He spins and the hurt is evident in his dark, tumultuous eyes.
“I’m in love with you and I don’t want to share you.”
“Having my entire heart isn’t enough?” he asks, brows furrowed.
That stops me in my tracks. “Of course it is.”
“It wasn’t enough for me, so I changed all the things in my life that had the potential to destroy your heart and mine in the process. When I told you that meeting you changed everything, I meant it. I’m sorry that you can’t respect me as much as I do you. I’m going to call Santino to pick me up.”
“Got what you came for and now you’re leaving? Got it.” I narrow my eyes at him. All the things I should say to him right now on the tip of my tongue, but only the evil and ill-trusting offenses come to the surface. “I won’t apologize for loving you. That’s the only reason I said what I said. Any woman in my shoes would feel anger and jealousy when told some whore bag had their boyfriend’s dick in her mouth. I challenge you to show me someone who wouldn’t care at all.”
He widens his eyes. “Oh, I could show you hundreds, but that’s not the point. I want unconditional love and it’s obvious you’re not capable of that right now.”
I throw my arms up. “You’re just going to break up with me?”
He glances over his shoulder. “I’m not breaking up with you, Elizabeth. I’m giving you space.”
“I don’t want space.” Folding my arms across my chest, I try to cover myself. “Don’t you get it? I just want you. I don’t want you to leave. Don’t leave me. Ever.” Holding back the tears is difficult when all I can think about is him walking out my door.
He’s intuitive. I can tell he knows what I’m not saying. Luca sighs and turns to approach slowly. He wraps his arms around me. I don’t make a move to hug him back even though the relief is all I feel in this moment. I’m safe. “Give me a tour of our house then.”
I wipe under my eyes and grab a silk robe from a hook behind my door. “I’m sorry I said the industry is sick and perverted. I only meant the woman sucking your dick was sick and perverted. It was veiled jealousy.” I say, leading him to the office across the hall.
“She didn’t suck,” Luca counters, walking with me.
“That’s the equivalent ofI did not have sexual relations with thatwomanyou realize?”
That garners a chuckle. “I’d also like to apologize. Overreacting has been a thing for me these days.”
I breathe deeply. “Thank you for changing your life for me, by the way. I never wanted to be the woman who wanted to change a man. I’ve heard you can’t do that successfully, anyway.” I look at him. “But you did it on your own.”
When we get into the living room after the super speed house tour, I turn on a Christmas radio station and let the music pour through the speakers all throughout the house. “Can I have this dance?” He extends his hand, still only wearing a pair of jeans slung low on his hips.
“You may,” I say, taking his hand and pressing myself against him. My heart rate calms as the nostalgic jingle from the song soothes me. For just this second, I forget our fight, the lie, and all the negative things stacked against Luca and me.
Luca’s chest rumbles with a laugh. “I almost forgot. Gabby wanted me to tell you something.”
I smirk. “That she couldn’t tell me herself?”
“Too embarrassed. She calls her boy toy’s tigers. For some reason, she thinks you think she’s actually fucking the tiger. The cat.”
I did. “Well that’s a relief.” I keep my tone sarcastic and light, not letting the mortification seep out. “On that note, let’s have a drink and discuss the Christmas light situation.”
“About that,” Luca says, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “I’m really hoping not to get injured.”
Chapter Eleven
The love
“MY GOD INHeaven, that man is really aman, Lizzy,” Gramma drawls in her half southern, half New York accent. She grins like the cat who caught the mouse as she spies on Luca from the kitchen, peeking around the corner like a full-on stalker. “I know you’ve told the story a bunch of times since you got here, but let the Christmas Eve magic come, and tell me the truth.”
I’m tired of talking. Why are holidays nothing but non-stop talking? My jaw actually hurts, and it’s not from the blow job I gave Luca last night. Even my teeth feel worn out from the questions. Like, I may be under scrutiny more now that I have a boyfriend than when I was the pitied spinster. “You know the truth,” I say. “Shay told me you guys wouldn’t believe me. I finally got lucky. Luca is a great man.” That should be a good enough explanation, but Mom didn’t buy it either. I’d pay to be a fly on the wall in my parent’s bedroom tonight. Oh, the things they’re going to say about me and Luca. Looking at my watch, I see it’s almost nine p.m. “It’s time to open our one Christmas Eve present,” I announce.
“If you say so, darling. Aunt Wendy and Dad are heavy into the bottle so they probably won’t be able to join in.” Ah, good point, Grams. I drain the rest of my wine, and pour another glass. Luca is entertaining my cousin’s seven-year-old. He’s got a deck of cards and looks like he’s doing bad magic tricks, but fuck does he look hot doing it.
The Christmas tree is glowing behind Luca, and it really is picture-perfect so I pull out my cell phone and capture a shot of him. Then take one more that doesn’t have his whole face for social media. “Time for presents! Just one on Christmas Eve.” The little girl squeals and takes the deck from Luca and hurries to rummage through the mound of presents under the tree.
Luca is relaxed, and fuck if he’s completely comfortable in this environment. Not in his palace by the sea or his mansions scattered across the world, but in my mom’s living room in a middle-class neighborhood. There’s still a chip on the entertainment center where I tripped and fell as a teenager. This is the house that raised me and it warms my heart to see how much Luca… fits. After my family’s awe transformed into a weary acceptance of the story of our meeting, they seem to think he fits, too. Their approval checks another box for me. Even though what they think shouldn’t matter, it does and as tired as I am of the questions, it’s a cozy elation buzzing my bones. “What did you get me?” he asks, waggling one brow. “Or do I get my present later? When we’re alone?”
