42. Samara
Chapter forty-two
Samara
Friday, August 14, 2026
U nfortunately for me, Luca’s entire family is nothing but a bunch of troublemakers.
As much as I’ve been enjoying girls’ nights, book club, and even Sunday dance lessons, I can’t help but think they’re trying to meddle in something that will literally never happen.
He’s arrogant and laughs at his own jokes, and he’s too damn pretty for his own good. Or my good, for that matter. Men like that aren’t at all who I’d typically envision myself with, but when Aiyana invited me to the guys’ offseason charity hockey game, I found myself saying yes.
Though that has nothing to do with Luca.
I wanted some friends in town, and now that I have them, I think having a beer or two at a hockey game could be fun.
Which is why I’m standing outside of this rowdy-ass hockey rink, waiting for everyone to arrive.
I see them heading toward me from the far end of the parking lot. They’re hard to miss with how large the group is, and Rose’s pink hair acts as a traffic cone under the streetlights.
“Samara!” Gloria shouts, waving as she wheels over to me.
I bend down to give her a kiss on either cheek as I’ve become accustomed to when greeting this whole family.
“I’ve got a gift for you.” She beams up at me, but there’s a glint in her eye that has the bile in my stomach churning immediately.
I groan quietly as she pulls out a black gift bag from where it rests on the handle behind her, extending it out for me to take. I arch a brow at her, still not trusting her intentions.
As I pull the black and red tissue paper out of the bag, taking out the folded jersey and letting it fall in front of me, I realize why my gut said she was up to no good. The back of the jersey reads “De Laurentiis” with a massive “69” beneath it.
As to why Luca chose that childish number, I can only imagine, but his mom is about to be the death of me.
“Gloria, I appreciate the gift, but you do know Luca and I aren’t actually dating, right?”
She laughs. “Of course I know that.” She rolls her eyes at me as if I’m the one being ridiculous. “I was front and center listening to that whole conversation, but you are the one who lied to your mother, so I’m just trying to make it believable.” She smiles up at me. “C-Y-A, babycakes,” she tells me. Cover your ass. A phrase I know all too well.
I roll my eyes at her, clearly not about to win this case, so I concede, slipping the oversized jersey over my red long-sleeved top.
We head inside, following behind Gloria, and Kat gives me a reassuring smile. The rest of the women, however, do not. They’re all trying not to laugh, their cheeks filled with air, making them look like a bunch of squirrels with nuts packed in their mouths.
Aiyana is the first to school her expression, and she swings her arm over my shoulder playfully. It’s a gesture I’m definitely not used to. “Gloria is kind of a wild card, but I promise, she’s got your best interest at heart, and if you ever feel like she’s genuinely overstepping, just tell her, okay? None of us want you to feel bullied,” she assures me, and some of the stress melts from my tense shoulders.
We take our seats close to the ice after getting concessions, and I take a giant gulp of my beer and let the cool liquid ease some of my earlier anxiety.
Kat lifts her beer to mine, clanking it together when all the women say, “Cheers!”
“Kat, are you drinking a beer?” Arielle asks, leaning over my seat as she squints at the bottle in Kat’s hand.
She snickers, passing it to her to read. “It’s non-alcoholic.” Her cheeks flush a rosy color, and she says, “Ale spoke with concessions and asked them to start stocking non-alcoholic versions for those like myself who prefer not to drink but enjoy the experience.”
My heart squeezes tightly in my chest.
“That’s so sweet,” I say, practically swooning. I’m basically in love with every relationship these women have. It’s ridiculous.
Over the next hour, I watch as Luca dances around the net, not letting any pucks past him. When he stops a puck, he makes a big show of it, blowing kisses, taking a bow, and at one point, he’s literally humping the ice.
“I swear.” Arielle giggles, cupping a hand over her mouth. “That just never gets old.”
“He has a little too much fun out there if you ask me,” Rose says in her very blasé way.
“Ale keeps trying to convince me that Luca’s just stretching, but I sincerely hope I don’t seem that freaking naive,” Kat says with a snort.
“He doesn’t think you’re naive,” Charlie says. “He’s fucking praying you don’t find the dumb shit Luca does attractive.”
Kat nearly chokes on the slushie she swapped to about a half hour ago as Aiyana pats her back. “There, there, sweet child, Momma Aiyana’s got you.” That only makes Kat cough even harder.
“You’re a terror.” I chuckle at Aiyana, loving how freely she speaks her mind, even if what she says is entirely unhinged.
She smirks up at me. “Thank you,” she says, and I think she honestly took it as a compliment. Not that I didn’t mean it as one because I absolutely did.
“Kat, not to worry you further, but I have to say, I do find it just a tad concerning that you didn’t deny what Charlie said.”
Kat shakes her head, rubbing her thumb over the pendant of her gold necklace as she clenches her eyes shut. “There isn’t much that Luca does that doesn’t mostly repulse me. No offense, I love him with every piece of my soul, but I’m by no means looking to trade De Laurentiis brothers,” she says with a laugh.
Thank god for that.
I finally turn my attention back to the ice, and just as Luca blocks another shot, his attention seems to snag over here. He drops his stick, takes off his helmet, and makes his way over to us as he pulls his gloves off. What the hell is he doing? He’s in the middle of a game!
His coach is shouting at him from the bench, and beside him is Alessandro with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief, but I can see his wide smile from here.
Luca makes his way over to us, jabbing his finger at the glass and pointing straight at me.
“Looks like Luca wants to help you convince your parents that this is real too.” Charlie laughs.
“My parents don’t even watch hockey!” I tell them. I haven’t even told them his name yet, and I definitely haven’t told them what he does for a living or how we met. There’s not a chance that would make our vacation go by more smoothly.
He pulls out his mouthguard and shouts, “Turn around, princess !”
I pretend I have no idea what he’s saying. “What? I can’t hear you!” I shout back, unable to keep the smile off my face. He shoots his gaze straight at his mom, who’s chuckling beside me along with all the other women flanking me.
“Oh, come on, stand up and show off your new jersey,” Gloria tells me, patting my thigh.
“Don’t make me come over there and do it myself,” he shouts at me.
And I can’t quite tell if the chill that skates up my spine is from how much I actually like the thought of his hands on me or if it’s the realization that everyone’s eyes are on me.
“Fine,” I groan, wanting to get this over with. I stand, turning around and moving my hair off my back to show him his name across my shoulder blades.
The crowd roars around us, clapping loudly and cheering their approval. When I turn to sit back down, his eyes are blazing with heat for just a moment before he brings his fingers to his lips, letting out a loud whistle. He shakes his head at me, and I see his lips move, but he doesn’t speak loud enough for me to hear what he said.
It looked like he said, “Oh, fuck me,” but that couldn’t be right. This is Luca De Laurentiis. Everything he does is to get a rise out of me or someone else.
And when he starts to skate backward toward his goalpost, he puts his hands out in front of his chest, curving his fingers and thumbs into a heart. My heart thumps wildly behind my ribs as he turns, reaching down to grab his discarded gear.