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“Luca Moretti.” He held out his hand and gave me a sexy sideways grin.
And, oh God his voice. Deep and throaty. I just stared at him wanting to hear more of it, then I realized everyone was waiting on me to say something. I mentally slapped myself to regain focus and shook his hand.
“Becka North,” was all I could muster as a response. When I took his hand I felt a rush through my entire body. It started in my fingers where he held them firmly, crawled up my arm, through my chest and settled in my belly. Way, way down in my belly. My breath caught in my chest and my heart thumped against my ribs. What the hell was that?
“Yes, I know,” he said, flashing a full smile. I thought my knees were going to give out under me. I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any better looking. Wrong. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” he continued, but didn’t drop my hand.
“Really? What have you heard?” Suddenly I found my voice, curiosity spurring me in the side.
“That you are smart. Talented. Tough. Loyal. Also, stubborn, never shies from a fight and are a “man of your word” so to speak.”
“Sounds about right.” I nodded my approval with a smile. Then we were just staring at each other. No, I was staring at him and he… he was running those beautiful brown eyes down the entire length of my body.
Unlike the bouncer from outside, it didn’t feel dirty. He took in every inch of me, unabashed at how obvious he was being and all I could do was stand there and welcome it. Does he like what he sees? When his eyes reached mine again they were dark, and full of something so strong and primal my mouth instantly went as dry as the desert. The tingling that had started down low grew as hot as molten lava. I had never had a man look at me with such lust before. So completely entranced by what he saw in me. His strong hand flexed around mine.
“Ok, Luca. Stop ogling Becka.” Arianna broke the silence and I pulled my hand back to my side, but not before he gave my hand a little squeeze before letting it go.
Luca took a step back but kept his focus on me, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.
“Arianna says you are going to play at the wedding?” Matteo asked, averting my attention.
“Play? Play what?” Luca inquired.
“Becka is an amazing violin player,” Arianna answered before I even had a chance. “She has played at lounges and bars. And a few private events.”
Luca folded his arms over his chest and settled into the conversation. “Really?” The fact that he was genuinely interested had my heart swelling.
“Yes. My grandmother taught me. We play together all the time.” Then my heart shuttered. "Well, at least, we used to anyway.” Suddenly my throat closed up and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my face from crumbling. Ducking my head I tried to regain composure but the lump in my throat wouldn’t dissipate.
Arianna cleared her throat. “Come sit with me. I had some drinks brought up just before you got here.”
I tentatively flashed the men a smile with a, “it was nice to meet you both,” then turned away just as quickly.
She ushered me over to one of the couches along the glass. I didn’t dare look back, but I could feel Luca’s eyes on me. Studying me. I didn’t want him to see me choked up. I didn’t like to show when things got to me. Being vulnerable only ever made me a target. So I hid it. As well as I could anyway.
We sat down and Arianna asked me the same question she did every time we talked. “How is your grandmother?”
My shoulders slipped a little more. “She doesn’t recognize me anymore. Or anyone else for that matter. Her moments of clarity are nonexistent, and her health is starting to go down.” I sipped at the yellow drink that Arianna had set in my hand.
“I’m so sorry, Becca.”
It had been almost a year since I had to put my grandmother in a home. It was the worst day of my life. I wanted to be the one to take care of her but could no longer give her the twenty-four hour care she needed. I had already started doing home therapy so I could make my own hours; to be better able to take care of her. But even with the extra help coming in from home care, it just wasn’t enough. Bills had been pilling up and I barely got any sleep.
So, I made the decision— with my grandmother’s insistence— that she go into a home. Before her memory had really begun to take a turn for the worst, she had seen the effect it was having on me. No life or time to myself; existing, not living.
No matter how much she’d been ok with it, it didn’t stop the guilt. The gut wrenching, sickening guilt I felt every time I thought back to the day I dropped her off. Or every day after. The woman raised me along with my grandfather. It felt like I was somehow betraying her. They were amazing guardians. Everything good about myself I owed them, especially my grandmother.
With a small shake of my head I snapped myself back to the present and out of the muck of self-pity I was rolling in. This moment was not about me, or my problems. This was about Arianna and her wedding.
So I flashed her a smile and took her hand. “Let’s not talk about that right now. This time is about your wedding. So, is everything good to go?”
“Ah, almost. I have my last dress fitting in a couple of days, as you know. We are going to fit your dress as well, and make sure the measurements you sent me came out right.”
“Can’t wait!”
“And I have to check on the cake. And the caterer for the party at my parents’ house, because you already know we are not doing a rehearsal dinner.” She ran her fingers into her hair, looking panicked. “I should probably double the alcohol for the wedding…”
I squeezed her hand. “Relax. Everything is going to be fine.”
