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I narrowed my eyes at him. “Something’s up.”
“Something is always up,” Lucas said slowly. “The sun, the stars, maybe even the moon.”
“Is this like my last supper or something?” Not that I really wanted to know that it was. I would have preferred for him to strangle me in my sleep or shoot me when I least expected it.
To my complete and total surprise, he smiled, and two dimples appeared on his cheeks. Dear God, he was gorgeous when he smiled! Still, the smile never reached his eyes. A shadow clung to the depth of his beautiful blue gaze.
“If you want it to be your last supper,” he said. “I can have that arranged. But you will be quite hungry for the next few days.”
I stepped back, only because he was so close, and grasped the edges of the coat. “Who are you, and what did you do with Don Valentino?”
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Lucas answered. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m here to dine with you, Leda.”
My conscience told me to run as far away as I could. But where? I was on a balcony. This couldn’t be right. I just got used to his gruff demeanor, but now he was being something completely opposite, and I didn’t know how to handle that very well.
Yet I was insanely curious where this night was going to end up.
I crossed the threshold and took one of the chairs at the table. Lucas took the other, stretching out his legs before him as he sat.
He held his piercing gaze on me, and goosebumps ran down my body—even underneath the thick coat.
“So,” he said after a few moments, reaching for his glass. “Did you enjoy my gifts?”
I took the wineglass, inhaling the heady scent as I swirled the liquid in the glass. “You conveniently left off the clothing I requested.”
As I lifted the glass to my lips, Lucas smirked. “You are dressed howIwant you to be, Leda.”
The sensual timbre of his voice sent shivers down my spine, and I busied myself by taking a sip of the wine.
“Eat,” he continued, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. “I insist.”
I pulled the dome off the plate and inhaled the tangy scent of Bolognese. “God, you must have an Italian master in the kitchen.” I picked up a fork.
“I have a weakness for pasta dishes,” he responded as I shoved a small forkful of pasta in my mouth.
It tasted like heaven, and I moaned as the flavors exploded on my tongue. Lucas sat up straighter in his chair, and that predatory gaze turned heated. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my pasta, feeling the same wanton need deep in my stomach.
“This is really good,” I said quickly, wanting to keep my mind focused on anything other than the fact that Lucas Valentino looked like he wanted to devour me whole.
“I want to know about you,” he finally said.
I placed the fork down. So that was what he wanted: more information.
“I have a brother,” I started hesitantly. “But you knew that already. And he has the cutest little boy.”
“You must miss them.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement, and my heart squeezed in my chest. I did miss them terribly. After a lifetime of being under my father’s thumb, Nico finally escaped. I thought that I would also find happiness like Nico did with his wife Rory.
Instead I was sitting on a balcony with a man who had paid to have me here.
Yet, it didn’t feel as bad as I imagined.
“I do,” I finally said. “I miss them more than anything in the world.”
I’m sure that his son Anthony had already hit some crazy milestones. Rory and Nico both would have been over the moon. We had never had any other babies in our family until Rory came. I had been excited to hear about Anthony’s first word, his first tooth, finding something other than the depravity that was my father’s influence.
Something that could be cherished.
