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I had done nothing in this life to deserve any of this. Not the art. The thoughtfulness. This man. Especially not today, when I’d screwed up in such a big way.
He had to know this was too much. I wasn’t meant to have something like this. I couldn’t begin to fathom how to accept it.
“Luca,” I cried against his demanding lips. I had to tell him since he clearly didn’t know. “I don’t deserve this.”
His fingers wound in the back of my hair, roughly fisting it. A rumble vibrated his chest. “You don’t get to decide that, do you? It’s me who decides. For months, you’ve been the only thing that’s inspired me. My pretty fucking girl. You’re all I want to paint and sculpt, and I’ll do that until I’m satisfied.”
He tapped my lips when I opened them to deny him. “No more arguing. It’s time for you to tell me how much you like all this.”
I clutched at his shirt, reeling myself into his warmth. “I fucking love it, Luca. I’ve never seen myself the way you do.”
“You will, one day. I’m not anywhere done with you.” His hand skimmed down my side to cup my breast. “Next, I’m going to sculpt these, which means I need you modeling for me naked. It could take hours, probably days. You’ll have to lie there and let me look at you.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back my grin. Leave it to Luca to lighten my mood. He had that way about him, and I loved him for it.
I loved him for it.
I really did love this man. And looking around this studio made me think he might have loved me too.
We weren’t supposed to fall in love. I couldn’t even begin to consider what this would mean for our agreement. But Luca’s mouth slammed into mine, bringing me back to the present and away from the what-ifs.
This man saw me. He understood me like no one ever had. When things died down and Clara was taken care of, we would talk.
If Luca loved me too, then we could figure out what that meant together.
But right now, I needed to show him how vital he was to me and how special he’d made me feel in the best way I knew how.
With my body. My whispered sighs. My arms around him. My mouth on his lips. This was a language in which both of us could say all we wanted without fear and listen without argument.
We spoke that way for hours. Until everything had been said.
Then Luca curled around me in his bed, between cool sheets, and kissed me good night.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Luca
Oncemyprivateinvestigatorpulled the first thread, Miller’s secret life began to unravel.
It was worse than I could have imagined.
He wasn’t cheating, but I almost wished he was.
Miller Fairfield was a fucked-up man.
I couldn’t even wrap my head around this stranger who’d been my brother-in-law for years. Had I ever known him?
Within three days, it was all laid out in front of me, and I was staggered by the extent of his depravity. This went beyond what the detective in Tennessee had suspected, and as of today, everything had been turned over to the FBI.
All I wanted to do was go home, sink inside my wife, and forget everything I’d learned. But I was no good. Too angry. Too bitter and confused to go home to Saoirse. She knew what was going on, though, and had promised to be waiting for me whenever I came home.
My fucking wife.
Elliot and Weston dropped everything to meet me for a drink. They both had companies to run, but I didn’t hesitate to ask them to leave early. Neither asked why. They showed up at the bar I’d named at four thirty sharp. Weston was doing better about a work-life balance, but Elliot rarely left work before eight p.m.
Yet he showed like he always did when push came to shove.
I was already one drink in. It had been necessary to settle my blood before I spilled all the ugliness everywhere.
