“Don’t call me that,” I snarled at him, my stomach seizing at the thought of him using the endearment I used for Torre. The word sounded indecent coming from his mouth.
“Frisco?”
And then Torre walked out of the dressing room, as sleek and polished as any executive I’d ever seen. His face was pale, but his eyes burned, and my heart sank. He must’ve heard everything.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed hold of his hand to pull him to the register so I could complete the sale, but he stood firm.
“That’s Luca, right?”
Unfamiliar nerves buzzed through me, and my stomach tumbled like that night when I found out about Luca and my mother. “Yes.” I continued to hang on to him to keep myself upright.
Smooth as ever, Luca offered his hand. “I’m Luca, an old friend of Frisco’s.”
“Cut the bullshit. I know who you are.” Torre glowered, and my heart did a funny flip at his strength and dominant tone of voice.
Torre is mine. And I fucking love him.
Luca’s dark eyes widened. “Your tiger has claws.”
We were drawing the stares of both customers and salesclerks, and to keep their noses out of my business, I handed one of the sales associates my credit card. “Just ring everything up, please.”
Luca’s smile grew crafty. “So it’s like that.”
“Like what?” Torre asked pointedly. “You have something you feel the need to say to us?”
“When a man has to pay for his lover, it makes the lover a little…less.” He shrugged, but I could hear the tinge of cruelty in his words and see the ugly curl of his mouth. I was ready to step forward and flay him with every curse I had in my repertoire, both in English and Italian.
But I didn’t need to.
“Is that so?” Torre splayed his legs wide. “You know what makes someone less than a man? Taking advantage of a child and preying on his innocence. I have no fear I’ll ever be less than someone like that. Besides, I’m so much more than you can ever imagine.”
But Luca didn’t back down that easily. “I know Frisco. You think I forgot about you?” His gaze flicked to mine before returning to rest on Torre’s flushed, determined face. “You’ll be gone, and he won’t remember your name. But you never forget your first.”
“You think so?” Torre slid his hand around the nape of my neck and met my lips with his in a kiss of such sweet sensuality, I needed to catch my breath when he let go. “You might’ve been his first, but I’m the here and now. The one and only. Frisco’s last.” Torre’s chocolate eyes met mine, and he squeezed my hand. “Are we ready?”
“And willing.” I brushed my lips over his. “Let’s go.”
With Luca glowering, we picked up our bags and my credit card on the way out, to the sight of shocked, wide-eyed salespeople.
“I hope you enjoyed the show. Fortunately, it was a one-night performance.”
We left the store, walked over to 59th Street, and caught a cab. Our hands still laced together, neither of us spoke until we got to my apartment. I went to the bar, made myself a Negroni, and held up a bottle.
“Red?”
“Hell, yeah. But bring the bottle.”
I poured the pinot noir into a stemless wineglass, kicked off my shoes, and sat next to him on the couch. “Here.”
His fingers brushed mine to take it, but I didn’t let go of the glass. “Did you mean it?”
He tucked a leg under him. “Mean what? I said a lot of things.”
I thought he knew what I was asking because he couldn’t face me. But I needed to know. “That you are my last. My one and only.”
I let him have the glass then, and he cradled it between the palms of his hands before taking a sip.
“Hearing you talk to Luca while I was in the dressing room…I had a moment of doubt. Maybe more than one.”
