Chapter 9 #3
That movement is so intimate, it has goose bumps pebbling down my arms. I’m not used to receiving affection from him, but I crave it more than I care to admit.
“I’m bored.”
“Why are you bored, baby?”
Baby.
That deep baritone voice of his, when he calls me baby or babe, has liquid heat pooling in my core. It’s effortlessly seductive and dangerously alluring.
“Because there’s nothing to do around here.”
“What about your books?”
“I’ve read them so many times they’ve become predictable.
I need new material. That thrill of the unknown is gone.
It’s no fun knowing what’s coming next. And the only book I brought with me, that I never got to finish, now has a hole blown straight through the centre.
” I narrow my eyes accusingly as I voice the last part.
He exhales sharply as he releases his hold on my chin, and I immediately feel the loss of his touch.
“Why don’t you watch a movie?”
“There’s only merda (Shit) on free-to-air television.”
“I could log you into my Netflix account.”
I lift one shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow. I still have all the lower cupboards to reorganise.”
He starts unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and rolling up his sleeve. “I’ll help you get this sorted.”
“You will?”
He arches an eyebrow. “If your ovaries can handle it, that is.”
“My ovaries can handle anything you dish out, De Luca,” I scoff.
He barks out a laugh, moving to the other sleeve. “Are we washing everything or just moving shit around?”
“All of the above,” I state.
I’m currently sprawled out on the lounge watching 365 Days and using Ki-Ki’s middle section as a pillow. I was struggling to find something to interest me, but then I stumbled upon this one, and hot damn.
I’m completely engrossed in the current scene that I don’t notice Romeo has stepped into the room until I hear his audible sigh. I pick up the remote and press the pause button before dragging my eyes away from the television.
Massimo Torricelli, played by Michele Morrone, is so dreamy and had my undivided attention until my real-life bad boy entered the room. Romeo De Luca will always take precedence.
He’s hotter, beefier, and ten times more dangerous. He’s the real deal. Not someone acting tough for the cameras. He’s a man who’s lived through the kind of darkness others only pretend to understand.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, watching him carefully.
I’ve settled into a strange sort of calm living here with him, but the threat of Giovanni Salvatori still looms, always lurking at the edges of my thoughts as I find myself wondering if and when he will strike.
“What is my dog wearing?” he asks, in an exasperated tone.
“One of my T-shirts,” I answer with a shrug, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re having a lazy pyjama day, and since he didn’t have anything to put on, I lent him something of mine.”
Romeo rolls his eyes. “You’re ruining him, you know.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a T-shirt, not a frilly dress.”
“A pink T-shirt.”
“Dogs are dichromatic. They can only see two primary colours, blue and yellow. They can’t distinguish between red and green. Since red is mixed with white to make pink, he would see it as a shade of grey or dull white at best.”
“Is that true, or did you just make that shit up?” he asks accusingly.
“It’s true. I read it in a book.”
“Of course, you did,” he retorts, turning to leave the room.
“Hey, Romeo.”
“Yeah,” he replies, pausing but still giving me his back.
“Do you own a boat?”
“A boat?” he asks, spinning back around. “Why?”
I unpause the show I’m watching and motion towards the television screen. It’s right at the part where …
“What the fuck are you watching? Is that porn?”
“No, it’s a love story about a Sicilian Mafia guy who kidnaps a woman and gives her three hundred and sixty-five days to fall in love with him. It reminds me of us. Accept without the boat, obviously.”
His eyes narrow as he storms in my direction and snatches the remote out of my hand, turning the television off.
“Hey, I was watching that!”
“And now you’re not. And for the record, I didn’t kidnap you, and I definitely don’t want you to fall in love with me.”
I stare at him, lips parted, with the words I want to say hanging thick like smoke between us. Too late for that.
He remains silent as he stands there with the remote clenched in his hand, as if it personally offended him. His jaw twitches, it’s the same tic he uses when he’s trying not to say something hurtful or reckless.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I say softly as I clamber off the lounge. He’s so much taller than me that I have to crane my neck to make eye contact when I come to a stop in front of him. “What if I said I didn’t need three hundred and sixty-five days?”
My words have him faltering for a second as he lets them settle in. Once they do, he shakes his head, half laughing like I’ve told him a joke he doesn’t find funny.
“You’re confusing obsession with love.”
“And you’re confusing fear with control.”
Those words land like a slap. I see it in the way his eyes flicker, hopefully putting another crack in all that carefully constructed armour of his.
The air around us is charged; it crackles with every unspoken word. Everything we’re not saying presses down on us, thick and suffocating.
He falters for a moment, and a thrill shoots through me when I think he’s about to close the distance and say or do something tangible for once. To stop hiding behind the truth, but my whole body deflates when he turns his back on me instead.
I blow out a puff of frustrated air as red-hot tears burn the back of my eyes. I’m tired of him running every time things get hard.
“I never pictured you as a coward, De Luca.”
“I’m not a coward, Lucia,” he says, his voice rough but dangerously quiet.
His back is still to me, and in a way, I’m glad, because if it weren’t, he’d be able to see the unshed tears that are now pooling in my stupid eyes.
“I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“Too late for that. You’re already hurting me, Romeo,” I say softly, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.
He remains rigid and unmoving, and the silence that follows is suffocating, pressing in from all sides.
It’s at that very moment I’m hit with the cold realisation I’m already in way too deep with this man. And he’s not going to break my heart someday, because he already has.