Chapter 6
Perry
“Thanks for letting me borrow the clothes,” I tell Luca as I pad into the kitchen after my shower.
“Of course. You can have anything you want,” he says, smiling at me.
His eyes heat as he takes me in. I don’t know why he looks so turned on right now.
My hair is damp and still dripping onto my shoulders, and I’m swimming in his clothes.
I keep tripping over the hemline of his sweatpants.
I should probably ditch them. His T-shirt is like a dress on me, so it’s not like I wouldn’t be covered.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, turning to open the fridge. “I can make us dinner. Or if you want to go out, I’ll drive us somewhere.”
“No!” I blurt out, not wanting to leave and risk running into Bryan and his men. “Here is fine.”
He nods, seeming to understand why I reacted that way. He doesn’t say anything, just turns back to the fridge. “How does shrimp scampi sound?”
My mouth waters. “That’s my favorite.”
He smiles. “Then that’s what we’ll have.”
It’s crazy how well he seems to read me. I mean, he’s always there when I need him. He’s making my favorite food for dinner. His bathroom had the shampoo and conditioner I loved before it got too expensive for me to buy. This man and this place seem to be made for me.
I don’t say any of that out loud. We might have confessed that we’re into each other, but I don’t want to come on too strong too fast.
Luca pulls ingredients out of the fridge and sets them on the counter: shrimp, butter, lemons, and fresh parsley. My stomach growls again, and his lips twitch.
“Need help?” I ask.
“You can sit.”
“I can also cook.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, his dark green eyes sweeping down my body again. His gaze lingers on the enormous sweatpants bunched around my feet. “You’re going to break your neck in those.”
I laugh, grabbing the waistband to push the sweatpants down my hips. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Luca freezes with his hand halfway inside a cabinet. “What are you doing?” His voice comes out strangled.
“Taking these off.”
His eyes drop to my thighs as I step out of the pants and kick them aside. The hem of his shirt falls almost to my knees, covering more of me than most of my dresses do, but Luca stares like I’m standing naked in his kitchen.
“Are you okay?” I ask innocently.
“No,” he mumbles.
I laugh, and his expression softens.
“I’m covered,” I point out, secretly loving his attention.
“Barely,” he mutters, turning back to the counter. “Sit down before I burn dinner.”
He points to one of the stools at the island. I climb onto it, trying not to smile at the flush creeping up the back of his neck. I like knowing that I affect him. A man who looks like Luca could have any woman he wanted, but he’s losing his mind over me in an oversized T-shirt.
I’ve never felt so sexy or desirable in my life. Most guys ignored me at school, preferring my model-thin classmates to the curvy girl in the corner. I don’t blame them. I was never interested in any of them either. Luca, though? Yeah, I want him.
I watch him move around the kitchen. He works with the same quiet confidence that he had when he changed my tire, like everything he does comes naturally to him. Water goes on to boil while he seasons the shrimp and melts butter in a pan.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask.
“My mom. She said if I was going to eat as much as I did, I needed to learn how to feed myself.”
I smile. “Were you always this big?”
“Pretty much. My mom called me her little linebacker.”
“Little?”
“Her definition was generous,” he says dryly.
I laugh again, and he looks at me like I just gave him a gift.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You keep staring at me.”
“I like looking at you. Is that a problem?”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. Luca says things like that so matter-of-factly. No teasing smirk or practiced charm. He means every word, which somehow makes them hit even harder.
I fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I like looking at you too.”
The wooden spoon in his hand stills. His eyes lock onto mine, and the air in the kitchen suddenly feels thick.
“Careful, Pumpkin.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to take this slow.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” he says immediately. “But it’s what you need.”
No one has ever put what I need ahead of what they want before. The knowledge makes my chest ache.
Luca turns back to the stove before I can think of anything to say. I watch him add garlic to the pan, filling the kitchen with a smell so good that my mouth waters.
“What do you do for work now?” I ask, desperate to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
“I freelance.”
“Doing what?”
“Computer security, mostly. Sometimes private investigators hire me to find people or dig into records.”
A flicker of unease runs through me. “You find people?”
His shoulders tense as he picks up on my change in mood. “Sometimes.”
“Could you find anyone?”
“If I had enough information.”
I stare down at my hands. “Could you find Bryan?”
The pan clatters as Luca sets it down harder than necessary. When he turns to me, there’s nothing soft in his expression. He looks cold. Dangerous.
“Yeah,” he says. “I could find him.”
I should be frightened by the quiet promise in his voice, but I’m not. For the first time, Bryan is the one who should be afraid.
“What would you do if you found him?” I whisper.
“Whatever was necessary to make sure he never came near you again.”
My breath catches. Luca studies my face before coming around the island. He stops in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my head back to meet his gaze.
“Does that scare you?” he asks.
It probably should.
“No.”
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He slowly lifts his hand, giving me plenty of time to pull away before he tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear.
“Good,” he murmurs. “You never need to be scared of me.”
“I’m not.”
His fingers linger against my cheek. I lean into his touch before I can stop myself, and his expression becomes fierce.
“Perry.”
The way he says my name sounds like a warning and a plea all at once.
A loud hiss comes from behind him.
“Your shrimp,” I blurt out.
“Fuck.”
I cover my mouth to hide my laugh as Luca spins back to the stove. He grumbles as he moves the pan off the burner and checks our dinner.
“Did you ruin it?” I tease.
“No, I’ll eat the burned pieces.”
I love that he’s so generous. My parents, Bryan, the people from my previous life, would’ve given me the burned pieces, not caring about whether I ate them or not.
Luca is different. He’s so thoughtful, so generous.
He’s different from anyone I’ve ever known.
He reminds me of the heroes in my romance books, and I blush as I think about what I’d like to do to him.
He finishes the sauce and tosses it with the pasta before carrying two full plates to the small table beside the window. Pulling out my chair, he waits until I sit before taking the seat across from me.
I twirl the pasta around my fork and take a bite. A moan slips out before I can stop it.
Luca’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth.
“This is incredible,” I mumble.
His grip tightens around the silverware. “Glad you like it.”
I take another bite and close my eyes, savoring the lemon, garlic, and butter. When I look up again, he’s still watching me. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yeah.”
He finally takes a bite, but his attention remains fixed on me.
We talk while we eat. Or, more accurately, I talk and Luca listens.
I tell him about the bakery where I worked in Los Angeles and how I used to sneak broken cookies into the back room.
I tell him about the tiny apartment I hated and the elderly woman downstairs who watched game shows at full volume every night.
He remembers every detail. When I mention that I always wanted to own a little bookstore with a coffee counter, he doesn’t laugh or tell me it’s unrealistic.
“You could do that here,” he says.
I snort. “With what money?”
“I could help.”
“Luca—”
“Or I could help you make a business plan,” he corrects when he sees my expression. “Find a space. Figure out what you would need.”
I stare at him across the table. “You really think I could do it?”
“I think you could do anything you wanted.”
The certainty in his voice makes my throat tighten.
I change the subject, asking him about his time in the military. He tells me about becoming a Green Beret, about his buddies, and some of his missions. He’s not a man of many words, but I love that he’s willing to talk, to open up for me.
We linger at the table long after our plates are empty. Luca eventually clears them and refuses to let me wash anything, so I sit on the counter and keep him company while he cleans.
It all feels strangely… domestic, like we’ve done this a hundred times instead of meeting only yesterday.
That should worry me. Instead, I find myself wishing it were real.
When he finishes cleaning up, we move into the living room. Luca takes one end of the couch, and I curl up on the other, tucking my bare legs beneath the shirt. Despite the several feet between us, I’m acutely aware of him. Of every breath he takes and each small shift of his body.
“Do you want to watch something?” Luca asks, grabbing the TV remote.
“Uh—” I cover my mouth as I yawn. The day has caught up with me, and the warmth of the house and the steady comfort of Luca’s presence begin to pull me under. I try to fight it, but another yawn escapes.
“Tired?” he asks as I smother a yawn.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I haven’t been sleeping great the last few weeks.”
He nods sympathetically, but I see the way his jaw flexes at my words. He hates that these men have caused me any stress, and I fall a little more in love with him at that moment.
I’ve never had anyone who gave a damn about me. My parents were pushing me to marry Bryan because it would help their social standing. They were willing to use me any way they could.
Somehow, I know that Luca would never do that to me.
“I only have the one bed right now,” he says, pushing to his feet and reaching for me. “You’ll sleep there.”
“Where will you sleep?” I ask, gasping as he lifts me into his arms easily and turns to carry me down the hall.
“I’ll take the couch. That way, I can keep an eye out for anyone poking around.”
“The couch? No, you won’t be able to fit there,” I protest, my eyes locked on the leather sofa we just left. There’s no way his big body will be comfortable sleeping on it. He’s already doing so much for me. I can’t put him out that way too.
“I can take the couch,” I tell him as he carries me into his room.
“It’s safer for you in here.”
I push up into a sitting position as he lays me down on the soft mattress. “Luca, no. I can’t take your room. If anything happens, I’ll shout for you.”
I throw my legs over the side of the bed, but he stops me. He shakes his head, grumbling under his breath. The next moment, he’s pulling back the covers and tucking me in so tightly that I can barely move.
“Hey!” I protest, but the words die on my tongue when he strips his shirt off and tosses it into the hamper.
“I’ll sleep here. On top of the covers,” he says, studying my face to see if that’s okay with me.
I nod, and he lies down, his weight causing the blankets to loosen so I roll toward his side.
I bite back a smile as I lie there. I love that Luca doesn’t pretend, that what you see with him is what you get.
He’s so honest, so perfect. It’s hard to believe that he’s still single…
or that he’s into someone who looks like me.
I mean, I saw his body when he took his shirt off.
I didn’t know that men could look like that outside of Hollywood or romance books.
He reaches over, turning off the bedside lamp. “Sleep, pumpkin. You need your rest,” he whispers.
I sigh and let my eyes drift shut.
I have no idea what time it is when I wake up again. The house is quiet and dark. I lick my dry lips, trying to convince myself to go back to sleep, but I’m so thirsty.
My legs are pinned, and I wiggle, stifling a giggle when I realize Luca’s big body is draped over me. His arm is wrapped tightly around my waist, and one of his legs is thrown over mine. I never would’ve pegged him for a cuddler, and I grin as I slowly wiggle my way free.
“Hmm,” he growls, annoyed at losing me even in his sleep. “Perry.”
My heart stutters at the way he says my name. I peek at him, not wanting to wake him. He doesn’t wake, so I take a moment to study him, my gaze skimming over his strong cheekbones, the bump in his nose, and his soft-looking lips.
Down, girl.
I climb out of bed before I can do something crazy like kiss him or trail my fingers over his abs.
I tiptoe down the hallway to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, chugging down half of it in one gulp. I scan the woods outside, but it’s quiet and still.
They haven’t found you, I tell myself as I set my empty cup in the sink and head back to bed.
Running my fingers along the wall, I try to determine where I am in the dimly lit house. I count one door, then another, then step inside.
I expect to see the bed and Luca’s sleeping form. Instead, I seem to have walked into the wrong room.
The moonlight shines through the open window. I pause, making out a desk holding a computer and bookshelves lining one wall.
This must be his office. I think his bedroom is one more door down, I think as I turn to leave.
That’s when I see it.
“That’s me,” I gasp, my gaze locking onto the photo of me hanging on the wall by the door.
I turn the lights on, blinking against the sudden brightness. Finally, my eyes adjust, and I cover my mouth in horror.
There are photos of me on every wall.
I back up, spinning around to take it all in.
A picture of me with my eyes closed, my face turned up to the sun, hangs on the wall across from his desk.
Another of me smiling at someone hangs on the wall next to the bedroom door.
My eyes land on the framed photo on his desk.
Panic claws at me, and I back up further, trying to make sense of it all.
Oh, God. Was he hired to find me? Is he working for Bryan? For the Bianchis? For my parents?
How could I be so stupid to fall for his trap? Now I—
I whirl around as I hear footsteps behind me, staring up at Luca in shock.
“Perry… I can explain.”