. Like he knew I would.
Semen Demon
You’re free with me, Ms. Jones
…
Three dots quickly appear, and I hold my breath for more of him.
So I insist
In due time
You call me
…
LUCA