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“Do you even know what we ordered?”
“Not a clue. I just launder the money you throw my way. You’re in charge of everything else. I don’t know the quantities, the rates, or the payment terms.”
“What about Donato?” I throw in. “He should know most of that stuff. You just need to find a way to wring the info out of him without actually asking.”
“I’ll take him with me,”—Luca nods—“say I’m planning on passing the reins over to him since I’m busy with the Family shit, and that I want to see how he’ll manage.”
“That could work. What about trying the goods?” Damian asks. “Do you remember how to assemble and shoot your toys? Because Donato only knows how to handle his own gun. Barely.”
“Yes.”
“Good. That leaves us Orlando Lombardi as the last pressing issue for now. Everything else can be dealt with without a face-to-face meeting. At least for now.”
“What about him?”
“He’s throwing a party for his son, Massimo. He just turned eighteen, and the party is on Wednesday. You two are invited.” Damian points his fingers to me and then Luca. “And everyone will be there.”
“You’re not going?” Luca asks.
I place a hand on Luca’s arm. “He’s persona non grata in the Lombardi household. At most of the Family households, actually. He wasn’t at our wedding for the same reason.” I smile and look at Damian. “He was sleeping with Constansa, Orlando’s youngest daughter, while in a relationship with the older one, Amalia.”
“You were fifteen when that happened!” Damian widens his eyes at me. “How do you even know about that?”
“When Orlando caught him in Constansa’s room, he had to escape through the window,” I add. “Everyone talked about his naked ass running across the garden while Orlando chased him with a shotgun.”
“I had my boxer briefs on, for God's sake.” Damian rolls his eyes.
“Any other love affairs I should know about?” Luca asks.
“We should go over the real estate business one more time.” Damian answers, pointedly ignoring Luca’s question.
“Damian.”
“All right, damnit, I’ll make you a list.” Damian waves his hand dismissively and opens his laptop. “Let's go through thereal estate we sold this month and what we’d like to consider purchasing.”
I lean back on the sofa and watch Luca as he listens to Damian dumping heaps of information on him—details on money laundering schemes, commission rates, numbers, rental terms, explanations of agreements they have with the biggest clients he may end up meeting. They already covered people at the office while Luca was in the hospital, but Damian goes over their names and roles one more time. Luca doesn’t speak much, only asks a question here and there, and keeps listening, absorbing. I don’t know how I would deal with this if it were me in a similar situation. I’d probably lose it after two days. But not Luca.
The other day, Damian found a video from a reception held last year for the real estate businesses. Luca spent the whole morning watching a two-minute segment where the camera caught him, studying the way he moved and talked. He’s extraordinary. It’s been ten days since he came back from the hospital, and he hasn’t slipped once.
When Luca told me Lorenzo was coming by to update him last Friday, I was scared shitless. Trying to fool the second most important man in the Family is not the same as deceiving the household staff. Damian and I did our best to fill him in on everything they could potentially discuss, but our knowledge was limited. Still, Luca pulled it off, somehow.
We have three days until Massimo’s birthday party, not nearly enough time to go over everyone we might meet there. I’ll have to start combing social media and downloading images of people I haven’t shown him so far.
“If you two don’t need me, I’m going to find Rosa,” I say and rise off the sofa. “She wanted to buy new curtains for her room, and I promised I would take her.”
I head toward the door, but as I’m passing Luca, he stands up, grabs me around my midriff, and pulls me against him.
“I’m coming with you,” he says and slides his hand to my butt.
“We have work to do, Luca,” Damian barks from his spot behind the desk.
“It can wait.”
I look up to find Luca watching me. Based on the glint in his eyes, he’s interested in something other than picking out curtains. Smirking, I slide my hand under his shirt and brush the tip of my finger across his lower back. We had sex twice this morning—in the bed first, then in the shower—but it was rather quick since Luca was in a hurry. I can’t wait for tonight when we won’t be rushed. My absolute favorite part is when he spoons me after we’re both spent and sated, and slides his finger into me. It felt a little strange the first night, having his finger in my pussy while I slept, but I got used to it pretty quickly. Now, I don’t think I could fall asleep any other way now.
Before the crash, he barely touched me, especially when someone else was around. He only relented when I pushed him into pleasuring me. And he only kissed me once—when we slept together that first time. His behavior has taken a one-eighty after the crash. Sometimes, I find it hard to connect this Luca with the one from before.
“Didn’t we come for curtains?” I turn to Rosa, who’s browsing the bed throws.
