Page 113 of Luca
A heavy sigh swished out of my lungs.
“We’re gonna have to run, Penelope,” I whispered, the rubber band around my heart threatening to snap. “Just like old times.”
Shit, why did the idea of living without Luca hurt so badly?
Penelope cooed her answer, and I imagined she was probably protesting. She loved being held by her Pàpa. Luca would wake up at night and feed her the milk I pumped, whispering words in Italian as he rocked her back to sleep.
I pressed my baby tighter to my chest while it felt like my heart was cracking open.
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. A tremor started in my hands. The shadows danced through the room. Past. Present. Future.
My lungs tightened and every breath hurt, like ice chips against my skin. Tears blurred my vision and one lone tear rolled down my cheek and onto my baby’s forehead.
With trembling fingers, I wiped it clean.
A strangled gasp escaped me, and I swallowed before I found my voice.
“I won’t let you forget your Pàpa,” I promised softly. “But we can’t stay, my baby.”
* * *
It was almostmidnight when we got home.
Luca had his hand around me, while he carried our baby in her carrier with the other. He was seemingly relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t escape me. The whole ride home, he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes sharp on the road and rearview mirror.
It was only once we entered his penthouse that the tension seeped out of him.
Penelope slept soundly in her carrier as we made our way to the baby's room. Luca gently took her out of her seat then changed her diaper and swapped her clothes with her sleepers as I watched them, memorizing this moment. I didn’t know how many more we’d have.
Penelope woke up, cooing and smiling at her Pàpa.
He settled into the rocking chair, our baby secured in his big, strong arms.
“Mamma should go to sleep, shouldn’t she, Poppy,” Luca whispered softly. The way he gazed at our daughter, with so much love, it was hard to believe he was a killer. A manipulator.
His gaze lifted at me and our gazes locked, burning. Time lagged in slow motion, touching my skin like a blazing sun, leaving me hot.
“Go rest, Wife,” he urged, flashing me his grin. “You’ve been quiet all evening. You must be tired.”
Without a word, I nodded and headed into our bedroom. I took a quick shower, then slipped into bed. I lay on my back in our bed, staring at the ceiling and I listened to the soft words Luca whispered to our daughter.
The door opened and Luca strode into our room. He unclasped his watch and put it on the dresser. His cufflinks came next. His suit jacket and vest followed. Then he worked on loosening his tie and slipped it off his neck. Then, he started on his shirt buttons. Belt. Shoes. Luca undressing was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Yet right now, none of it mattered. I wanted the truth about what he had done - with my father and with our daughter.
I watched as he disappeared into the bathroom and listened to the steady run of the shower. So many thoughts swarmed my mind, I had a hard time organizing them all into a thought that made sense.
The door to the bathroom opened and he stepped out wearing nothing but black boxers.
I finally broke the silence. “Is something wrong?”
Last chance to come clean.Please come clean.
“Business stuff,” he answered as he flung himself on the bed beside me. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling with empty eyes. Darkness swallowed the room, and it touched my soul.
My heartbeat faltered and disappointment washed over me. It wasn’t as if I expected him to tell me everything.
Still, I hoped.
A year ago, I detested him. Now, I loved him so much that it hurt. Nothing like going from one extreme to another. But staying here, with him, was not an option. Except, the thought of leaving him hurt so goddamn much.
