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He blinked. “I’m not on shit.” His brows furrowed, and it finally dawned on him this was a serious conversation. “What’s going on? You don’t look too happy. Did something happen?” And, just as I’d thought, he reached over, set a hand on my knee.
My dress was long enough to cover most of where he touched, but that stupid slit… that stupid slit made me feel his heat unburdened, unhindered. His palm was softer than I thought it would be, and even though I was pissed at the whole engagement thing, I didn’t pull away.
Talk about mixed signals.
It took everything in me to take a gloved hand to his and push it off my knee. Before he could question me on that action, I asked, “Have you heard what my father and yours are discussing? And I should warn you: don’t lie to me, Luca. There is nothing worse than a liar in my book.” I’d take a murderer over a liar. His father was one, the biggest fucking liar of them all.
Would Luca follow in his footsteps? It was more than normal for men like them to step out and be unfaithful to their wives; yet another reason why I didn’t want to become one.
“You mean about finding the person who shot you?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean about me becoming your wife.”
Luca’s mouth dropped. It was a good thing there were no flies buzzing around, otherwise they definitely would’ve made it inside. “What—I didn’t… you’re joking.” He watched me, noticing how mad I was. “You’re not joking. This is real. Our fathers are really talking about that?” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “My father asked me what I thought about you, but I didn’t think that’s why—”
“So it wasn’t your idea?”
“No, of course not! I don’t—I haven’t even thought about getting married.” Luca leaned forward, setting an elbow on the table before us. He scratched the side of his clean-shaven jaw. “I thought they needed heirs to be in the running for the Hand? Why would they be talking about us getting married? You wouldn’t be your father’s heir then, right?”
Well, at least he was getting it. At least Luca understood where I was coming from, thinking this was as strange as I did. I supposed I didn’t give him enough credit. I’d just assumed he’d be all for it, that maybe it’d been his idea to begin with.
It looked like it wasn’t.
“I don’t know how it all works,” I admitted. “When my father told me, I kind of assumed it was your idea.”
“My idea? Why would you think it’s my idea?”
“Well, you visited me a lot while I was in the hospital. You brought me flowers when I got out. I just… I assumed it was you,” I paused, studying him. “But I can see now it wasn’t.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Luca leaned back, his hands in his lap. He turned his body toward me on the booth, blocking out most of the club. “Don’t get me wrong, though. You are amazing, Giselle. You are. Any man would be lucky to have you as a wife. I know I would.”
I wasn’t sure what he was trying to say here. “I’m not upset. I was more upset with the thought that you were scheming with our fathers behind my back.” I turned my head away from him, not wanting to gaze into those chocolatey eyes while saying this next part. “I can’t say that I even want to get married. Having a husband, becoming a wife, having kids… I don’t want that.” And, shocker, that’s what girls like me had to look forward to when we got older.
Luca was quiet for a few moments, and when he did speak, he didn’t sound insulted or anything. In fact, he sounded gentle, like he understood where I was coming from. “You should get everything you want, Giselle. I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
Meeting his stare, I whispered, “Even if it meant going against your father?”
He seemed to think on it for a while, but then he gave me a nod. “Even if it meant that. I know how things usually work. Most of the time, everyone just does whatever it is they’re told, because family, but I would never want to put you in that position.” He leaned closer to me, his voice dropping to an octave I could barely hear, “I only want you if you want me.”
He didn’t mention marriage. Just me, and that made something inside me flare up. The words that came out of me were hushed, and they took so much restraint, “There are things you don’t know about me, Luca. Things that if you knew, would make you not want me at all.” He wouldn’t be able to look at me in the same way; I knew it without a doubt, and that thought gave me more of an ache in my body than the bullet wound.
“I can’t see anything changing the way I feel about you. And, for what it’s worth, I think I would be a lucky man if I was your husband. Any man would be lucky to have you.” His body inched closer to mine on the booth, and before I knew it, his thigh pressed against mine.
And the weird thing? The weird thing was I didn’t feel like scooting away. My skin didn’t get all itchy and uncomfortable with his nearness and his touch.
“Luca,” I whispered his name, unable to say anything else.
“Giselle.” He matched me in tone, causing a chill to sweep down my spine.
If we stayed like this, something might happen, something I couldn’t say I was ready for. Or maybe I was, and I was just nervous, too anxious to simply sit there and let it happen. Kissing Luca… let’s just say that wasn’t how I imagined this talk to end. In fact, this wasn’t how I thought it would go at all.
But I wasn’t complaining.
Because I was too in my own head about it, I ended up turning my head away before he could lean in more. I whispered, “I have to go to the restroom. Excuse me.” And then, before I could say anything else, before I could meet his stare—which surely was disappointed now that I was running away—I worked on scooting away from him and getting out of the booth.
The scooting made my stomach ache, or maybe that was the conflicted feelings inside of me when it came to Luca, how I both wanted to kiss him and wanted nothing more than to never see a Moretti again. I hid the pain, rushing to the stairwell. Down I went. I recalled seeing a restroom in the back of the club, and I went straight there, making a beeline to it, ignoring everyone and everything else.
God, I hoped Zander wasn’t going to try to follow me into the restroom. I needed—well, at this point, I wasn’t sure what I needed, but I knew at the very least I needed space. I needed to think. I needed Luca to stop being so nice. It was all very confusing to me, because I’d expected him to be just like his father, a carbon-copy of him. Alas, he wasn’t. He was his own man, and I was starting to develop feelings for him, as ridiculous as it sounded.
