Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SLOANE
A fter the awkwardness in Luca’s office yesterday, I’ve avoided him. I can’t help the steady burn of rejection that’s searing my stomach and causing anxiety to thrum wildly.
I know that his rejection is logical, of course. He’s eighteen years older than me, my father’s friend, and a fucking priest.
The last bit should be the only reason I need to leave the subject of him alone, but the more he’s logical about the matter, the more rejected I feel.
Today, I woke up to a note stating that I should be ready for something fun by noon. Luca signed it with an exquisite L at the bottom of the page, and I ran my finger over it far longer than I probably should have.
I’ve dressed for warmth since the temperature outside is frigid today. The steady breeze that rustles past causes the cold to seep through every layer of clothing I wear. And that was only when I stepped out to ensure I had enough clothes on.
I know I’m supposed to be under lock and key, so I don’t understand what Luca’s up to, but I’m excited at the prospect of getting out of the rectory.
When he comes barreling through the door at twelve-thirty, his hair is askew, and his eyes look frantic. “I’m so sorry. I told them I was clearing my schedule, and Betty insisted I sign some documents. She’s a stickler sometimes,” he apologizes.
Betty, his secretary, is an older woman in her seventies who has too many cats but is kind enough to keep Luca’s secret. Me, being the secret.
She looks at him like she wishes he’d leave the church. I’ve caught her weighted stare when she thinks no one’s looking before, and I wonder if he knows how much she cares about him.
“It’s alright,” I tell him, standing and shoving my hands into my pockets.
I’ve been waiting on the couch for him, staring out the window every few minutes with my nerves churning, but I don’t need him to know that.
Luckily, when he burst into the rectory, I was drinking water in the kitchen, looking much less stalkery since I was away from my perch at the front window.
“No. It’s not. I’m a man of my word. I hate being late.” He’s quickly changing from what he’d worn for a day in the church to something more casual, completely forgetting me until he turns toward me from where he stands in his bedroom fissure in just his boxers.
My mouth is suddenly a desert as I rake my eyes up and down his perfect form.
If I thought him sexy in his cassock, this is another level entirely.
Swallowing over an aching lump as a new thrum begins between my thighs. I avert my eyes—though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“God, I’m sorry, Sloane. I wasn’t thinking. I’m a mess today. Maybe we should reschedule this trip. This already isn’t off to a great start.”
Trip?
Where is he taking me?
I hear a zipper and take it as my cue to look, but I am met with his dark stare and bare chest.
“Where are we going?” I manage, as he shoves into a turquoise-colored V-neck shirt that clings to him before grabbing his jacket off the hook by the front door.
“It’s a surprise.” He looks unsure about surprising me as he rakes his eyes up and down my outfit choice before grinning. “That’s a lot of layers.”
I shift on my feet, looking down at all my choices. “Well, I didn’t know where we were going.”
How much his presence tamps down my snarky attitude and sassy mouth is so unfathomable to me, like he strips away the mask I wear to face the world because it’s unnecessary here.
With him.
I swallow at the implication as he smiles and breaks through my worry. “You’ll need them, but I’d lose a couple of jackets for the ride. I’ll keep you warm.”
A blush heats my cheeks as I know I’ve misinterpreted his words as something far more dangerous than he meant.
His face tightens as he realizes what he’s said. “I mean, with the heater.” His hand works over his face as he growls at himself.
His spiraling is cute.
“Come on, then. Let’s get going on this trip of yours,” I tell him to pull him out of his head.
The fact that he planned a trip to get me out of the rectory and semi-cleared his schedule does wicked things to my insides that I’m trying to ignore.
He’s just trying to be kind, I remind myself.
Nice guys exist. In this world, anyway.
They don’t in mine.
“Wait, are we going to the Shore?” I ask, gasping as I see signs passing on the right side of the road for the upcoming exits.
He grins as I turn in my seat. “We are.”
Excitement makes me giddy, but I have to remind myself that this means nothing. He’s just being nice.
The rejection I felt in his office is still gnawing at my stomach, and I let the feeling of it wash over me to keep me in check.
“I’ve never been to the Shore,” I admit softly, turning back to watch as Luca takes exit 102 onto the New Jersey Turnpike.
“Really? We don’t live far. Your parents never took you? We used to go in the summer all the time. My mom would…” Luca trails off as he sees me watching him dreamily, gobbling up all the information I can about him. “I didn’t mean to…” He swallows, and I realize why he’s stopped speaking.
He knows my parents. He knows I’ve never left the city, let alone Brooklyn, and why. My heart pounds harder in my ears as pity glazes his eyes over as he flicks them between me and the road.
“Don’t pity me.” Turning back toward the window, some of the excitement of where we’re going dims as the blanket of his empathy for me lays heavily over it.
“I don’t pity you, Sloane. Shit, maybe I do. But there’s nothing wrong with that. You had a shit life.”
“I had the life I deserved,” I answer without turning away from the window. My breath clouds the cold glass as I breathe out every emotion welling in my chest.
“No one deserves the hell you’ve lived through.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as his hand comes down on my thigh, reminding me of last week’s heavy moment between us in the living room. Though it’s wrong to allow it to, I let his touch steady me.
And then, the world doesn’t seem as dark and full of horrors. Not with Luca Russo lighting my way.
“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask, turning back and facing the priest. I can’t help but feel like I’m growing far too close to him for my liking—for my own sanity.
“We are. We’re meeting John, a driver for Lorenzo Ricci, who will take us places where we’re safe to go. The Riccis also own a small private portion of the beach, and we’ll be safe to walk at sunset.”
The beach?!
The same giddy energy makes a wide grin tug my lips up. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
We arrive at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the Jersey Shore and transfer into a blacked-out SUV. In the SUV, John introduces himself and gives us a rundown of the itinerary.
It took a little under two hours to get here, and in that time, I worked up an appetite, so I’m glad when he says he’s taking us to another Ricci family holding and that there’ll be pasta.
My stomach grumbles as we roll up and we’re escorted in through the back. Yet another private dining room is opened for us, and I’m sipping a glass of red wine when the waiter finally brings me my stuffed shells with Alfredo sauce covering it.
The room surrounding us is dim. The walls are a dull shade of tan, contrasted by hand-painted burgundy flowers.
Luca looks more sinful beneath the amber glow of the iron light overhead, and I try not to stare too long or make it obvious that I am staring.
“Ray,” he starts, pulling me from my focus on tearing apart a garlic knot to dredge through my lingering Alfredo sauce on the right side of my plate. My eyes flick up to find him sputtering as if he can’t continue.
“Yes?” I prod.
“He was a good dad to you? Before all the drugs, of course.”
Sitting back, I drop the garlic knot onto the small plate beside me. Now, I’m the one spinning to find the words to answer.
He clearly values my father, who my father was to him, and who he knew before.
Honesty is always the best policy, though, right?
“I didn’t know my dad before the drugs. I knew him in between the drugs.”
His brows tug together as he lays his fork on the edge of his plate.
“He’d try to get clean. They both have over the years. At those times, I glimpsed what my life could’ve been. Honestly, it made it worse when they relapsed.”
Luca’s eyes drop to his plate, and I know I’ve said too much.
But hell, if my life is too much for him, then I’m too much for him.
“I wish he’d have gone another direction in life, you know? But then…”
I’m genuinely curious about what he’s going to say. Leaning forward, I motion with my hand for him to go on.
“But then there wouldn’t be you,” he says.
It’s like time stops, and the air around us stills.
He’s thankful for my birth. For my life. Even if he can’t have me in his.
He’s so unselfish, and something about that knowledge makes hope bloom in my stomach.
Luca lifts his napkin from his lap and wipes his lips before dropping it beside his plate.
“If we’re going to see the sunset on the beach, we’d better go.”
The bubble of awkward, warm tension around us pops, and I stand and push into my jacket again.
The hostess from before is standing just beyond the door as if she’s been waiting there the entire time, and she leads us back through the kitchen and into the SUV, where John is likewise waiting.
During the entire ride to the beach, I contemplate everything between us. All the brief moments stringing together to become a monumental attraction that can’t be allowed to fester.
If it does, it’ll ruin Luca and all he stands for.
Part of me wishes I were back with Barone. I would have survived, escaped. Somehow.
Even if I’m thankful to be here with him, the growing pull to him is becoming something I can’t deny or look away from.
And even with all the things I’ve done in my past, I think that being the reason Luca Russo falls from grace would be the one thing God wouldn’t be able to look away from.
“We’re here,” Luca tells me, brushing his hand over mine.
Forgetting everything I just told myself, I flip mine and entangle it with his as he opens the door and leads me out.
It doesn’t hurt to enjoy it while it lasts, right?