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I stroll into the kitchen, pull out a chair, and sit across from him. “Why are you here?”
Luca scratches his clean-shaven cheek. “I’m your—”
I cut him off, “Don’t you dare say it.”
“Your bodyguard.” He now seems amused as he shoves a bite of cake into his mouth.
“Call yourself that again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”
“Fine. I’ll call myself your babysitter then.”
“Do that, and I’ll cut off your entire head.”
He leans back and blows out a breath. “Why do I always get stuck with the crazy ones?”
“Hey, you chose to work for crazy. Who’d you think they’d marry?”
“I wasborn intocrazy,” he corrects. “Cristian is my uncle, so I had no other career options.”
I frown, hating that for him. “I was also born into crazy.”
This is the first conversation I’ve shared with Luca—other than the simple hellos when we randomly crossed paths. His mother, Helena, who’s also Cristian’s sister, sweetly told me I looked beautiful four times at my engagement party.
I’ve also heard Luca’s name a good fifty times since the engagement party. He seems to be Isabella’s new favorite topic of discussion. Not that I blame her. He has the Marchetti charm—dark hair, sun-kissed skin tone, and a bloodline bleeding with power and authority.
“Sooo … where’s my husband?” I reach forward, snatch a chunk of his cake from his plate, and drop it into my mouth.
“No idea.”
I furrow my brow. “Where’d he go, Luca?”
“He just said he’d be back.” He shrugs. “That’s it.”
“Can you drive me to my parents’? I need to get my car to run a few errands.”
He shakes his head. “I was instructed to keep you here.”
Of course, he was.
I’m surprised Benny didn’t have bars installed on the windows while I was sleeping.
As if on instinct, I reach into my pocket for my phone but realize I didn’t grab it before we left the mansion last night.
I stand when my stomach growls, walk to the fridge, and open it. All that’s inside are three lonely bottles of water, one of them half full. No wonder Luca’s breakfast of choice was leftover wedding cake. I grab a water and shut the fridge.
“There’s no food here,” I tell Luca, as if it were a problem he’d care about.
“The home was pretty much vacant until a few days ago,” Luca replies. “Make a list, and I’ll ask my mom to bring groceries over.”
“We can go to the grocery store.”
“Let me text Benny and see if that’s okay.”
I throw my head back. “And now, I have to ask permission to shop.”
Luca pauses mid-texting on his phone. “Neomi, you grew up in this life. You know it’s not always like this. Everyone is on high alert right now. What happened at your wedding was serious.”
My shoulders slump. “I know.”
