Page 47 of Luca
“Alice?” An amused, deep voice came from my left side. A familiar voice. Then a hand wrapped around my forearm. “Don’t even think about getting down to clean that up.”
It couldn’t be. My mind had finally gone. I was imagining things. My brain had found a twisted corner where a man I disliked waited for me.
Slowly, I shifted my head to find none other than Luca King standing next to me. I blinked, then blinked again.
I groaned. “Of all the people in the world… Why you?”
His mouth twisted into that well-known smirk. The one I could live without seeing again for the rest of my days.
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks, but I refused to show it.
“Fancy seeing you here, Margaret Callahan,” he drawled, his eyes shining with amusement. He didn’t seem surprised to see me at all. His gaze met mine, sparked with something warm and dangerously tempting.
My loneliness is working against me, I told myself.
“So not fancy seeing you here, Luca King,” I answered, exhausted, and my shift had barely started. My back was killing me and a feeling deep inside my chest pulled heavy against my heart.
Paolo was already approaching us, speaking in rushed Italian. Luca didn’t seem fazed and replied in a hard tone, which caused another string of rushed Italian words from Paolo. My eyes darted between my boss and Luca. It didn’t take a translator to know that Luca would get his way.
It was in the sure way he carried himself, but even more so in the way he watched Paolo. Like the latter worked for him. Luca said something in a low, final tone and surprise flickered in Paolo’s gaze that flickered my way.
“Va bene,” Paolo caved just as I suspected.
A terse nod and Luca dismissed him, turning his back to him.
“Come sit down with me, Margaret,” he murmured softly. He took my hand and gently urged me forward. “Please.”
Hesitancy slithered down my spine. Luca was never gentle. Something was up. But I let him lead me to the table, and the moment I lowered down onto the seat, a sigh left me.
Luca took the seat beside me, his eyes boring into me.
“What, Luca?” I grumbled. God, my shift just started and my feet were killing me.
“You shouldn’t be doing physical labor in your condition,” he reprimanded.
I rolled my shoulders, then let out an annoyed breath. “You realize women have been doing physical labor waiting on their husbands for centuries, right? This is no different.”
He didn’t like my response, but he didn’t contradict me. Maybe he was smart after all.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded to know.
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his seat.
“Visiting my grandfather.”
“You visit him often?”
“Not often enough.”
Pascale DiMauro appeared at our table, wearing his usual. A wide-brimmed hat and the old fashioned suit with suspenders. Despite his frail state, he stood tall and proud, his gaze sharp.
“Margaret, I see you met my nipote,” he greeted me with a smug smirk that reminded me so much of the man sitting next to me.Grandson. Luca King was Pascale DiMauro’s grandson and by the single look Luca gave his father, I could tell he cared a lot about him.
Penelope DiMauro was Benito King’s mistress and daughter of the head of the Sicilian mafia, Pascale DiMauro. The rumor on the street was that Benito had eyes on her and Italy when he seduced her. So maybe these men experienced tragedy caused by Benito King just like me.
“I did. Luca and I go way back,” I grumbled softly. “Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me to see him here. It seems he’s always everywhere. My constant shadow.” I shook my head in light annoyance. “If only you were there when I was knocked up, I might not be in this predicament.”
Something flickered in Luca’s gaze. Dark. Possessive. Unsettling.
