Page 31 of Finding Love

Maybe that’s it. Subconsciously, I know I can’t trust Craig, and it’s hard to like anybody I can’t trust. That has nothing to do with my head injury.

We’re barely inside before Luca takes me by the waist and hauls me in, growling. “What is it about watching you with another man that makes me want to fuck you senseless?”

As always, a blaze erupts in my core. It’s like he knows the magic words to effortlessly turn me on. “Remind me to spend more time chatting with other men, then,” I murmur, grinning when his eyes narrow dangerously.

For once, the idea of forgetfulness sounds pretty good and the sort of forgetfulness only Luca can provide.

13

LUCA

“I’m taking Vinny and Bruce with us up to the house. We’ll be gone today and tomorrow. My idea was to return tomorrow night after dinner.” It’s unusual for me to drop spur-of-the-moment plans in my father’s lap, but it only occurred to me last night while Emilia slept in my arms that going back to the Hamptons might be what it takes to bring back the rest of what’s been lost. To call it a calculated risk would be putting it mildly, but it’s either taking the risk of existing in public or waiting for Emilia’s memory to return.

My father eyes me from behind his desk, his fingers tented under his chin. “So long as you know what you’re doing,” he reminds me in a quiet but heavy voice. “I would hate to see her lose ground when she remembers what happened the night she was taken.”

He isn’t advising me against anything I haven’t already considered. “I know it could backfire,” I admit. “But it might help bring everything else back. Besides, it would be nice to be in new surroundings for a while now that things are going well with us again.”

He holds up a hand, chuckling softly, and while I didn’t need to be reminded of why it was important to have this conversation one-on-one rather than involving anyone else in the family—meaning Dante—I’m comforted by his understanding. “Say no more. The things we do to keep our women happy.”

I would tell him it’s not like that, that she hasn’t demanded or asked anything from me beyond honesty, but the clock is ticking. It would be a good idea to get the hell out of here sooner rather than later. Especially since Papa is the only person I’ve discussed this with, and I would rather not be around for Dante’s inevitable temper tantrum when he learns I’ve ducked out for the day.

He wouldn’t understand. He’s never had a woman of his own for longer than a night or two. He wears it like a badge of honor, which baffles me. It was one thing when I didn’t have time to bother with women, though I didn’t brag about it. It wasn’t a point of pride. For someone like my brother, whose entire identity is wrapped up in what he can do for the family, it’s a welcome sacrifice. It makes him look dedicated. Obsessed, if you ask me, but then he knows better than to ask for my opinion on the way he chooses to live.

“How are you feeling?” I ask before leaving.

Emilia is waiting for me, both excited and a little apprehensive about our sudden trip, and I don’t want to run into Dante. Yet I can’t leave without making sure there’s nothing I need to know.

He shrugs, scowling a little at the question. “Fine. What’s with you hovering over me like this?” he grumbles. I can’t say I love the irritation I hear, though it does mean he’s feeling like himself again. I don’t have time to respond before he checks his watch and continues, “I have a phone call in a few minutes. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

I have officially been dismissed. “No, that’s it. I wanted to let you know where we’d be.” Before I’m out the door, I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Would you do me a favor?”

He lifts his brows in silent interest. After taking a quick look out into the hall to ensure no one will overhear, I murmur, “Keep this between us.”

His scowl is as familiar as the room itself. “Since when do we keep secrets like that?”

Since my reason for living was abducted and nearly murdered, and I still don’t know who to blame. “Please. That’s all I ask,” I reply before setting out. I’m not in the mood to get into it since I know he’ll scoff if I share my suspicions. He wouldn’t believe anything I had to say about Dante, anyway. I’m not even sure my brother is the one to blame for someone informing Alessandro of our plans. I want to believe he wouldn’t betray me that way, but there’s never any telling when someone’s self-image is based on their job. That’s all there is for him.

It's impossible for me not to reflect on some of the choices I’ve made in the past as I step outside. We’re due for an unusually warm spell coming up, and I feel it in the air. It’s about time—I’m getting sick of the cold. It’s the perfect weather for a trip to the Hamptons.

Emilia is waiting in the car, smiling brilliantly when I join her. “Everything okay?” she asks, and I love the chipper sound of her voice, like a kid who was promised a trip to the toy store.

“Everything’s perfect, including you.” She smirks and rolls her eyes, though I would expect nothing less. She is perfect and always has been, and she’s the last person who’d ever believe it.

Once we get on the road, she leans against me, fitting her body to mine. I drape an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. She’s back. She is mine again. As Vinny drives and she hums along to the oldies I asked him to play for her sake, I find myself envisioning the future. The possibilities that faded after she was hurt come roaring to new life.

However, my joy is tempered when we arrive at the house. I can’t take my eyes off her as she drinks it all in, gasping at the size of the place and its nearness to the beach while the guys bring our bags in, then retreat to the guest house. There’s no moment of recognition, no sudden flash of memory. I don’t know how to feel about it. Whether I should want it or not.

I told myself not to look at the stairs, so naturally, that’s where my gaze falls as soon as we walk through the front door. They’ve been scoured since that night when I came in to find a trickle of blood drying on the riser. I’ll never forget the way the red stood out against the stark white paint or the heart-stopping shock of realizing what I was looking at. The implications. That terrible, sick feeling that flooded my body and left me unable to process anything in the wake of terror.

This isn’t the time to stand around and dwell like a little bitch. My attention turns to Emilia, who is walking slowly through the living room, admiring everything the way she did when we were first here. There’s a faraway look on her face. She moves slowly, taking her time as she runs a hand over the mantle, then turns toward the windows overlooking the beach without saying a word.

What a bizarre time for me to remember what’s usually said about sleepwalkers. How you’re not supposed to wake them up. She’s not sleepwalking, but she is deep in thought just the same. I don’t want to interrupt, though everything in me wants to know what she’s thinking and feeling. Remembering, if anything. What is she going through? She knows I’m here for her, doesn’t she? I haven’t left any room for doubt.

“This is all so beautiful,” she eventually murmurs, and it’s a relief when she turns my way wearing a smile. I can breathe. Tension I didn’t know I was holding in my shoulders and neck eases. “Just beautiful. So peaceful.”

Yes, and what a shame that peace was ruined. “I’m glad you like it. It sits here empty so much of the time.”

“That’s a shame.” She looks up at the ceiling high above her head before turning in a slow circle, then shifts her focus toward the beach again. “Somebody should be admiring this all the time. Every day.”

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