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“I think he does. He’s been…charming.” The last word comes out on a sort of sigh that makes me take notice.
Arching a brow, I ask, “So you don’t think he’s a scary criminal anymore?”
Alma shrugs. “Can he be both nice and bad?”
I don’t believe so, but for her sake, I say, “Of course he can.”
The doorbell rings, and Alma suddenly goes into a panic.
“Oh my God, he’s here. I’m not ready yet.” She flies to the closet and begins to pick through her clothes.
It rings again, and I realize that either Daddy doesn’t hear it, or he’s pretending not to.
Sighing, I say, “I’ll answer the door. Just hurry up.”
“Thank you. Ten minutes, tops.”
Grudgingly, I head downstairs. Through the glass of the front door, I see his silhouette. It practically fills the entire thing, and it aggravates me that he has to be so large.
Rolling my eyes, I open the door to find Luca facing his uncle. He turns to me with a smile that vanishes the moment he takes me in, his gaze moving over my entire body before pausing on my lips.
An annoyed frown mars his brow, and almost angrily, he says, “I expected to see Alma.”
“Nice to see you too.” I move aside and wave an arm toward the living room. “Won’t you come in? She’ll be down in a few minutes.”
He pushes past me, but I slam the door shut before his uncle can take a step inside. Luca glances over his shoulder but says nothing. Instead, he moves beyond the living room, where I wanted him to go, and enters the office.
“You don’t need to accompany me. I know my way around your house,” he says smugly.
I follow close behind him as he walks straight to the liquor cabinet and helps himself to the only expensive bottle of tequila we have.
“That’s meant for special occasions,” I snarl.
He gives me a toothy grin that seems more threatening than friendly, then swallows down the shot and pours himself another. Before he can toss that one back, I snatch it from his hand and drink it myself.
Now it’s me who grins.
“I can tell you don’t like me,” he says. “But for the sake of your family, I suggest you try to be civil.”
I bristle. “Civil?”
“Civil,” he repeats, taking a step toward me.
I tense as I’m forced to look up when he towers over me. His body takes up too much of my space, but I don’t retreat.
His eyes bore into mine in that way they always do, stripping me of something. I can’t explain it, but it makes me feel vulnerable. So I erect walls all around myself and reinforce them with a glare meant to singe the skin off his bones.
The narrowing of his gaze is the only thing that gives any hint that he’s affected by it. But he doesn’t remain like that long. As usual, he turns from me as if my face offends him.
Refilling his glass, completely uncaring about the state of our finances or that we’ll probably never be able to replace that bottle, he pours himself another, then takes a second glass and fills it.
He hands that one to me. “Drink this.”
It’s an order, one I want to defy, but I need something to cool me down. Reluctantly, I take it.
Luca takes a seat behind my father’s desk, and it irks me that he’s taken command of a space that doesn’t belong to him. I hate even more that, even though he’s sitting now, he still seems to overwhelm the room with his presence. Every atom in the atmosphere hums with awareness of him, the air itself so thick with the scent of leather and man that I’m afraid I’ll breathe him in and he’ll invade me too.
Feeling weary, I plop down in the seat across from him and sip. The amber liquid burns all the way to my stomach, and I fight the urge to cough.
