Page 70 of Hard Lessons

“You know I wish you hadn’t found that.”

She shook her head. “It’s the past.”

He bit on his bottom lip. The image she’d conjured, of family life in Scotland, wasn’t abhorrent to him. In fact it seemed like something from a movie. A pretty boring movie but nevertheless, an ideal.

Could it ever be his ideal?

No. He was too tangled in Cosa Nostra business. He was needed in London. He was a Morretti. Veg patches, chickens, and children playing in the waves as the sun set on another perfect Highland day wasn’t in his future.

Was it?

* * *

Serena studied Luca. He had that glaze to his eyes he got when thinking about something new. She’d seen it before when he’d been suggesting thrillingly dirty adventures for the bedroom. She’d also seen it when he’d been talking to the guys back in Rome about business—about how to get what they wanted.

Is he imagining us with children, a warm, safe home, here... or somewhere like Hebridon?

He dragged in a breath and straightened. Resumed eating his breakfast. Whatever had lingered in his mind’s eye had been and gone. Drifted like a lone cloud over his thoughts then vanished.

“Don’t forget,” he said, his voice gruff again. “You have another hundred spanks to take today.”

She squirmed on the chair. Her ass still hurt from the day before. “Today?”

“Yes, I don’t know how long we have here. We need to get them done.”

“So we might go back to London soon?” Her heart sank. She’d said her goodbyes to London. Going back wasn’t appealing.

“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “Hopefully not. You’re right, itisnice here, once you look past the dust, the weird old furniture and shit.”

Serena didn’t take a second piece of toast. Her appetite had diminished at the thought of more spanks.

“And that bench outside,” he said. “Looks sturdy enough. After breakfast you’re going over it.”

“What, just like that?” His brisk manner irked her. “Out in the open?”

“Si.” He swiped his palms together, ridding a few crumbs. “No one around is there.”

She clenched her jaw. A steely determination set a course of stubbornness through her. There would be no spanking today. She’d figure a way out of it.

“What?” he asked, spotting her scowl.

“I don’t want a spanking.”

“But you owe one. A hundred strikes of my palm.”

“My ass hurts.”

“Good.” He sat back and crossed his arms, his biceps bulging where his muscles pressed on his knuckles. “It means you won’t spend money that isn’t yours again.”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

He was quiet then. “True.”

“It was lost money. I found it.”

“You hid it.”

“Yes. And what would have happened if I hadn’t?”

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