Lucca's Lust: The Luminara Series Book 3 (10 page)

When she refused me in the club today, fuck that was a new experience for me and a kick in the balls. For a brief moment I was going to take it personally, but maybe it is her way. Maybe her morals are very high and there is a chance that she would have considered going on a date with me had we not met in her workplace.

“Lucca, you are putting me in an awkward position here.” He sounds tetchy.

“Just give me the basic information I ask, Mark, and save me some time,” I plead, taking a seat at my desk and scrolling through my desktop files to find the file for the clubs employee database.

“No, she is not attached nor has any interest to be,” he mentions sharply.

I pause, close my eyes, and drag my teeth over my bottom lip. A weight has just been lifted off my shoulders and I silently thank my lucky fucking stars.

“Okay, that is a start. I am going to wait until she comes back from her trip, and I will ask her again if she would like to go on that date. Unless of course you would like to give me her number?” I ask optimistically.

“I am sorry, Lucca. I cannot give her number out without permission. If there is nothing else, I’ll say goodbye.” It is not lost on me that he sounds irate.

The buzz of the dial tone indicates he has hung up on me. Not that I am surprised, I would probably do the same thing if I was challenged like that. Honestly, I admire this fellow’s professionalism. He has Lexi’s best interests at heart and that is reassuring. At least I know she is available and I very much plan on making her mine. So a challenge it will be. Thank fuck I am one determined son of a bitch.

I have probably left him baffled, but fuck it. I found out more tonight than I hoped for. I completely forgot to check the employee database because Savio knocks on the door and tells me the game is about to start.

I advise him I have finished up with my business and close down the desktop, gathering a few things from my desk. Savio plonks his ass on the sofa and watches me curiously.

“What is going on with you? And do not tell me nothing. You have been distant most of the night. Is it because of what I said earlier? I am really sorry about that, Bro.” He takes a swig of his beer.

“No, it is not that. Honestly, you said nothing wrong. My mind is just occupied because I met someone today and I cannot get her out of my fucking head,” I say.

“Oh, a good lady has my brother’s attention. Fuck, this does not happen every day. Tell me about her,” he says in a more serious tone. Whenever my papa is unavailable, Savio, being the oldest, has always stood in as our confidante and head of the family. Even though he is only just a few years older than me, I give him his place and still look up to him, appreciating his support and considering his opinions.

“That is just it. She is a
good lady,
seems like the type I would like to spend the rest of my life with. But she blew me off.” I smirk and Savio laughs.

“Well, well. Are you losing your charm? What did you do to her?” He playfully punches my shoulder.

“Nothing. That is just it. She refused to date or see me. It just makes me want her even more. She does not seem like other women. There is something about her, something that has captured and intrigued me, not to mention she is very beautiful,” I add, gesturing towards the door.

“Then you do whatever it takes to win her over. You are not getting any younger. Come on, Lucca, do not let me down. You are the king of charm,” he says, switching off the study light while I open the door for him.

“You sound like Papa.” I scoff when we reach the hallway.

“Yeah and he is wise. You know he talks a lot of sense.”

“Look, Bro, do not mention this to Mamma. You know how she gets. Fuck, I do not even know a single thing about this girl. If she thinks I am interested in someone, she will be planning fucking wedding menus,” I joke, walking back through the house to head upstairs to the third floor, Savio following behind me.

After a rowdy and noisy night of shouting and swearing at the Champions league final, some friendly banter, and several drinks later by the pool, the lads are pissed and decide to call it a night and crash. I let them find a bed either in the house or the guest accommodation out the back, as there is plenty to choose from.

Entering my suite, I lift my running T-shirt up to my nose and inhale the intoxicating scent that I would very much like to have permanently lingering on me, on my body. The smell of Lexi. I wash up and swallow two pain killers and an anti-inflammatory pill, hoping I get a good sleep and tomorrow my back pain will be non-existent.

Collapsing on the bed with exhaustion, I fall into a deep sleep dreaming about big, brown, sweet eyes, luscious glossy lips, smooth skin, and the sexiest body I have ever seen. When I wake, I have the biggest fucking hard-on known to man, which I am about to take care of when I jolt up in a panic.

I do not even know her surname. I never got her surname and I never checked the employee database because Savio distracted me. Fuck, why did I not think to ask Mark this? What a fundamental cockup.

Reaching over, I grab my tablet as I want to access the database file to find out when I realise the time. Fuck! I have slept in. I never sleep in. Lexi must have expertly massaged every piece of tension out of my body yesterday. I have never slept this late as long as I can remember.

Shit, my meeting. I jump up with ease as my back pain has almost vanished, have a shower, throw on a suit, grab my bags, and meet Peter downstairs with Marco waiting to go. Rose, bless her, has already made the lads a full Scottish breakfast. She really is a treasure.

I refuse breakfast as I need to get into Osurac head office as soon as possible. Instead, I grab some fruit, but Rose insists on packing up a toasted bacon sandwich for me. After saying goodbye to the lads and my beautiful kind Rose, Peter takes Marco and me to head office.

Four hours later and the longest fucking meeting in the history of all meetings, I prepare to go. Kimberley had to cancel my lunch-time flight from Glasgow to Tuscany and reschedule me on the next available one because the meeting ran over. It leaves me feeling agitated because all I can think about is that Lexi might have been on that plane.

Fucking twisted hand of fate screwing with me again.

After Peter drops us off in the airport, we have just about enough time to grab a quick beer in the executive lounge. I scan the airport, watch the check-in desks, suss out the duty free, but nothing. I know I am not missing her because I would recognise her instantly in a heartbeat. She must have been on the earlier flight.

“Are you going to tell me why you were quiet last night and why you seem so harassed today, stalking every passenger to walk through the airport?” Marco asks, sitting in the chair in front of me.

Marco is very trustworthy and a great mate, as are the other lads, but Marco and I have the longest history together so he is very much like a brother to me. He gets my upbringing and knew me before I became a successful business mogul.

He knew me.

He knows me.

Our childhood summers were spent running through vineyards, hanging out in the truffle fields, in his papa’s art galleries, or at my parents and grandparents villas. Many summer days we loved adventures on Lorenzo’s papa’s boat. Then after a long day at sea we would grill the fish we caught over hot coals on the beach.

We collected blueberries, olives, oranges, and truffles. We dove off the pier, made rope swings and a treehouse. If we were lucky, we were allowed into the kitchen on big feast nights and helped the chef prepare the food.

Some of my fondest memories are of Marco, my siblings, and myself going to Viagreggio’s Carnival, visiting the Calcio Storico Fiorentino in Florence, and watching the medieval games at Ferie Delle Messi in San Gimignano. Our parents wanted us to experience ancient and traditional festivals celebrated year and year again in Tuscany.

I still remember Marco’s papa, Marcario, showing us how to hang artwork in his studios when we were only teenagers, and learning how to make ragu sauce from my mamma. My nonna even taught us all about the flowers in her garden, and Marco’s mamma … she let us paint on blank canvas. Of course we were not very good; it resulted in us covered from head to toe in primary paint, only to get thrown in a bath to get scrubbed with a thick bristly brush and soap.

Marco and I had some amazing times together, along with the Bartolomei twin brothers, my good friend Lorenzo, and our other friends Francesca, Adela, Paulo, who is Gina’s brother, and the Di Piertro brothers.

We were all the same age and at school together. We were a team. While Savio and his friends were stuck in their homework, Armando and his friends were younger and not allowed the same privileges as we were and not allowed to roam too far. Orianna was just too little and never left my papa’s sight. But I was a traveller, an explorer, and loved the outdoors.

My friends and I, we were kings of the Chianti hills. Or so we thought. We roamed, we discovered, and we were free. Free to live the Tuscan life the way a young boy should.

We fished, went on double dates, picnics, and we learned all about romance from our papas. It was something that was ingrained in us. It was taught to us from an early age. We were meant to be lovers, providers, and caretakers. We were meant to charm our girlfriends but never lose focus of working hard and being the primary provider. It was mapped out for us.

Marco’s first love and long-term girlfriend, Adela, sadly died of womb cancer only two years after his mamma died of breast cancer. He has never quite got over it and never dated anyone else since that I am aware of. We share similar emotions and experiences and have both dealt with it in extremely different ways.

My situation with Jasmine was completely different because she was never my girlfriend … just an amazing woman and friend, and ironically cancer hadn’t killed her in the end. I always wondered if that was why I felt a connection to Jasmine when first meeting her. She was suffering from ovarian cancer so it brought back memories of Adela and her unfortunate battle.

When I was going through my treatment, Marco was the only person other than Jasmine I confided in. He, more than anyone, knows how wicked cancer is and how much it destroys people … loved ones … families. Marco very seldom talks about Adela. It hurts him far too much. I get that.

For a few months after Uncle Genaro, Jasmine, and my son left me, I could not talk about them either. Casey helped. I encouraged Marco to talk with her, but he coped with it in his own ways. He dives. Seems to be good distraction for him. He loves the ocean.

Despite everything we have experienced as adults, our childhood was amazing. We were lucky growing up, our group … our friends, we were different. Carefree, outgoing, adventurous, and well thought of by the older community.

Boy did they love us. Our manners, charm, and willingness to help, learn, and embrace the life the Tuscan natives set before us made us very popular.

We lived our dream.

I remember Savio having two friends, geeky guys who went on to do computing in later years. Not sure if he even keeps in touch with them. Armando … he was continually grounded, in trouble, forever in detention, and making apologies.

I love that man with every fucking heartbeat, but he gave my parents some grief and worry over the years. Very mischievous, and he wonders where that boy of his, A-Jay, gets his spirit from.

Armando has always been a rule breaker and so different from the rest of us. When he dated Sarah, she managed to settle him and keep him out of trouble … Sarah being simple living, plain, and down to earth, was the polar opposite of Armando, but they work.

My mamma idolises Sarah because she keeps Armando in line. She treats and accepts both Sarah and Kate like her own daughters. She only ever wants to see us boys happy and in love. It seems to be her mission in life.

Fuck … I bet I am a big disappointment.

It is mind baffling how four children from the same family are so different. Orianna, the youngest of our family, she is a fucking heart roaster. A complete fucking heart attack on a plate. I really do not know how my papa allowed her to do half the things she did and slept at night.

Maybe that is just it … he does not know what she gets up to. She is similar to Armando in nature, spirited, yet the two of them fight like cats and fucking dogs, then make up two seconds later.

Orianna … she is my closest. I love all my siblings dearly, but she is my weakness. I am not sure if it comes from my papa’s influence about treating women right and drilling into us to love one another and look out for her.

I love her for her waywardness, skittishness, and diva-ness, but most importantly I respect her the most and we have the tightest bond between all four of us. She just does not realise it yet because she is still immature, but my little sister will be the death of me, and fuck, does she push my buttons at times.

I think Savio is overly protective of her, Armando is too passive … like a friend, casual and relaxed, but I … I just get her and I will do anything for her. Even if that means sticking up for her when she is acting like an almighty childish bitch.

She is my sister … I love her. I will never let anyone harm her. At times, yeah, she needs a good kick up the ass. I can say that, but I would set a torch to any fucker who ever dared say it about her.

Marco and Orianna have had some mighty tiffs over the years. I thought at one point Marco was interested in her and wanted to be with her when he was grieving after losing Adela. I put an almighty stop to that. No fucking way was I having my best mate and my baby sister involved. Too fucking weird. Well, it was when we were younger …
That
would have been a big deal to me then.

It was painfully obvious it would never work. Anna … she is a live cannon. Marco is different. He was grieving from his mamma’s death, Adela’s death, and Orianna was desperate for male attention. It would be the darkest domes of Hell, if I had let her take advantage of Marco when he was at his weakest.