Not only was his touch soothing, his reassurances were exactly what I needed to hear. How was it the very subject of my turmoil could also be my primary source of comfort? Luca was everything I wanted and the absolute worst thing for me. Logic and emotion warred inside me, and I had no idea which would win the battle.
After listening to the front door close, I went into his large master bathroom to change. The space was the perfect complement to the rest of the apartment—white cabinetry with beautiful grey marble counters and a large white free-standing porcelain tub near the far wall. Behind that, a walk-through shower extended the length of the back wall with a dozen shower heads for two occupants.
His closet door was open, which I took as an invitation to peer inside. One wall was lined with suits, which didn’t surprise me since I’d seen him in a different suit each day we’d been together. As I walked along the row of clothes, I grazed my fingertips across the rich fabrics, and his spicy scent enveloped me in the confined space. My eyes briefly closed as I breathed him in, languishing in the illusion of having him near.
There were several pairs of sneakers, all worn but well cared for—an unwelcome reminder of his training activities. The closet boasted a collection of expensive ties of which Neimen Marcus would be proud—all nearly solid in powerful colors like red, black and royal blue. I wasn’t brave enough to snoop in his drawers, even though I desperately wanted to.
Being left alone to peruse his personal belongings sent an excited tingle through all my nerve endings. I loved being in his space, and that was a dangerous prospect. My logical mind insisted I should walk out the door and never look back, but my body didn’t comply. Despite what I’d said, I wasn’t sure it made any difference if I had space from him or not—he was in my veins, with me always.
My body thrummed with need for him. Separation only made my awareness of him more acute, my mind plagued with thoughts of him, and my body heavy with a sense ofloss. When he wasn’t around, I felt empty. My need for him twisted my thoughts, and I rationalized reasons to keep him near me.
I was a junkie.
The realization hit me with the driving force of an arctic wind, and my entire body shivered. All it had taken was one hit—one fateful exchange in an elevator, and I was hooked. Could I break the habit? Did I want to? How could I consider staying with him when he was in the mafia?
The circular arguments and constant inner turmoil were exhausting. I hadn’t even realized how tired I was until I stepped back into his bedroom. Sheer blinds covered the windows, casting a soft glow in the room, making it peaceful and inviting. The bed looked heavenly. It hadn’t been made, but the covers weren’t in disarray either. It was clear Luca slept on the near side where a clock and a glass sat on the nightstand. Leaning over, I sniffed the pillow—it smelled like him. The scent drew me closer as I crawled beneath the covers, surrounding myself in his safety and warmth. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so comfortable in my entire life, and my worries faded away as my eyes drifted shut.
A caress down the length of my arm roused me from my sleep.
“A man could get used to coming home to a sight like this.” Luca sat next to where I lay in his bed, his eyes soft like warm milk chocolate. “Time to get up. I’m taking you out.”
I glanced up at the clock. “Six! I slept longer than I expected.” I sat up groggily, gently rubbing my eyes so as not to smear my makeup before I remembered all the crying I’d done. I was lucky if my eye makeup wasn’t already spread all over my face.
“It was an eventful morning; you needed the rest.”
I nodded blankly, and he chuckled.
“Get dressed, sleepyhead—although, I get an enormous amount of pleasure seeing you in my clothes.” His voice deepened, and when I met his eyes, his gaze was hooded.
I set my feet on the ground and shook my head. “I’ll get changed, but can we go somewhere casual? I’m not up for formal dining.”
His face split in a wide grin. “I know just the place.”
Luca drove us along the Harlem River and over the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. It was late enough in Spring that the sun still lit the sky, and I enjoyed watching the city go by as we rode in companionable silence. Rather than satellite radio or his phone, Luca had a local radio station playing, which I found intriguing but didn’t ask about. It felt like we were in a bubble, removed from the expectations and responsibilities of life, and I didn’t want to burst that moment.
We pulled into the parking lot of a hole-in-the-wall place called Hiram’s. The small building had neon signs in each window and a faded wooden hotdog sign next to the name.
“You have a thing for hotdogs, don’t you?” I teased, recalling our hot dog dinner at Coney Island.
“You can’t beat a good hotdog. I grew up eating them, never been able to break the habit.”
“I’ve heard of this place but never been,” I noted as we got out of the car.
“Baby, if you haven’t had Hiram’s, you haven’t really lived,” he teased playfully, making me laugh.
The small restaurant must have been a house originally.The ceilings were low inside, and the far wall boasted a heavily decorated stone fireplace. It only fit about half a dozen small round tables, and there was a counter just inside the door where customers placed their orders.
“What do you want?” asked Luca.
“Just a plain dog.”
“Plain? No chili or sauerkraut? You’re at least going to put mustard on it, right?” He gaped at me incredulously.
“Nope,” I replied firmly. “I’m a plain and dry kind of girl. Take it or leave it.”
Luca leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I happen to know very intimately there is nothing plain or dry about you.”
My cheeks flamed with heat, which must have shown because Luca grinned wickedly at my response.
