‘Hung out with Ali for a bit, and after she left I did some work.’ He nodded across the room where a huge canvas stood on an easel. Several smaller ones were stacked against the wall.
‘Can I look?’ Claire asked.
‘Knock yourself out.’
She picked up the last piece of her toast and went over to the canvas on the easel. The paint was still shiny and wet.
‘Wow!’ she breathed. She couldn’t claim to know much about art, but she felt the emotional punch of the piece, and she liked it immediately. She looked through the canvases by the wall, struck by the raw energy and power of the paintings. She recognised Luca’s sister in a couple of portraits, and there were a few nudes among the smaller canvases. They were very sensual, erotic paintings, and she wondered who the women were as her eyes lingered on them. What it would be like to have Luca painther?
When they had cleared away the breakfast things, they returned to the bedroom.
‘So, communication skills,’ Luca said, sitting on the bed. ‘You’re going to work on talking dirty – telling me what you want, in precise detail.’ He grinned. ‘But we’ll get on to that. First, we have to get you expressing how you feel – preferably not through the medium of tears.’ Hefrowned. ‘So – say what you’d have liked to say to me yesterday.’
She stood opposite him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When you were uncomfortable with what was happening. You should have told me to stop. You should have told me to fuck off and leave you alone.’
‘But I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Like you said, you couldn’t be expected to read my mind.’
‘Exactly – which is why I need you to tell me what you were thinking. So say it.’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘“Fuck off, Luca” – go on.’
‘No. It was just a misunderstanding. I know you wouldn’t have?—’
‘Come on,’ he interrupted impatiently. ‘We’re not moving on until you get past this.’
‘But you were just trying to move things forward, for my sake. It wasn’t your fault?—’
‘Claire,’ he said, in a warning tone. ‘This is the most important thing I’ll ever teach you. Just say it.’
She looked at him helplessly. ‘Don’t I call the shots? It’s my dime, remember?’
‘I don’t care. I’m going on strike.’
‘But why would I tell you to fuck off when I know you’re just trying to do what I want? That’s not fair.’
‘Claire. This is important. I don’t want you going along with something just because you’re not able to say how you feel. Not with me nor with anyone else.’
Still she said nothing.
‘Okay,’ he huffed. ‘I’ve changed my mind. We’ll do something else this afternoon instead.’
Claire breathed a sigh of relief.
‘We’ll have a do-over of yesterday’s lesson. You strip, I’ll watch.’ He folded his arms, and regarded her with a stony expression.
Claire froze. She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her when he’d been so apologetic about yesterday.
‘I’m waiting,’ he said, his gaze fixed on her. When she didn’t move, he rolled his eyes impatiently. ‘I know I said to go slow, but some time this century would be good. Come on, get on with it. Take your top off.’
She was starting to hate Luca. Her hands were clammy and tears burnt the backs of her eyes.
‘And no crying, please,’ he drawled. ‘Because being made to feel like a sex pest is the biggest boner-killer there is.’
‘No. I don’t want to,’ she said.
‘Sorry, can’t hear you.’
She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice stronger. ‘I said I don’t want to.’
