“It’s not the Irish,” I say. “It’s Conor. He’s a sick madman. If it wasn’t for trying to avoid a war, I would’ve ended him a long time ago.”

She nods. “Would you be able to find out if my aunt is okay? I don’t like her. I mean, heck, I might even hate her. But I’d also like to know.”

“I will,” I say.

“And Luca.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t see you as a bad person. I don’t see you as anything other than what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

She swallows, her throat shifting. “The man who saved me. The man who helped me fly away.”

But where are we flying?

Toward a future we both want?

Or will the flight end the second I tell her the truth?

“I’m here for you,” I say. “You’re never going to be in that position again. I promise.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Lena

“How is that sitting, huh?”

I grin as Jackson stops sniffing his leg and raises his head, lowering his butt, sitting upright in the sunlight shafting through the window.

I’ve only managed to get him there by bribing him with treats, putting them on a shelf above my head, and drawing his eye.

After Luca left for the city, the housekeeper – a lovely older woman named Olga – brought several bags to my room. There were clothes and an assortment of books and painting supplies.

Now, I sit in the studio, door closed, soft music playing from my phone.

Painting is the only way to distract myself, but even that isn’t working.

My mind swirls like paint colors mixing.

I think about how Luca reacted to my virginity. Or didn’t react since he didn’t even seem to care.

He even used the word virgin when he was dirty talking to me once, which must mean he can’t be that grossed out.

I remember the intensity in his voice when he was talking about his business, explaining how a lot of it is legitimate.

His tone became deep and serious when he spoke about killing and how much he hates it.

He even gets nightmares sometimes from his time in the mafia wars.

Maybe another woman would say no, she can’t be with a man who’s taken a life. But I saw the restraint Luca had in the hotel room.

Those men shot at him, bullets whizzing across the room – or at least a bullet, it’s hard to be sure – and he still aimed for the man’s knee instead. He still turned it into hand-to-hand combat as quickly as he could.

It's difficult to focus on the painting, my mind returning again and again to Luca, to how savage and possessive he seemed when he was gliding his manhood up between my ass.

I want to excite him like that again like he’s losing his mind, but this time I want to be able to give him what he really wants.

What we really want.

Except, he can’t want exactly the same thing as me.

Can he?

I step away from the easel with a sigh, adjusting my clothes. The fit is almost perfect, but they’re still a little baggy.

“Walkies, boy?” I say.

Jackson hops down from his perch in the sun, walking at my heel. The grounds around the safe house are long and green. A road is visible in the distance, telling me we’re a long way out of the city.

As we walk through the trees, I think about what it will be like when we’re finally able to make love.

He didn’t mention a condom last time. A silly part of me says that that’s because he wants a baby as badly as I do. He wants a life as desperately as I yearn for it.

But maybe he was just too excited.

Heck, even that is completely freaking crazy. I never thought I could do that to a man, let alone one as handsome and strong and all-around amazing as Luca.

Behind me, two guards follow at a distance, their hands near their hips and their gazes constantly scanning the area. It’s weird how different it feels since guards have been following me for so long.

With Conor’s men, I always felt violated, a prisoner.

But now, knowing that Luca is in charge of these guards, a protective, soothing feeling takes hold of me.

I walk until we’re at a small group of trees, and I lean against one of their trunks. Jackson bows his head and starts running through the trees, sniffing and cocking his leg. His tongue hangs out as he chases one scent and then redirects to another.

A few days ago, I’d never met Luca.

Jackson was always in danger. The threat of him being taken away hung over my head constantly.

I thought I would have to marry a man who makes me sick, who killed my parents.

Luca saved me.

This means I can’t tell him, can’t let out all this churning emotion, can’t risk what we’re building.

“Jackson, here, boy,” I call out but he doesn’t come.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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