TWENTY-FIVE
Luca
The sharp chime of my phone pulled me out of sleep. I squinted at the screen, barely registering the message icon glowing next to Charlie’s name. Swiping it open, I sat up straighter.
A picture.
At 3:13 a.m.
Charlie, looking completely stunning, a green dress clinging to her curves, leaning into another beautiful woman.. The two of them on a bed, tousled hair, smudged makeup, and laughter in their eyes. Suggestive as hell, the kind of shot that left no room for subtlety. This kind of text was every man’s dream. How was I supposed to sleep after that?
I stared at it for longer than I wanted to admit, trying to decipher the meaning. Was this for me? Was it a joke? Or was she sending it to someone else, and I just got lucky in the crossfire?
What was worse—asking or assuming?
I didn’t have an answer, but I also didn’t respond.
Instead, I pulled myself out of bed and threw on a shirt, heading towards the vineyard to distract myself. Eventually, the early morning sun stretched across the rolling hills, a reminder of why I loved this place. But my mind wasn’t on the vines today. I needed a distraction from my distraction. Time to get back on track.
Around six, Gia’s voice rang out as I entered the main house. She was leaning over the kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone. Thankfully, the vineyard was built on a home, so we were often here at the same time—doing business, hosting events, or escaping reality.
“You’re up early,”
she said, glancing at me before returning to whatever article she was reading.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
I reached for a mug and poured myself some coffee.
“Charlie Monroe’s coming to visit the vineyard today,”
she said casually, not even looking up.
I froze, mid-pour. “What?”
“Yeah, I invited her to the vineyard. Luca, she’s in Amalfi, per l’amor di Dio! It’s perfect timing. I want this opportunity to work.”
I set the coffee pot down with a clatter. My mind went straight back to that picture. Did she send it to mess with me? Was this some kind of game? This way typical my role with women.
Gia noticed my expression and narrowed her eyes. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing,”
I muttered, taking a sip of coffee to stall.
“You look like someone kicked your puppy. What’s going on? Are you having lady problems?”
She tilted her head, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
“Gia—”
“Did someone finally tell you no?”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, waiting.
I didn’t answer, but the silence spoke for me.
“Dio mio,”
she said, eyes widening. “It is like that. Luca, what the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t just any girl. This is our new business partner. She’s fun, smart, and—newsflash—this is an incredible opportunity for the vineyard.”
I glared at her. “I know that.”
“What is wrong with you? Stop acting like an idiot. Private tours, international clients—this could be huge for us. But you’re too busy sulking over God-knows-what to focus on the bigger picture.”
I gritted my teeth, Gia’s words cutting through the noise in my head.
She sighed, softening. “Seriously, Luca. What’s your deal? Is it Charlie? Did you not like her? Or did you like like her? You’ve been off since Paris.”
It was Charlie. Of course it was Charlie. But how was I supposed to explain that? Gia didn’t need to be involved in any of my personal business. Charlie was now both, personal and business, which made it complicated. Why was I acting weird about this? I was excited to see Charlie? Just not in front of my family because they made a deal out of everything. They would read something into this whatever between us when that’s not what it is. Charlie and I are on the same page. Plus, I never mix business with pleasure.
That the idea of her showing up here, on my turf, had me restless in a way I couldn’t explain.
This wasn’t typical.
And the fact that I was having this entire internal debate proved I was completely, irreversibly fucked.
“Luca?”
Gia prompted.
I shook my head, brushing past her. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her laugh followed me out the door. “Yeah, because you’ve got it all figured out.”
I didn’t. Obviously.
But in a few hours, I would see her again. And whether I liked it or not, there was no going back. Gia’s words hang in the air long after she’s walked out of the room. I want this opportunity to work. I wanted that just the same as her.
I paced the length of the office, my mind spinning like a broken record. I needed to get her out of my system. This…thing, whatever it was, can’t keep distracting me.
I needed a new distraction. Option one: I scrolled through my phone, skimming through the messages from women I’ve kept in contact with and seen more than once. I sent a few texts to get the ball rolling. But as I stared at their names, all I felt was…nothing. No spark. No desire. I immediately hope nobody responds.
Fine. Option two: Throw myself into work. The vineyard needed me, and there’s no shortage of things to do. I opened my laptop and pulled up the endless spreadsheets Gia insisted I review. But the numbers blurred together. My focus drifted to the memory of Charlie’s laugh, the way it lit up the air around her, pulling me in like I had no choice in the matter. My thoughts moved quickly to how I loved the way she tasted. Fuck!
I slammed the laptop shut.
Step three: Keep it casual. Spend a night out with friends, drink too much wine, flirt with someone new, and let the noise drown out her pull. That’s always worked before. But the thought of meaningless conversation and hollow connections feels…tedious. Empty.
I rubbed the back of my neck and leaned against the desk, exhaling hard. None of it seems appealing. None of it would work. Because the problem wasn’t the usual problem. Charlie wasn’t just another beautiful woman I could charm, sleep with and forget. I could hear my name on her lips.
And she’s coming here.
I pressed my palms against the desk, steadying myself. It doesn’t help. If I’m going to get her out of my system, I’ll need a new plan. Maybe having sex again was the solution. This attraction just needed to be fucked out of me. That has to be it—unfinished business. It made sense—I would be able to just move on like normal.