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A chuckle escapes as I recall the look on Caleb and Domenico’s faces when I was on the phone with them while Jillian was upstairs. “I may or may not have bribed your kids to let me have a quick dinner with you before I leave.”
The corner of her mouth lifts as she comes closer. “What did—” Jillian lets out a gasp as she sees I’ve finished the spaghetti Bolognese and plated it along with the salad and bread. “I can’t believe you managed to do all of this while I was putting Truitt to bed.”
“We did most of the prep work before we got distracted earlier.” I drag my tongue over my lower lip as I remember our kiss.
“What did you offer them in exchange for a few more minutes?” she whispers in a very flirty voice.
“I told Mimmo and Tarzan they could help me build the movie screen.” I reach for the opened bottle of white wine and pour a small serving into Jill’s wine glass. “And told Myla she could pick the movie.” Returning the bottle to the counter, I decide I’ll stick with water since I’m driving to Luigi’s to check on everyone and return his car before heading home.
“You think of everything, Luca… wait.”
I straighten at her pensive expression. All of our playfulness gone.
“You said, ‘you can call me Luca.’ But your name in the computer at work was Luke. Which is your real name?”
“My name is Luca Bianchi.” She doesn’t need to know I’m biologically a Messina. It would be far too easy to google. And as Matteo, Antonia, Giovanni, and I have dropped our connection to the Messina name, it makes no difference anyway. “Luke Barrett is the American name I chose to start a new life here. Away from my enemies.”
“Oh.”
I wait for Jillian to say this is all too much. That she needs time to process everything I’ve shared with her tonight. To make excuses for why it’s probably best that her children not get attached to me or Mimmo.
And she’d be right.
But instead, she places her hand over mine. “What do you want me to call you?”
“In public, Luke Barrett. Everywhere else, Luca is fine.”
Yet even though I know I shouldn’t allow her into my world, I want to say, Yours.
You can call me yours.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Luca
“George!”
“Yeah, boss?”
“What is all of that?” I point to the stacks of oddly shaped cardboard boxes on pallets in the corner of the warehouse.
“Shit, if I know. I thought it was something you ordered. I can’t keep up with all the crap coming in and out of here.”
Jeez, this guy.“But we have a log of what we’re receiving hanging right over the desk right there.” I point to the clipboard that’s hanging over the shipping counter. “Weshouldknow what crap is coming in and out of here.” I’m tense, and I know it.
“Okay, okay. I’ll grab the clipboard. Who put the stick up your ass? Did you run out of candy?”
I shove my hands through my hair, frustrated. This used to be a streamlined organization, but now it’s become a pain in my ass. It’s times like this I could really use a cigarette. But if I pull out a Dum Dum lollipop now, I’m libel to break a tooth chomping down on it.
“We just need to be cautious of what’s coming in and out of here, George. I don’t want anyone to sign for something I didn’t order, then I’m stuck paying the bill.”
Walking over to the tall stack, I try to read the print on the narrow packaging for clues.
“There’s nothing about two pallets worth of shit on this clipboard, Luke.”
“Miguel!”
Miguel saunters over with a familiar white stick poking out of the right-hand corner of his mouth.
