Page 36 of Pleasure Games

But nothing could have prepared her for their destination. Luca turned off the highway heading for one of the little villages with old stone and brick buildings rising crookedly along narrow winding streets. Luca turned down one street on the outskirts of the town, and between the trees that lined it she could see glimpses of the river. The steeply sloping roof of a large villa rose at the end of the road.

Was that where they were going?

Luca turned down a lane that also had trees on either side. At the end of the lane was what must have been a twelve-foot-high metal gate, and to the right of the gate was a humble stone cottage. Luca stopped in front of the house, turned the bike off and engaged the kickstand. “Wait here.”

He pulled off his helmet and hung it from a handlebar, ran his hands through his hair and slowly made his way to the door. An elderly gentleman opened it, looked Luca up and down and then gave him a bear hug.

Was that his father? Had Luca brought her home?

Luca and the man spoke for a few minutes before the man disappeared and then reappeared with a stout, elderly woman who practically mauled Luca. She gestured wildly and even from the distance, Jasmine could tell the woman was inviting Luca inside. He pointed to where Jasmine was sitting. The man tipped his head in greeting from the door but the woman only seemed to be frowning at her. Luca spoke again and gestured to the house and the man disappeared inside. When he reappeared, he handed something to Luca and, in return, Luca opened his bag and found something that he gave to the man.

What was it? Money?

After one more hug from the woman, Luca jogged back to join her. Considering he had obviously been reunited with people of significance to him, his expression was grim.

What was going on?

She had no time to ask because he popped his helmet back on, and without bothering to do up the strap, he straddled the bike in front of her and started it up. He drove slowly to the gate, climbed off the bike again, took a ring of keys that he’d obviously been given by the man and used one to unlock the gate. He swung it open, came back to drive through, stopped, and then closed and locked the gate behind them.

He mounted the bike again and they drove down the lane until a house came into view.

No. Not a house.

This was a French villa. Or a château or something.

It was a large, whitewashed, two-story structure with a steeply pitched roof of black tiles and vines creeping up the corners.

Luca stopped at the doors of the two-car garage and turned off the bike.

“We’re staying here?” Jasmine asked after she pulled off her helmet.

“Oui.”

“Who’s place is this?”

“It’s mine.”

* * *

“It’s yours?” Jasmine asked, aghast.

Shit, he thought. That slipped out.

Luca quickly shook his head. “It’s mine, just for the season.”

“So, who does it belong to?”

Luca should have been planning a story during the drive, but he’d been bombarded by too many memories. Summers here by the river. Rebuilding and riding his motorcycles all over the countryside. That one summer, nearly fifteen years ago, when he and his mother had been returning from town, his mother letting him drive her Aston Martin DB9. The sudden thunderstorm. The dark road. The pools of water.

Driving too fast.

The crash.

“It belongs to an aunt. She’s in Switzerland at the moment.”

Jasmine studied him as if she wasn’t quite satisfied with the story, but she didn’t press him as her attention was captivated by the grandeur of the house. The Gauthiers—the elderly couple who lived in the caretaker’s cottage—had done a superb job of keeping up the place. Even the ivy wasn’t overgrown, considering no one had stayed here for twelve years.

“And she’s okay with you staying here now?” she asked over her shoulder as she started to make her way up the gravel path.

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