17. Tatiana
17
TATIANA
“ Y ou look beautiful,” Lucian says, his voice hoarse with arousal as his eyes rake down my body.
The dresses Gabriella packed for me are far more casual than the ones I’m used to wearing around New York—and far more revealing. I can’t say I hate them—even if I’m showing more skin than I’m used to. But in the Italian heat, I suspect I’ll appreciate the thin straps of my pink floral mini dress, and seeing as the cut doesn’t allow a bra, I’m taking full advantage of the freedom. I’ve piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and finished the look off with some delicate gold jewelry and strappy sandals because Lucian’s taking me into town to explore.
He doesn’t even seem to notice that I skipped makeup all together today, and it’s kind of nice to know he thinks I’m beautiful even without it—not that I should care. But since we’re here in Italy and after everything that got said yesterday, I feel strangely more inclined to take advantage of this vacation. I think I’m ready to let go of what waits for me back home—the responsibility, the grief, the conflict—and actually take the time to understand what it is that Lucian and I have.
Clearly, it’s not nothing. It’s strange to realize that after telling him I hate him. Then discovering that, even if I do—and that fact continues to be less black and white with each passing day—I don’t just hate him. I also want him. I miss him when he’s not there. And as much as I want to deny it, I enjoy the playful energy he adds to my life. Sometimes, it feels like all I know how to be is serious. I have so much responsibility resting on my shoulders, I don’t entirely know what else to be. But Lucian unlocks a more adventurous side of me. He makes me smile—even when he’s driving me crazy. And while we’re here, I want to figure out why that is.
“You ready?” he asks, offering me his elbow.
“Yep.” I slip on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and take his arm, letting him lead me out the front door.
Stairs follow the side of our apartment, leading down to a winding cobblestone road, and I’m amazed by the angle with which it weaves down the side of the steep hill.
“Is this where your family is from?” I ask, the realization hitting me that this could be the reason he’s brought me to Italy in the first place.
“No, we’re from Sicily. But Positano is not so far, and I’ve vacationed here many times in my life.”
Lucian glances at me, his lips curving into a soft smile, and I find myself smiling as well—now that I’m not trying to find fault with anything and everything that comes out of his mouth. His proud features have a natural kind of arrogance that somehow make Lucian more attractive, more masculine. But his Roman nose and angular jaw also make his face more refined, elegant even. And he carries himself with a classy kind of swagger that’s both understated and confident.
“Is this your favorite place to vacation?” I ask, turning my attention back to the winding street and the buildings that line it.
Several cafes sit along the narrow roadway, and cars drive between them and the outdoor seating nestled in little alcoves along the railing. The organization of it is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but then, I imagine it takes a certain amount of creativity to build an entire town on the side of what amounts to a mountainous cliff.
“One of them,” he admits.
The scent of freshly baked pastries and coffee wafts from one cafe, and if I weren’t already full from the breakfast our private chef made for us this morning, I would be tempted to follow my nose inside. Instead, I keep walking with Lucian, doing my best to ignore Dominic and Lucian’s two other men who follow several paces behind. They’re discrete enough, but I’m not used to having strangers watch my back, and I miss the familiarity of my guards.
I can tell the moment we hit the shopping area of the tiny town. Frilly summer dresses and macrame wraps catch my eye from where they hang on the brightly painted open doors of tiny clothing shops. I’ve always loved fashion, and my feet slow without permission as a backless black halter top dress catches my eye.
“Try it on,” Lucian suggests, his hand finding the small of my back as he urges me toward the shop.
“ Buongiorno, ” the curly-haired shopkeeper greets me with a broad smile as soon as I step across the threshold. “How can I help you today?”
It’s the same thing in every shop I step into—the welcoming people happy to help me find whatever I need. The whole town has this casual comfort about it. Like no one’s in a hurry—no one’s pressed for money or time.
And by the time we reach the more narrow walkway down to the beach, Dominic is loaded down with several shopping bags of summer dresses, including the black backless maxi dress that first caught my eye.
“This is my favorite part,” Lucian says, leaning toward me as if it’s a secret.
Bright purple flowers hang over the high walls on either side of the path, filling the air with a sweet perfume. And beneath their shade along one side of the road are numerous tables of handmade jewelry and art. One table in particular stands out to me, and my hand slips from the crook of Lucian’s elbow as I turn to study the delicate jewelry.
“Are these shells?” I ask, brushing my finger across one curving, circular pendant.
“ Si, signora, ” the wizened old woman says from her chair. Her tanned skin is more like leather than anything else, and a colorful silk wrap keeps her frizzy gray hair back from her thin face, but she smiles at me with a coy intelligence. “All collected and hand painted by myself.”
The colorful flowers she’s painted onto the fragile medium are as delicate as the shells themselves, and my eyes widen as I take in her artistry. “These are incredible,” I breathe.
“Which ones are your favorite?” Lucian asks.
“Do I have to pick?”
He chuckles, and when he reaches out, his fingers brush across a pair of earrings that caught my eye just moments before he pointed them out. They’re stunning with white lilies on a dark mother of pearl background.
“Pick however many you’d like.”
My first thought is to get a pair for Natasha. She’s not nearly as fashion focused as I am, but I’m sure she would love these. I pick a pair for Quinn as well—she might be Killian’s sister, but Natasha considers her family, so I do too. Then I pick a third pair for myself.
“Can I wear these now?” I ask.
“Of course,” the old woman says as she wraps the other two jewelry boxes in small paper bags with her gnarled fingers.
As we continue our stroll down the walkway to the beach, I can’t seem to stop smiling. Something about the casual sense of contentment in the small town, the welcoming and friendly Italian culture, puts me at ease, and I find it impossible not to let go of the stress and pressure of becoming the head of my family.
When Lucian takes my hand, interlacing our fingers so our palms meet, my heart skips a beat. He’s such a contradiction—so at ease and charming but capable of being shockingly ruthless and cruel. I still don’t know what to make of him, but I’m finding it harder and harder not to fall for him. It feels like he’s doing everything within his power to win my trust, and despite the loyalty I have for my father and my family, I wonder if continuing my battle with Lucian is really feasible in the long run.
He’s dangerously charming when he wants to be, and here, in the romantic atmosphere of Positano he’s close to irresistible.
The emotional breakdown I had yesterday feels like the distant past, and all that matters right now is this moment, the contentment I feel, the relief of not being constantly crushed under the weight of my grief and the responsibilities that come with my loss.
“You ready to put that new swimsuit to use?” Lucian asks as the beach opens up before us.
My lips part on a gasp at the beauty of it. I’ve never seen such black rocks on a beach before. They’re no larger than the palm of my hand, and as they get closer to the water’s edge, they gradually get smaller, smoother, more inviting to walk on with bare feet. I can feel the heat radiating off of them even from here, and the salty smell of the Mediterranean makes me giddy with anticipation.
“Yeah,” I agree.
Lucian pulls me in the direction of a building down the rocky beach and after renting a changing tent, an umbrella, and several beach chairs, he heads down to the water’s edge while I switch from my dress into the strappy white Brazilian one-piece swimsuit I simply couldn’t pass up. I keep my sandals on all the way to the edge of the water because the rocks are surprisingly challenging to traverse without them. And as I slip them off to step onto the wet pebbles along the shore, Lucian watches me from the water, his gaze burning with desire.
“Come join me, tesoro ,” he says, his smooth voice deep and enticing.
A shiver races up my spine, and my feet move forward before I’ve even chosen to obey him. Then a jolt of surprise makes me tense as the chilly water rushes around my ankles.
“It’s cold,” I say, my tone stunned as my voice carries across the water.
“It’ll feel good to get out of the heat,” he encourages, wading toward me.
A bead of sweat trickles down my back, and I know he’s right, but more than that, I recognize that glint in his eye. If I don’t choose to enter the water willingly, he might just pick me up and throw me in—like he did at the pool.
Biting back my squeal of discomfort, I wade forward until I’m waist deep in the water. My nipples pucker through the thin fabric, my chest heaving as I take sharp breaths, trying to tell my body that the shock it’s enduring is nothing to worry about.
Lucian’s eyes travel appreciatively over my breasts, and he closes the distance between us, his chest rising from the water and glistening in the bright sun.
“You’re almost there,” he murmurs, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist, and I shiver as the wetness from his skin seeps through the fabric of my suit.
I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging to the warmth that radiates off him even though he just stepped out of the frigid water. Lucian turns me, lowering me into the water with him, and I gasp, wrapping my legs around him as the cold water swallows me up to my neck.
“You know, the Mediterranean is more buoyant than the Atlantic because it’s so salty,” Lucian says, making the trivia fact sound sexy as he murmurs it to me.
I laugh as a shiver ripples through me. “Are you telling me that to distract me from how cold it is?” I tease.
“I’m telling you because it means we’ve got you,” he says softly, his strong arms holding me close as his eyes burn into mine. “The sea and me. You can let go and let me take the weight—just for a little while, if you want.”
Suddenly, the intimacy of the moment feels electric. The way Lucian’s holding me close, his lips mere inches from mine. His eyes intense and dark with longing. His words are so tempting, and they send an unexpected wave of relief through me—as if I needed to hear that I’m not in this alone.
The truth is, I’m terrified of my responsibility—not because I’m incapable but because I want to honor my father’s memory. I don’t want to let him down. And every day, I’m worried that I won’t be good enough. That one misstep might bring my father’s legacy crashing to the ground. I don’t want Lucian to take my father’s gift from me, but knowing that he won’t let me buckle under the weight fills me with unexpected gratitude.
And when I lean in to kiss him, I think I might just be falling for him despite myself.