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Family lunch?
I didn’t have time to think or ask for any details. All hell broke loose in a massive yet crowded kitchen by the amount of bodies inside of it, and before I could say his name to acknowledge his presence, I saw the mere moment it all changed.
Diego, the chef who Talia had described as short, appeared through my left eye, balancing a large pot. Diego’s head poked over the side of the pot, missing Wex’s backside who scarfed down water from below.
“Katia,” Lucca demanded my attention in warning.
I wanted to keep my eyes on him, to have a moment to speak to him as the day had finally allowed it, but I couldn’t because his warning desperately begged for me with an arm raised out. However, Diego’s yelp caused my eyes to focus on him instead as he tripped over Wex, losing his footing and staggering with the pot.
I pushed back, a futile attempt, as the pot and its contents quickly knocked me down. It had all happened so fast. Only the lukewarm contents and the sharp pain that erupted through my right wrist registered.
Shocked, I looked up at Diego’s widened eyes that had filled with fearful apologies. And yet, I feared for him. Wex’s body spun, prepared, and shot at him.
I reacted.
In one swift move, I slipped through the floor as I lurched my body toward his. I did not stop until I trapped his collar and pulled him back as hard as I could.
I had no chance against Wex’s strength. He jerked my wrist over and over as I continued to hold on, causing deeper pain.
“Foo!”Stop,I ordered in Russian weakly.
Lucca’s command fell at the same time, but his tone held no hesitation as he roared, “Ostanovit.”
Wex stopped.
“Lyezhat,” Lucca’s strong Russian echoed.
Both Wex and Vino listened by placing their heads above their paws and their bodies hitting the floor in unison.
I breathed out in relief as my adrenaline waned.What had just happened?
Looking down at Wex’s heaving and yet controlled body, I finally let go of his heavy chain. An ache spread over my fingers, up my hand, and onto my wrist.
Breathe, Katia.
Lucca’s shoes were now in front of me, ruined by the splatters. In an instant, his body lowered into view. He picked my head up with his arched index finger as he searched my eyes, but all I could see was the tomato and basil mess I was bathing in.
“I swear if there were tears in your eyes…”
He didn’t have to explain further. The demon in his eyes said it all.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him while our eyes locked on one another. He wanted to believe me, but instead, his gaze scrutinized my face closer, and his fingers spread, cupping my jaw gently.
Too gentle, too unlike him, and too difficult to ignore. I removed my eyes and watched him instead. His freshly trimmed beard, his strong jawline and immaculate Italian tan skin. The hard lines caused by tension and anger as he held me.
“Mr. Moretti, I’m s—”
Lucca’s head snapped. The chef didn’t utter another word, and when his eyes met mine again, I hated the humiliating state of my appearance. Right in front of everyone so they can see and ponder it in their minds.
It was degrading.
I closed my eyes briefly at the thought of who I was meant to be to them and how I looked now.
“Katia.” Lucca’s soft tone only heightened the bubbling emotion that creeped into my eyes. The pity I heard.
Fuck, this was bad.
“Everyone, out,” he harshly ordered.
