6. Lucia
Chapter six
Lucia
J et lag is a bitch, and I either have the worst case of it or the beginnings of a cold. I stumble over the threshold of my Paris apartment, dropping my bag in the middle of the hall as the door bangs closed behind me.
My eyelids droop, literally unable to stay open long enough to drag my body into the kitchen to make dinner, lunch, or whatever meal I’m meant to be eating now. Hunger is quickly falling in importance behind my need for sleep.
London Fashion Week, followed by a couple weeks in Tokyo, meant my days were long and hectic. But after Papa’s arranged marriage surprise, and his even more manipulative announcement of my engagement, I’ve officially lost control of my life.
Lucia Romano and Giovanni Barbieri Surprise Engagement. The headline from one of the Italian national newspapers that’s seared into my retinas after hours spent reading through too many online stories on the flight home.
These few weeks were supposed to be a career highlight for me; instead, every achievement I made has been lost in the storm clouds of a publicity nightmare. I want to hide until it ends. My comfy sofa beckons as a safe haven, and I sink into it, pulling a throw around my shoulders.
After my meeting with my father, escaping to other countries for work seemed appealing at the time.
But the reality is I couldn’t flee my problems. They’ve only become worse.
Every muscle in my body is pulled tight with exhaustion, and I’m about to snap under the pressure.
The hardest part is knowing that whatever decision I make—to marry or not—I’m going to disappoint my family or hurt my best friend.
Ant and Gio are barely on speaking terms after a massive argument, and it’s all over me. My eyelids slide shut, and like every other time, my brain buzzes with thoughts of how to fix this mess. I’m no closer to answering that question and, as a result, no closer to a proper night’s sleep.
It boils down to two simple facts. I don’t want to marry a man I don’t love, and I don’t want to be the reason the Barbieris lose controlling shares in their family company.
I’ve hardly spoken to Antonio after our first difficult call the night I arrived in London.
He’s angry with his father, his brother, and probably me too.
There’s nothing I can say at this point to help that, especially when we’re thousands of miles apart.
We need to speak in person, not by text. Or even FaceTime.
The fragile emotional string I was initially hanging by has become a stronger tether, and with a decent sleep, I’ll be ready to face Antonio, Gio, and even my father.
I begged Antonio for time during that initial call, and after he’d yelled and swore for a good ten minutes, he agreed.
But now my time is up, and I need to be ready to make some decisions.
I kick off my heels, flipping my legs up to the chair and curling up into a ball. This really is the comfiest sofa, squishier than the firm mattress on my bed. A peaceful cocoon for me to replenish my strength. But right as I tug the throw higher up to my chin, my cell buzzes with an incoming text.
With a loud huff, I stretch one arm out to snatch it up. Then, seeing it’s Ant, my stomach clenches around the lump of dread filling it.
Antonio: Can I come see you tomorrow?
Tomorrow? What day is it again?
Me: I just got home and am barely functioning, having not slept for 24 hours.
Antonio : Sorry, but I need to see you.
I’m huffing and puffing louder than an old steam engine, so over this arranged marriage disaster—or I wish I was. But nothing ever gets solved by ignoring it, and Ant is just trying to help.
Me: Fine!! I’ll see you tomorrow. But not too early.
My text reads as grumpy as he sounded the last time we spoke, so I quickly add, Please.
There, that’s nicer, even if it hurts my head to think. And if I could get it together, I’d ask for another day. But it’s easier to agree for now, and after a nap, I’ll message him to suggest a later time.
Later, that’s a good idea. My cell slips from my fingers, landing with a soft bump on the thick rug below, and I don’t bother to retrieve it. I don’t even lift my head off the cushion. All I do is close my eyes and drift off, not without another thought, but eventually to sleep.
Blissful, uninterrupted sleep. Until—
Thump, thump, thump.
“Seriously, what now,” I grumble, wondering if whoever is at my door will disappear if I ignore the banging long enough.
Thump, thump, thump.
“Luce. It’s me.”
Why is Antonio here? Already? I blink open my bleary eyes. Sunlight streaming through my terrace door assaults them, and I squeeze them shut again. He said he wasn’t coming until tomorrow.
Thump, thump, thump.
“ Fuck ,” I mutter, because sometimes swearing in English makes me feel better. And dragging myself out of my cozy cocoon doesn’t feel good. I pad over to the door, pulling it open.
“Calm down, you’ll wake my neighbors,” I grumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “And why are you here, anyway? We agreed on tomorrow.”
A frown creases his brow. “It is tomorrow. And it’s lunchtime,” he states, striding through the door the moment it’s open wide enough. “I doubt anyone is still sleeping.”
“Lunchtime?” I repeat, scrubbing a hand over my face.
“Yep,” he replies before stopping to look at me like he’s peering through a microscope at a previously undiscovered creature. “What happened to you?”
“Stop,” I growl. “Don’t say another word.” I brush my hand through my hair, and my fingers snag in a bunch of knots. I don’t need a mirror to tell me I’m a mess. “Let’s start again. What day is it?”
“Tuesday,” he says slowly, like he’s speaking to a child.
My sleep-fuzzy brain struggles to compute how I’ve lost so many hours. “So I’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” I cover my yawn with a hand to my mouth. “Huh, it felt like only one.”
Ant shrugs before placing a bag on the kitchen counter. I step closer and lean in to sniff it. My grumpy mood lifts instantly at the delicious smells emanating from the brown paper.
“Can you give me a few minutes to freshen up, and then you can show me what’s in that bag.”
His chuckle follows me down the hallway as I dash to the bathroom. By the time I’m done, the smell of freshly brewed coffee teases my senses, drawing me back to the kitchen. A feast of almond croissants and pain au chocolat fills a tray in the center of the counter.
All of my favorites, and Ant’s noisy wake-up call is instantly forgiven.
Choosing a croissant off the top of the pile, I plop onto the stool beside him and take a big bite.
A shower of flaky pastry, sugar, and almonds falls around my hand.
Honestly, there’s no easy way to eat one without making a mess.
He places a steaming mug of coffee in front of me, and I sigh at the rich aroma wafting up. It’s almost enough to make me forget about the difficult conversation I know is coming.
“Grazie. You’ve saved me from certain starvation.” A bit of an exaggeration, but it has been at least twenty-four hours since I last ate. I take another bite into the buttery sweetness, and my tummy gurgles in appreciation.
A smile teases the corner of his lips. Normally, I’d be embarrassed in front of anyone else, but not Ant. He’s seen me at my worst and best, my weakest and my strongest.
After a couple sips of the delicious brew to wash it all down, I’m ready to talk. I place the cup back on the counter, then turn to face him. “Okay, you said you needed to talk. But first, does Gio know you’re here?”
Gio and I have shared a few calls over the last couple of weeks, trying to make sense of the contract. He’s been great at keeping me updated of his discussions with lawyers, and I don’t want Ant’s visit to widen the rift between the brothers.
His head droops as he stares down at the plate in front of him. “No. Well, not really,” he finally admits, bending forward and leaning his elbows on the slab of marble.
I wait for him to expand on that, my fingers curling around the handle of my mug but not bringing it to my lips this time.
He tilts his head to give me a sideways glance. “I came to ask you to marry me instead of Gio.”
What? Thank goodness I hadn’t taken a sip of coffee, or it would have sprayed all over him. My mouth opens, closes, then opens again.
“Can you say that again? But more slowly this time,” I manage to wheeze out, like one of the almonds I just ate is lodged in my throat.
He releases a heavy sigh. “Come on, Luce, this is hard enough to get out. You heard right. I’m asking you to marry me.”
“I can’t marry you. I’m engaged to your brother.” My voice is a high-pitched screech, and he jolts back from me as if I slapped him.
“You’d rather marry Gio?” His tone is harsh like he’s forcing the words up from the pit of his gut.
Blue-gray eyes stare into mine, searching for answers. But seemingly not finding what he’s looking for, he turns his gaze down again.
I place my hand on his arm, but he doesn’t look up. “No, Ant,” I soothe. “I’d rather marry no one and die a lonely, childless woman than marry a man I don’t love. But my father doesn’t agree.” Closing my eyes, I block out his hurt expression.
He draws in a deep breath. “I know that’s what you’ve always wanted. But in Capri, you said you wanted to find a man like me. Well, I’m here and asking you to marry me.”
“But then I’d be screwing up both our lives and probably losing my best friend in the process.”
“You wouldn’t be screwing up our lives. And you’re never going to lose me, I promise.” He finally looks up, and our gazes lock, the truth behind his words shining back at me.
“You’d do that? Marry me so your brother didn’t have to.”
“Yes. But I’d do it for you so you could still live your life on your terms.” He swallows deeply. “Gio is a good guy, but you barely know him. You know me. Better than anyone else.”