not backing down either.
“He’s
right. This isn’t the time to start your sh— your issues,” Rafe corrects,
stealing a glance at his mother whose face has gone pale as she glances back
and forth among her three sons.
Giovanni
grins, but it’s a humorless one. “My issues? My little brother can’t keep his
pecker out of trouble for one minute, and I’m the one who has the problem?”
Luca
scoffs, “Maybe if yours was more noticeable then I’d have a little competition
with my problem.” Giovanni shoots to his feet and so does Rafe.
“Boys!
I will not have this. Not in front of our guests. I will turn all three of you
across my knee. Do not think I won’t do so,” Simona warns and I believe every
word of her threat. Obviously, her sons do, too; all three kind of sulk back to
their respective spots at the dinner table. As soon as they’re settled down,
Simona closes her eyes and sighs deeply. “This is the first time we have all
been together at the same table in months. You will honor your father’s memory.
All three of you. Or I won’t speak to any of you again until after Venice.”
“Mama, you’re upset. You’ll hurt yourself
if you aren’t careful,” Luca says, his words piquing my curiosity. He moves
over to sit beside his mother, taking her hands in his. “Mi spiace.” He kisses
his mother’s knuckles as he apologizes, showing me yet another side of the man
who is nothing like the person he allows the public to make him out to be.
Chapter
8 : Olive Trees & Bumblebees
Adriana
Later
in the evening, Luca leads me outside. He’s completely subdued. No poetry or
telling me how gorgeous my body parts look, or even that overcharged grin I’ve
seen him use on women. The one where he seems to be pulling his target under
his spell the longer she glances into his eyes, which are absolutely gorgeous
when the rosy colored rays of the sun hits them the way the beams are doing
right now, giving his irises a deeper hue of blue, a hypnotic shade. Snap
out of it, Adriana! I can almost hear Lis’s voice in the back of my head,
chiding me for drooling over ten guys at a time; a characteristic that’s more
like something my brother, Alek, would do.
“This
is so beautiful,” I say as we walk through the olive garden. Casa Blanca sits
at the top of one of the rolling hills, so everything beneath the villa is
covered in shades of peach, red, and orange.
“I
used to come back here and hide from my brothers,” Luca begins, shoving his
hands in his pocket as he glances across the hillside, the wind teasing his hair.
I can tell he’s lost in some deep thought, but tell-tale signs of the
testosterone that was brewing between the three men still exists in the tense
way he stands.
“Why
were you hiding?” I ask.
“Can’t
tell you that. You would think the worst of me,” he answers, smiling with sad
eyes. What’s your real story, Luca Martuccio?
“I
already have my doubts about you,” I tease. He looks absolutely crestfallen.
“Just kidding, all right? Trust me when I say there’s no way I have a right to
judge anyone. Like seriously.”
This
earns me a smirk and a dimpled grin. He’s fantastically handsome when he’s
genuine and not trying to be a New Age Romeo. “I would hide from my brothers.
Mama and Papa attended church on a regular basis, leaving me to defend myself
against the spawns of Dante himself.” I can only imagine what someone as
devious as Rafe and as violence prone as Giovanni would do to the fair-haired
brother amongst the trio. A vision of a frightened little boy with blond,
shaggy bangs hanging on his forehead crosses my mind, and a fierce feeling of
wanting to protect him sweeps over my body. I understand being the underdog in
the family, the bright child, the one who’s never supposed to feel sad,
overwhelmed, or neglected. Everyone else is so busy loving me that, they have
never really seen the person I truly am, the woman waiting patiently inside the
girl’s