AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jesus.
Lucca didn’t reply. He only took a slight left and continued walking away from the stairs. Trailing behind him, I reencountered the same path I had once taken. His study.
Leaving the door wide open, Lucca walked deeper into the darkened room. I halted near the doorway while his footfalls continued until they ceased and drapes opened, allowing natural light to filter through the sheer curtains of the tall windows at the end. Somehow, his frame had remained away from the sun's rays, but I saw the shadow of his hands reaching his front. He unbuttoned his blazer and draped it on a coat hanger as if he’d shed a layer of his disguise. Lucca’s eyes fell to his wrists, and mine followed his fingers as they effortlessly removed his cufflinks and softly placed them neatly on his desk.
The silence, the shadows, and his movements were too much. Too effortless and indifferent. All while I stood behind by an open door with the compressing feeling of confinement.
He then began creasing the ends of his sleeves, slowly rolling them and exposing his strong inked forearms. When he finished, he had revealed more skin, ink, and veins than I'd seen from him. I stood appalled, eyes fixed on him.
His tie was next as his thumb tugged, and the sound of silk slipping loose shrilled through the smothering room. With another layer shed, it left behind his vest, which quickly met the hanging suit jacket. I finally removed my gaze when his fingertips touched the first button of his dress shirt, unwilling to watch his neck free and exposed for my gaze.
I looked away and tried to make sense of the spines of the books on the bookcases. Their titles and letters were difficult to follow, but I made out a few. They were mostly different volumes on law, medicine and anatomy. Leather, broken spines, and no signs of dust lingering. My fingers touched their worn, yet unique spines, realizing they were in alphabetical order.
“You have a preference?”
I nearly said,“Notnon-fiction,”but I spotted the titleThe Laws of Architecture. I faced him.
Lucca was standing by a corner bar with two crystal-cut glasses resting before him.
He meant alcohol.
I’d said I was thirsty after all, but I had envisioned a glass of water. Drinking something stronger was a risk with my low alcohol tolerance and current state of disarray. But after thinking of the next stop I would take after his study, I replied, “I’ll have whatever you have.”
Lucca’s eyes hesitated, and after mine fell to his open shirt, I led mine back to the safety of the bookshelves.
I heard the sound of liquid pouring, the pause before it began again, and the moment the clink of a heavy glass canister sat back to its resting spot. His footfalls were next. The closer he got, the louder they became, and when I turned, I’d left the timid gaze on the bookshelf and looked up at him.
He held a glass of brown liquor. It seemed small in his grip.
I took it and looked up. “Thank you.”
Lucca gazed over my lips, up my eyes, and moved to the corner of my hairline. They remained there for a moment longer before he turned around without a word.
He was maddening, the way he gave no tells, no signs, nothing.
It was impossible to read him, to know how to act according to his slips for my gain. No matter who I faced, I had managed to be stout and understand their ways. It’s how I lived life and came out on top ofevery fucking encounter. But he never granted even a faint crack.
Make him trust you.
There had to be another way that didn't leave me vulnerable. There’salwaysanother way.
I just needed to find it before I could lose myself in the house of an unemotional mafioso.
The drink disappeared between my lips, burning with its choking taste as I turned to face his broad back, in one sip.
“I have work,” Lucca’s nonchalant tone announced when he stood behind his desk.
Dismissed.
I chuckled, and he looked up at me. Bringing the hand that held my cup, I wiped the bourbon left on my lips with the side of my thumb. Uncaring of how unladylike it may seem or how he would interpret such a gesture.
His gaze followed my steps as I walked through his study, and I picked up the first brown crystal container I touched and poured another drink. After all, he had work.
With my hair back and my head held high, I walked toward the bookshelf, picked upThe Law of Architecturelevel one book, and continued to the door.
“Your eyes have been dilated since New York.”
I stopped by the cracked door.
