Chapter 31 Luca
LUCA
The butler let me inside and escorted me to the drawing room. “Bastien will be here momentarily—”
“Already here.” Bastien walked inside in just his sweatpants and ink for a shirt.
I was jealous he looked so comfortable and I was confined to my jeans.
Bastien turned back to his butler before he sat down. “Bring some of those bacon-wrapped scallops.”
“Of course, sir.” He left.
“You’re still on that?” I asked as I helped myself to a drink.
He took a seat in the armchair and lounged on the cushions. He didn’t make himself a drink.
I sat down and grabbed a cigar from the tray on the coffee table. I lit up, drinking his liquor and smoking his cigars while he didn’t join in on the fun.
He watched me across the table. “So?”
“You didn’t talk to Carvel?”
He shook his head. “We haven’t spoken.”
At least Carvel wasn’t going around sharing Aliénor’s personal business. “She was an escort for a few years. That’s how she met Carvel. It wasn’t serious, but they did have a…thing.” It made me uncomfortable. Made me a little sick. But I pushed it aside like a man.
Bastien didn’t react to that.
“She was eighteen at the time. Had nowhere else to turn.”
“How long was she in that line of business?”
“About four years. Then the Oath found her, and she ran.”
He gave a slight nod. “That girl’s had a hard life.”
I pitied her more than I showed. I pitied her the moment she begged for my help and was willing to do anything to earn it. “Yeah, she has.” I took a drink from the glass and put it down.
“Where does that leave the two of you?”
The second I’d walked up to the two of them, I could feel the tension. See that she was pale as a ghost. That he was uncomfortable and even a little angry. My stomach had dropped and my hands went numb, but I didn’t show it. “Doesn’t change anything.”
Approval moved through his eyes, and he gave a nod. “Good for you, Luca.”
“I don’t want to fuck this up.” I still didn’t want to fuck it up. Even knowing she slept with one of my boys—for money and for free—didn’t change my perspective. “What would you do if this was Fleur?”
“Fuck,” he blurted. “Don’t do that to me. She’s my wife. It’s different.”
“If this was before she was your wife.”
“She’s always been my wife,” he said. “From the start, she was the one.”
I continued to stare at him and hoped he’d answer the question.
“No,” he finally said. “It wouldn’t change anything. I’d want to punch Carvel in the face, but it wouldn’t change anything.”
I knew I’d made the right decision because I felt no anger or resentment. If I’d chosen to end things with her, I’d be drinking myself into a stupor and smashing vases.
“Talked to Carvel?”
“No.”
“Hash it out with him and put this behind you—and go back to being happy.”
I knew he would be at headquarters tonight, so I stopped by. I thought it was better to catch him off guard, so whatever he felt about the situation wouldn’t have a chance to simmer and then boil.
I walked in and found him yelling on the phone. “You know we don’t do extensions. I’ll put you last on the rotation, but that’s the best I can do.” He hung up and shoved the phone back into his front pocket. That was when he noticed me, and he stilled.
I entered farther into the room and dropped into one of the ornate wooden armchairs.
He continued to stare at me.
I nodded to the other chair for him to join me.
He hesitated before he took a seat, slouched, one ankle on the opposite knee, arms crossed. “How do you want to do this?”
“I’m fine with it. Let’s put it behind us.”
He slowly cocked his head like he didn’t understand what I said. “Put it behind us?”
“Yes.”
“Let me tell you my side of the story—”
“I don’t need your side, Carvel.” Nor did I want the details. Didn’t want to be reminded that he knew my woman’s body like I did. “It’s in the past. I don’t judge her for how she earned money, and I don’t care that the two of you were somewhat involved.”
He studied my face in search of a lie. “Sleeping with the same girl isn’t new. We do it all the time. But being in a relationship with one of them…is a little weird.”
“It’s not weird for me.”
“Really?” he challenged.
“You seem to have the problem with it, not me.”
“If you’d let me tell you my side of the story, you’d know why.” He stared me down.
I stared back.
“We were more than just somewhat involved.”
I believed Aliénor. I trusted her. And that faith wouldn’t falter now. “You’re entitled to your perception, Carvel.”
“My perception?” he asked incredulously. “I fucked her without—”
“Be very careful how you tread here.”
“I’m just saying it’s more than what she made it out to be.”
“How do you know? I haven’t told you what was said.”
“If she told you the whole truth, then you would know I wouldn’t want you to see her.”
My stomach tightened in discomfort.
He continued his stare like we were opponents rather than allies on the same side.
“It’s been years, Carvel. Let’s move on.”
“I really cared about her. And she knows that. There’s no scenario where she doesn’t know exactly how I felt.”
I felt a tight cord around my neck. Felt it around my arms and the increase in the pulse underneath my skin.
“And then she just disappeared. Her apartment was abandoned, she dropped her number, and I looked for her for months but couldn’t find her. Now, I guess part of the reason for that was that she gave me a different name. I had no idea what the fuck happened to her.”
I wasn’t sure if I should share those details.
If she wanted him to know, she would have already told him.
That proved that she’d told the truth, that his feelings weren’t reciprocated.
Otherwise, she would have shared with him as she shared with me.
“Carvel, you know I’m not the kind of guy to cross boundaries like that.
But this relationship is already solidified now, and I’m not going to walk away just because you two had a past. I’m sorry that it bothers you, but I’m invested at this point, and I’m not giving her up. ”
He stared at me with a stone-like face, his features hard like they’d been carved with a knife.
“Then I guess we have nothing else to discuss.” He abruptly left the chair, and it tipped over from his momentum.
Then he walked out of the room, his boots audible on the stairs as he left headquarters altogether.
I’m coming by.
Her dots were immediate. Okay.
Our relationship had profoundly changed because I’d stopped asking her permission. I just told her what was happening, and she accepted it.
I walked in the door ten minutes later, and her heels had been left by the entry under the hooks where she hung up her coat. The apartment smelled like food, a hot meal coming from the kitchen.
I spotted her by the counter, barefoot but still in a tight skirt and blouse.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of me, our tense conversation a memory in the past. She moved into me and rose on her highest tiptoes to kiss me.
My arm hooked across the small of her back, and I lifted her slightly, my neck bending to kiss her, feeling the same heat between us despite the waves that tried to douse it.
“Hungry?” She planted her hands on my chest as she pulled away.
“Always.”
She smiled then turned back to the stove. “Set the table.”
It’d been a long time since I’d done anything like that, but I found the white plates in the cabinet and put them on the little table near the flower vase. Then I grabbed a couple of forks and spoons and knives, unsure what we were eating.
She opened the oven door then pulled out a sizzling hot pan.
When the smell hit me, I knew it was pot roast. Smelled pretty damn good.
She set it on top of the stove to cool and then sliced up a baguette she must have grabbed on her way home. Tossed it in a bowl and put it in the center of the table before she uncorked a bottle of wine.
I took a seat and watched her work, watched her make a home so naturally. She couldn’t cook the way my chef did, but in some ways, I actually preferred what she made.
She didn’t make conversation as she worked, too focused on what she was doing.
Fine by me, I enjoyed the show.
She eventually set the deep dish on an oven mitt in the center of the table, along with a large spoon for serving.
A woman had never cooked for me, had never done anything for me before her.
She served herself first, and then I plopped the meat, potatoes, and carrots onto my plate. I’d come here with an agenda, but the food was hot and good, and it stole my focus. She didn’t say much either, just watching me eat and taking her time with her meal.
I kept grabbing pieces of bread and using them as a spoon to shovel the tender meat into my mouth.
“Like it?” she teased.
Too busy chewing, I just nodded.
She chuckled.
“A lot better than those bacon-wrapped scallops that Bastien wouldn’t shut up about.”
She chuckled again, this time substantially louder.
I wasn’t a funny guy and didn’t make jokes, but I’d somehow made her laugh. And she was cute when she laughed.
“How was your day?” she asked. “Or your night, I should say.”
It was the very reason I was there. “Fine.”
She never pushed for more information. Just accepted what I offered her. “Working on the fall catalogue right now…already. It’s not even spring yet. But we have a lot of great pieces to debut at Milan Fashion Week. I’m excited.”
I was glad I’d gotten her that job because she’d been noticeably happier since she started working there. Made decent money and devoted her time to something she was actually interested in. I hated that she’d lost everything, and now I wanted to give her everything I could.
I finished my food first and wiped my mouth before I watched her.
With my arms crossed over my chest and my ankles crossed under the table, I relaxed, enjoying the silent companionship we had.
It reminded me of my relationship with Bastien, when the two of us could just smoke together and not say anything for an hour.
It wasn’t awkward or tense. Just natural.
She finished her food then drank from her wineglass.
“I spoke to Carvel.”
She swallowed the drink she took, and then she slowly tensed, like she hoped that this subject had long been buried.
“The relationship seemed to mean more to him than it did to you.”
She wouldn’t look at me, her fingers resting on the rim of the wineglass.
My eyes pierced the side of her face.
She remained quiet, physically uncomfortable.
“He doesn’t want me to see you.”
Her head snapped in my direction instantly, a jolt of fear in her eyes so profound it looked like she might cry.
She felt horrible, and I was a horrible man for feeling good about that.
“That fact alone tells me whatever you two had meant something to him.”
She looked away, drawing a slow and pained breath. She stared into her empty wineglass as if there was something to see.
“You weren’t entirely truthful with me.”
“I was fucked either way.” Her hand moved over her mouth, and she fidgeted.
“How so?”
“Because if I shared how Carvel felt, it might have made him look bad, and I didn’t want to do that. His business is his business. He deserves to keep it to himself if he wants. I’m surprised he told you anything.”
“He didn’t. But it’s obvious.”
She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “What now?”
I didn’t blame Carvel for getting wound up tight about Aliénor, even if it was years in the past. She was the only woman I’d ever met who changed me. The only woman who softened my indestructible exterior. “Nothing.”
She paused before she looked at me, like she was scared to. “What do you mean?”
I could see how scared she was to lose me. How I ever doubted that this was real was beyond me. “It’s okay, baby.”
The relief on her face was indescribable.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Maybe Carvel just needed some time to process the shock of it all. When he calmed down in a week or so, he would see reason and let this go. “I don’t care what happened between you. I’ll never ask. I don’t care if Carvel doesn’t like it. He’ll get over it.”
She released a breath like she’d been holding it for minutes.
The relief swept across her face like the incoming tide, and the affection in her eyes was like one of those sunsets that burned red and orange as if it were on fire.
Her heart was on her sleeve. She’d tried to play it cool in the beginning, but now she couldn’t pretend if her life depended on it.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. ”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I’d told Carvel I was invested in this, but invested wasn’t the right word.
I was committed with undying loyalty, pledging my life and honor to fight for a woman like she was the queen who commanded me.
I didn’t know when that moment had happened.
When my life stopped being about me—but us.
When my dedication couldn’t be shaken by former lovers or strained friendships or half-truths.
I was all in for this woman.
That meant her battles were my battles. That meant those who wronged her had wronged me. That meant whoever had hurt her would hurt a million times worse.
She’d never asked me to destroy those who killed her family. Never told me who it was. I should stay out of a conflict that seemed to have been resolved.
But I couldn’t stay out of it.
I needed to finish this—for her.
I wanted blood.
I wanted bones.
I wanted revenge.
For her.