Best Laid Plans (9 page)

“Yeah.”

“Am I assuming, or it’s...” She trailed off. Luca closed one eye.

“Pretty definite, yeah.”

Of course he was too perfect and there was something fundamentally wrong with him. The irony of the situation was starting to press on her lungs. She’d nearly gone to prison for domestic violence and so had he. Her suffering under Leon had been genuine, and she had the injuries to prove it. Crying out loud, she should have taken the girls’ offer to do a search on him. Would it have put her off?

She was still in the bed, ready to be more bendy again. Even though they really shouldn’t and their overindulgence had caused this in the first place. Stupid old fifth condom.

“Right.” Frankie cleared her throat. “What was your girlfriend’s problem with that? Other than the obvious.”

“I didn’t touch her,” he said with such sincerity, it stung at her eyes. “I swear, I’d never do that to a woman I shared my life with.”

She reassured him instantly. “I
know
you wouldn’t. I mean what the fuck was her problem?”

“I’m not in that life anymore. I’ve paid my dues. But Dafne, she sold me out.”

“For money?”

“It’s the easiest way to get caught,” he said with a sudden yawn. The bed dipped sharply as he settled his naked body beneath the sheets. “Showing off everything you have when everyone knows your cover job couldn’t buy you a thread, let alone the whole thing. Dafne thought I hadn’t been generous enough and decided to punish me for it. Make it look convincing that I was not only violent for money, but I got violent for kicks as well. She told me that the police would back off if I told her where my money was.” He yawned again. “I deserve all my scars. But there are times when I can feel it, where the razor cut into my skin, like it’s happening all over again. It’s a reminder to me that I don’t need that anymore. And I want to stay out.”

What a fucking bitch.
“That’s nice,” she said lightly. “What’s this woman’s second name again?”

He gazed at her, amusement bright in his eyes. “You should see someone about that temper.”

“It’s not a temper tantrum if I’m correcting someone’s behaviour.”

“Sweetheart, the last time you did that, this happened.” He took her hand and traced where glass had embedded itself in her flesh. “Everything happens for a reason.”

“You are far too calm about this. I don’t know how you’re okay with this—I still get angry on a regular basis, but I have a counsellor. I know you’re not dealing with it because you wouldn’t still have nightmares if you were.”

“It’s fine. If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have got out. And I wouldn’t have met you. So no need for you to take up arms.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” She felt herself weakening. “I mean I don’t even know anyone in Italy to stay with.”

“You can travel there, and that’s what scares me.”

She breathed out. “I’m only mad, because I just don’t like the idea of you in pain.”

He lifted her thumb to his mouth and bit gently. “Kiss it better for me, then.”

She stayed with him the whole weekend, and it was glorious to wake up and see her face next to his, feel her body pressed against his own on both mornings. They mostly milled around the flat, but took a walk along Putney Bridge and along the Thames after Francesca demanded some fresh air. “I know if we’re in public you won’t try to stick me on your dick. As much as I enjoy that, I ache like hell.”

He couldn’t really argue with that, so a walk was taken. They sat on a bench under the shade of the park trees that paralleled the river and watched people, cars and buses passing over the bridge. Francesca lay her head on his thigh and fell asleep within a few minutes. This was what it was to be happy. At peace. He knew Francesca was sleeping because she couldn’t worry any more about him or what could be in a month’s time. After all, he had told her the worst and she was still with him. She hadn’t crawled out of his bed and skipped back to Balham wiping her brow and crying, “Lucky escape!”

Instead, she’d listened, threatened Dafne and embraced him. Then she’d sent him out for more protection and ginger ale to calm her tummy, which he bought in record speed. It didn’t stop him from secretly hoping that he had made her pregnant. What else would he need to make his life complete? Not that their opinion mattered, but it would allow him to be a better father than his own ever had been. His child with Francesca would want for absolutely nothing, and never would his child doubt that he or she was loved completely by both parents.

Come Sunday afternoon, Francesca wanted to go home to get herself sorted for work, but they didn’t leave until early evening. She pulled on the dress she’d worn on Friday, having spent the rest of the weekend in his shirts alone. Her panties, barely worn, were tucked into her handbag. It was enough to have a man committed.

“If I stay any longer, I won’t go to work for no reason other than to stay in your bed, and then I’ll be really screwed.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

She’d grinned. “As sweet as that is, not going to happen. This is me sane. Me not working is me not sane. It’s not pretty, I’m warning you.”

Was it too soon to ask her to move in with him? Yes, yes it was. Demanding obedience to his command, he drove her home with her clear direction. They pulled up to her house and she gave a sigh. “This is me.”

“Come to me tomorrow,” he insisted.

“But we’ve...”

“It’s not enough. Come,” he added, drawing her into a deep kiss. With a snap, he unbuckled his seat belt, her own, and then she was half dragged onto his lap. He caught the seat release lever and the back fell, allowing Francesca to be draped on top of him. His hand wandered beneath her dress, stroking soft thigh and edging toward her pussy once more.

She caught his wrist. “Not in a car, not in a car! And definitely
not
outside my house.”

He pulled back a little, to see how serious she was. “Will you come to me tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes! All right! Just stop being naughty!”

A grin stretched his lips. “Nice doing business with you.”

She gave him one last kiss before she scrambled from his body. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.”

He caught her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Goodnight, Francesca.”

“Goodnight, Gianluca.”

He righted the seat and waited until she was a step inside the front door. She turned and waved to him, and he lifted a hand in response. Luca had to wonder if he was being watched, because the moment his beautiful Francesca closed the door to her home, his mobile rang. Her scent still lingering in the interior of the car, he calmly put the call on speaker and eased the vehicle back into traffic heading for Putney. A glance at the number told him it was a call from Italy.
Shit.
It couldn’t possibly be good news.

“Yes?”

“Gianluca?”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. It was his mother. “Yes, Mother?”

“It’s your father. He’s, um, he’s very sick. We need help, I can’t cope with just. How much. Work it is to look after him.”

He knew where this was going, and he had no intention of going back home to take care of a man who resented his existence—tears of the wife or not. Alfieri Caristo was a man embittered by the successes of everyone around him, having neither the intelligence nor the talent to make his own way in the world. Luca was the sum of all that was wrong with the Caristo family because he was the one who had turned away from the correct, law enforcement path. Luca made it worse by looking more like Tony’s brother than Alfieri’s son. Not that his mother, Edrige, was any better: she distanced herself from any mutiny on Luca’s part to keep herself from being engulfed by Alfieri’s temper.

“Get a nurse. A live-in carer.”

“We can’t afford that!”

That wasn’t true. Not even nearly. “You can, I’ve been sending you money. Every month.”

Edrige paused. “We used it to get your sister and her husband a house. Your father didn’t feel right keeping it. Can you come home? Help us find someone? We’re probably going to need someone to live in, and... It’s going to cost so much money.”

Fuck’s sake.
“I’ll send the money to you.”

Edrige played her best card. “Gianluca, you need to come home. You don’t know what your actions have cost us. The least, the very least you can do is come home and help us. You broke your father’s heart when you took up with your cousin and his horrible friends. And what you did to Dafne made us sick, it made him sick.”

“Then how will it help you if I go back?” he asked, injecting patience into his voice. It was a story he’d heard a million times before. None of it made a difference. And it absolutely should not taint his time with his sweetheart.

“At least he’ll know you’re sorry.”

“He won’t care,” Luca replied. “He’ll go to his grave believing the worst of me. Whether I’m there in person, or if I send money instead, won’t make any difference.”

“Are you that cold hearted? Whatever he’s said to you, he brought you up. He clothed you and fed you. He had a stroke. He nearly died.”

Luca wondered if it made him evil that the knowledge relieved him rather than upset him. “And the only reason I’m being told now is to pay his way to recover?”

Edrige was quiet for a long time. Her voice broke when she spoke again. “Do one decent thing for this family. Come home and help. It’s about more than just money, I promise you.”

“I’ll call you back,” he said shortly. “End call.” The phone automatically disconnected. “Call Rocco.”

“Do I need to take another trip to Naples?” Rocco asked on answering. “Because I’d quite like to take my fiancée with me to Sicily. We could do a stop off, get you out of whatever trouble you’re in, then stay in Palermo for a week. Maybe two.”

Tony did say his friends were all dropping like married flies. “I’m not in trouble, I just want to know if I’d get into any if I went back for a really short time. Like a few days.”

“What are you going there to do?” Rocco’s tone suddenly turned neutral. The same neutral tone he used when he was ripping into the Napoli police without breaking a sweat.

“My father had a stroke and I need to find some nursing care for him.”

Rocco sighed. “It’s going to take longer than a few days. It depends on the severity of the stroke. What his mobility is, what physiotherapy can be done to help, what level of care he’s going to need and for what duration. A few days! Mate, you’ll be lucky if you leave before a few months.”

Luca’s heart contracted wildly. “What?”

“You’re going to need professional help to deal with him, I’m telling you. Finding the care is what’s going to take time. Plus if you need to refurbish the house to make things accessible for him. It involves builders, electricians if necessary, and plumbers. Can you run all that in three days?”

To get back to Francesca? No question.
“I’ll see what it is he needs, but is La Madama going to come after me?”

“Like I said, there isn’t a blot on your record. They made the mistake. Do yourself a favour though. Stay away from Dafne.”

“What if she won’t stay away from me?”

“I’d encourage you to exercise all caution to avoid that woman at all costs. Like I said, if I go to Naples, I want to be able to take my fiancée with me, and she’s got a serious aversion to police stations. I doubt foreign ones will make a difference.”

Luca wanted to punch something into dust. “I heard you. Thank you, Rocco.”

“Take care. Call me if you do run into trouble. That’s the whole point of my genius.”

The words tugged a reluctant grin onto his mouth. “I will do. Bye, Rocco.”

The solicitor ended the call and Luca forced himself to take deep breaths. Looked like he was going back home. But before he left, there was one thing he really needed to take care of. Leon Bridges did not need to be alive while Luca was out of the country. It was going to be done anyway, just a little faster than intended.

Frankie felt far too excited. It buoyed her through the whole of Monday. She kept having the most inappropriate flashbacks at the most inappropriate times. The best time to think about Luca’s tongue stroking over her skin wasn’t when her boss was trying to talk to her about meetings, nor in the midst of a lecture from her mother.

“You’ve been gone all weekend and not a single phone call! Anything could have happened to me!”

Frankie tore her thoughts from how strong Luca’s arms felt beneath her thighs to try and focus on what Joanne was yelling. “What? You’re shouting at me, I’m assuming you’re fine.”

“That’s not the point. You’re living in my house. You should have enough respect for me to let me know you’re all right. Or at least to check that I am. Or were you too busy with your date?” She spat the last word much to Frankie’s amusement.

“Last year you couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough. What’s so different now? Is it because someone’s interested in me?”

“You should be careful.” Joanne looked her up and down with disgust. “And he’ll lose interest in you now you’ve just given up the goods.”

Nothing she hadn’t heard before. “Even if he does, it was so worth it.”

Edging around her, Frankie went to take a leisurely shower and find a matching set of lingerie before she met Luca. He wouldn’t be back from the restaurant until late, but he’d insisted that she come to Putney and they’d go and see a film. Goodness, her mother was a silly woman sometimes. Always believing the worst of her. When she’d had nowhere to go but home after Leon’s stupidity, Joanne had asked her what Frankie had done to him. “I thought he was a calm man,” she’d said. “You must have pushed something in him.”

Whatever her mother’s need to be right, Frankie would stop feeding it. While she drove to Putney, she had a quick call with the nurse at the GP’s surgery. Apparently, she’d done the right thing, but she should stick to condoms in date.

Ending the call, she did feel the briefest flash of disappointment. No Lucesca baby yet then. She slapped her own thigh.
Stop that, you met the man just under a week ago.
It didn’t stop her from dreaming. Hmm, maybe her mother was right and she should be careful. For her own good. His issues were just as bad as her own, and God only knew if his ex wasn’t still gunning for him. It briefly crossed her mind that she was displaying classic characteristics of someone suffering abuse by ignoring warning signs and imagining the other person would be better with her. The way Luca looked at her, insisting he hadn’t touched his ex in violence… How could she not believe him?