- RORY -
I don’t know why, but I felt like Luciano was going to show up today. It was one of those irrational knowings. It’s part of the reason why I sat out by the pool. I needed to put distance between myself and the door in case I was right. I didn’t want to see him when he walked in. I didn’t want to be inside. Outside feels less claustrophobic.
When I turned and saw him standing there by , it was with a sense of deep relief that these things I sotis feel still happen. I can still count on my intuition. It hasn’t failed . Well, maybe it did before I walked into that bathroom at the country club, but no one would have seen that coming.
It’s taken a long ti to find a way to trust that inner voice. It took a long ti to even hear it, and then once its gentle, compassionate nudgings beca apparent, trusting that I wasn’t just crazy was the next step. Luciano being here today is proof that I’m not just crazy.
’Luciano is not a bad guy.’
That’s the next thing my intuition tells while I’m searching for plates in the kitchen, and this one has frowning to myself at how little sense it makes. How can soone in organized cri not be a bad guy?
’He was born into it.’
Well... I scoff internally at my own inner voice. That’s not an excuse. Is it? Then again... how can soone be blad for sothing they’re born into? It’s likely all he’s ever known.
’He rescued you that day. You felt safe with him.’
Those thoughts have my ears and cheeks starting to burn and small tears pricking my eyes. Now I’m gritting my teeth, angry at the emotions that are trying to rise. I’m not going to cry today. I haven’t cried yet and I’m not going to—especially not when Angelini’s is waiting for .
I have only ever eaten there once, and it was for an article I wrote. Angelini’s is among the best food I’ve ever eaten in this city. I truly cannot believe Luciano showed up here with that today. It’s like he ca with an unexpected secret key to unlocking the first set of protective doors I’ve built up around myself.
But that’s okay. He can co that close. It’s not like he’s getting through the rest of them.
"You okay?" Raya asks, coming to my side.
She’s one of few people who have keys to every single one of my doors and can walk right through my barriers and touch my soul. I’m honestly not even sure who else would qualify. Nana. But she’s gone.
Not even Westin got that close. Maybe that’s why he left. Or maybe I didn’t let him that close because I knew that it wasn’t forever and eventually he would leave. Either way, his leaving doesn’t hurt as bad as it could have had I allowed him to reach that centermost part of . That’s why that inner protection exists. Self-preservation.
"Yeah." I clear my throat to answer Raya’s question but don’t even bother trying to smile a reassurance. It takes too much energy. "Just getting so plates and silverware. Are you going to join us?" My eyes flit her way briefly.
"No. I ate. Thank you," she says with a soft smile.
I know damn well she has not eaten yet, but I don’t say anything.
"He must have brought sothing pretty good for you to not be kicking him out yet," she muses.
Again, I don’t bother with a reply. It’s true, but I don’t want to talk about it. And Raya lets stay comfortably in my silence. I’m inwardly preparing for the energy that’s going to be required to make it through this al with soone I barely know, so anything extra right now is not tolerable.
When I return outside with the plates, Luciano jumps up to help . I’m torn between being annoyed and touched. At least he didn’t demand that I sit still while he went in and got everything himself. I’m sure he knows his way around the kitchen. This is his cousin’s childhood ho after all. His late aunt and uncle lived here.
Luciano’s gaze doesn’t linger too long on , and for that I’m thankful. He also puts the plates down on either side of the table so that there will be that barrier between us while we eat—exactly like I would have done. It surprises , because he was so intense before. He seed like the kind of guy to push barriers rather than anticipate them and respect them.
’But you’ve been through sothing traumatic, Rory,’ my inner voice whispers. ’He knows that. He recognizes it. He may not have been there the first ti to protect you, but he was there the most recent ti.’
A deeper voice tries to co forth, and I feel it nudging in a place I don’t want to go. Its whispers are even more subtle and more disturbing, because it wants to say that this man will continue to be there from now on. Nothing will happen to in the future if Luciano can help it. If I allow him, he will keep safe. No more monsters will tornt . Maybe even past ones can be slayed.
But that’s stupid. I’m not giving myself over to the kind of faith all of that would require. Not only would it require faith, it would require handing over lots of keys to those locked doors inside. And that’s non-negotiable. It’s not happening.
I swallow back the emotion that tries to co forth again and sit down, scooting my chair closer to the table. Let’s just keep this simple. Let’s focus on the food. That’s why we’re here.
I’m curious to see what Luciano ordered. I doubt there is anything at Angelini’s that I wouldn’t like. So dishes might be better than others, but nothing can possibly be bad if Gino Angelini made it.
While Luciano opens the cartons, I’m struck by how much more thoughtful he is than I would have imagined. I an, the flowers are thoughtful but in a different way... in a lazy way. They require money but nothing else. Now I’m seeing Luciano’s humanity. I’m seeing how his mind works. He’s not just a brat who flirts and teases and expects my panties to drop because of it.
"I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a few antipasti," he says, gesturing toward the cartons containing bite-sized first course options. "Arancini, atballs, and vitello tonnato."
I swear my stomach rolls over on itself. Has Luciano always had this sexy of a voice? Or is it just because he’s speaking my language now?
When I wet my lips, his eyes dart up and catch it. They are dark and intense, and they linger for a mont just shy of the ti required to make my cheeks heat. It’s like he knows what would make uncomfortable and is avoiding it. Damn him.
Can’t he just be the obnoxious, flirty pest he was before? That man was easy to tell not to contact again even if he did rescue from a psychopath.
"And then there is the lemon cream sauce Angelini’s is known for in the taglioni limone. I also got lasagna verde and pumpkin tortelli. Do you have any allergies?" He asks, glancing up with a little concerned pinch between his perfect dark eyebrows.
"No," I say quietly, shaking my head and dropping my gaze. Because now I do feel my cheeks heating, and I don’t know why. All he did was ask very kindly if I had allergies. God, why is this happening?
I can feel Luciano’s eyes remain on as he pauses to tell the rest, so I take a napkin and unfold it on my lap to give myself an excuse not to look at him. I still have the blanket wrapped around , which is a ridiculous way to eat this incredibly beautiful al. But I’m not going to dwell on it. It’s not like he announced his arrival... even if I did sohow know he was coming.
"And then there is tiramisu, carrot cake, and gluten free chocolate caprese for dessert," he says softly.
"Wow," I smile into my lap, overwheld. He chose dishes that were inclusive since he was not aware if I had allergies.
Now I kind of wish I would have told him to leave. I wasn’t expecting to feel things. I just wanted to eat so good food.
"What would you like to start with, dolcezza?" He asks, but with the tone he uses it sounds like a different question. It sounds like he’s asking if I’m okay.
My eyes lift to find his dark ones much softer than I expect, and the mory of him holding gently, protectively—offering safety in the monts after I thought for sure I was about to die—flashes through my mind. Sothing convulses in my chest. I did not give any organs of mine permission to skip or flutter or ache or whatever the hell they’re doing, but it seems that’s not sothing I have control over.
Luciano waits quietly for my answer. I have to pick a dish if I want to convey that I’m okay—that he doesn’t have to worry about . Then we can have this al and he can leave without wondering what beca of after that day he lifted from the earth and told that he was going to fix it. After he swore on his life he would protect . He can go away from here and not wonder anymore, and I won’t get any more flowers or expected/unexpected visits.
’This man killed soone for you,’ that inner voice reminds , and tears prick my eyes.
"I don’t know," I say, clearing my throat for the second ti since he’s arrived. "It all looks beautiful. Maybe you can choose for ."
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