Lucca's Lust: The Luminara Series Book 3 (48 page)

Perhaps I need to consider doing this stupid fucking magazine interview just to get them off our backs. Lexi is not keen on the idea, but maybe they will back off a little and it will give them some information they want. Satisfy them a little and tick them over.

My advisors and PR agents advised me to use some of my Osurac projects to divert their attention and use it to my advantage. Seize the opportunity to publicise my enterprise and avoid more of the personal exploitation they relish in.

Before my press conference, I had to hire a team of professional PR agents to manage and control our publicity to work along with my good friend and solicitor, Omari Fayed. I sought out the best agents in the industry.

They had to be briefed on the sensitivity of the matter and be instructed to do anything it takes in order to cover up as many leaking articles and tabloid scandals on Lexi, Grace, and Cameron’s past as possible.

They have caught and put to bed most of the slander, but like everything in life, some things just do not stay buried for long. Someone always has a spade ready to dig or the means to obtain information which was hidden and destroyed years ago. Damn fucking vultures.

“I am just thinking I might agree to this magazine interview thing when things die down and my schedule clears. I think it will help everyone, or I am hoping it will,” I say before finishing my second beer.

“Okay, whatever you think. I trust you’ll do the right thing, but just make sure Lex is on board. You know she’ll kick up about it. How is she today? Is she still sick? She wasn’t feeling great yesterday when I spoke to her.” Cameron knows his sister well.

He is spot on. She will be averse to the idea of the magazine interview. His tone is sympathetic and sincere, asking about her health. He will be really worried about her.

“She was sick yesterday. It seems to come and go now, whereas before she was sick around the clock. Today she has been okay, just tired, and she will not fucking listen to the doctors or to me when we tell her she needs bed rest.” I walk back to the bar to open another beer. At this rate I will be buzzed before Casey arrives for our session. Fucking therapy, not me. Do not need it. Nah.

Cameron laughs. “Yeah, well I did try to warn you how feisty she can be … and headstrong.” A ghost of a smile crosses my face, softening the muscles I have been tensing in my jaw.

Lexi thinks because she is over the worst of her acute morning sickness, she can do all the things she did before. She tries to protest when I take her to bed, often forcing herself to stay awake until she always passes out on me with exhaustion and I need to take her to bed anyway. I know exactly what she is trying to do. She thinks if she forces herself to stay awake, then I will not insist she needs bed rest. Cute, but not happening. My baby girl needs rest.

“Yeah, I pretty much worked that out for myself, bud, early on. She keeps me on my toes, but I would not have it any other way.” I swig back more Peroni. This shit is going down too easy. I better calm down and pace myself.

“Tell my mum I’ll call her tomorrow. When is her next session with Casey?” he asks.

I pick up some documents sitting on the lamp table beside the sofa and utilise some time. I feel the chest pocket of my shirt for the ballpoint pen Lexi got me. Scrolling my fingers over the words she had engraved on it, I smile, feeling a tug at my heart strings.

‘Il mio qualcosa di speciale. TI amo, ora e per sempre, Lexi x’.

You are my something special. Now and forever, Lexi x.

She has no idea just how special she is to me. I do not think I have told her today how special she is, how much I love her. I better remedy that later when I hold her before she falls asleep on me.

Setting my beer on the table, I flick through the Osurac reports at the top of the pile, scribbling my signature frantically before giving these back to Suzanne tomorrow morning.

“Lexi and your mum both have sessions again tomorrow,” I reply, tapping the pen quickly on my paper feeling agitated. I fail to tell him I have a session with her. Joke. Absolutely unnecessary. Complete joke.

“Okay, mate, give them a kiss and hug from me. Tell them I’ll speak to them both tomorrow and that I miss them,” he says.

“Sure, buddy. Kiss my sister from me, tell her I love her, and keep her out of mischief,” I reply, signing another document.

“Lucca, this is your sister we’re talking about. Kiss … yes, can do, but mischief? Can’t promise that.”

It actually elicits a laugh from me. I know how cheeky my sister can be. Cameron must have the patience of a goddamn saint.

“Fair point. Okay, if you cannot keep her out of mischief, then make sure you keep her safe.” I add, shaking my head with a grin, placing the documents back on the table.

After disconnecting, I chug the beer in one go and place the pen back in my shirt pocket. Closing my eyes, I link my hands behind my head and rest backwards, chest rising, fingers gripping.

Cameron telling me that everyone back home is tense has not helped my mood. If anything, it has made it worse. I know it was not intentional, and I told him I want to know everything that is going on to ensure everyone’s safety, but fuck, it stings like a bitch.

Fuck it. I pace towards the bar, lift a large wine goblet, and open a bottle of expensive red wine my papa left. Maybe it will help relieve a bit of tension. I swirl my first mouthful of the deep burgundy wine, closing my eyes to appreciate the blend. It is pretty damn good. Turning the bottle I look at the label: Brunello di Montalcino.
Nice
.

Savouring the wine, I think of Lexi … and lunch in the vineyard with antipasti, olives, cheese, breads, and oils. I think of making love to her on a picnic blanket outside in the sunshine and curling up on the love chair underneath the orange tree, watching the sunset.

A knock at the door startles me from my reverie. I invite Casey in, double-cheek kiss her as I have not spoken to her since this morning, and ask her to take a seat on the sofa. She is dressed casually, because she is a guest here and I very much like her and Suzanne to both feel at home when they are not working, to treat this trip like a holiday. I notice she frowns looking at the glass.

“Wine?” I ask, holding up my glass.

“I was thinking more … coffee. How much wine have you had? You need to keep a clear head for our session to make any sense whatsoever.” She sounds curt, crossing her arms across her chest, pressing her mouth into a firm line. She is pissed. Just as well we are good friends and she is exceptionally forgiving. She will get over it.

“This is my first glass. Please join me in a glass … or … or I will make you coffee if you prefer,” I stutter, lowering my tone at the end. Cleverly, I backtrack, giving her the option when I see her scrunching her brow. I fail to mention I have had a few beers already.

The worry etched on my face and tiredness in my eyes is a dead giveaway that I would very much like a relaxed, casual conversation, not an intense therapy session like at her clinic. She appears to have other ideas. Why does she have to be so goddamn serious? It intimidates me. I feel as if I am about to get a good grilling.

“Just a coffee, thank you.”

Nodding, I set my wine down and head back to the bar area. Holding up a selection of coffee pods for her to choose from, she picks a decaffeinated one. I nod and then prepare the machine for her, but I feel her eyes burn me. She watches my every move. Trying to ease the unsettling tension, I ask her how her day was.

I give Casey her coffee and place a plate of those little truffles my cousin Annalisa made for us in front of her. Then I set the bottle of wine on the table and take a seat on the sofa across from her, wine goblet in hand. She eyes the bottle of wine conspicuously.

“So … Lexi. I want to ask you what you think about her, do you think she is coping better?” I just come out and say it, taking a long drink of wine, swirling it in my mouth to savour the flavour before swallowing.

“Yes, I do see improvement, and I’m sure she’s coping better. She seems to be more upbeat and enthusiastic, and she’s writing in her journal again. As Lexi is happy for me to discuss her progress with you, I will, but first I want to talk about you,” she says, blowing on her coffee.

And so it begins.

“Casey, look I am fine. I am coping just fine. I honestly would rather you put all your efforts into helping Lexi and Grace,” I say, staring at the table, avoiding eye contact.

“Lucca, let’s cut to the chase. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You’re barking out orders to your staff. I’ve heard you on the phone and that is not you. You’re tense and suffering headaches. You barely let Lexi breathe without you. You’re agitated, and most of all, you’re stressed. Lucca …
you are not coping
. So talk,” she says, ticking off the top of her index finger.

Christ, she never wasted any time tearing into me. Casey is always direct with me, that is what I prefer, but with Lexi and Grace she is more sensitive, compassionate, and patient. I have always asked her to be honest and direct with me, and here she is doing so, and I feel like I have been kicked in the balls.

Now that I think about it … yeah, I have not been eating much. I do not have time and just forget. And I do not sleep because I like to hold Lexi in my arms and watch her sleep. I like to whisper against her skin and talk to our little one. And headaches … Casey would have a fucking headache or two if she had the pressures we have. Nothing two painkillers cannot resolve.

“Okay, I admit I might be a little tense,” I say sheepishly. I have in fact lost my balls, and she has only been here two minutes.

She removes her red spectacles from her face, placing them on her head. Shit … that is what she does when she wants to see right into your soul with her own eyes. Not through lenses. Laser right into my third eye. Drinking her coffee, she sits backwards, making herself more comfortable. Complacent. She can wipe that smug look of her face.

“A little?” she asks coyly.

I sigh. “Okay, I am tense a lot and stressed. Happy?” I say before taking another sip of wine, forgoing the mouth swirling to simply down it in one long gulp.

“No, I’m not happy. Far from it. I hate to see you like this, and I’m concerned about you. Lucca, you are my friend and you know I wouldn’t be saying this to you if I didn’t think I could help you. I
want
to help you. You need to open up to me if I’m going to be able to help.” Her voice sounds needy.

“I am opening up. I just told you I am stressed. What more do you want me to say?” I ask, feeling frustrated.

“I want you tell me you want my help. I want you to accept that you need help, and I want you to tell me why you’re stressed in order for me to help you, if not for you then for Lexi.” Raising her brow, she moistens her lips then presses them together.

Fuck … cards are right on the table. It does not take a fucking genius to work out why I am stressed. Come on, Casey, you could have been a little more tactful. Using Lexi to get me to talk … real crafty.
She knows what motivates me
. It has worked.

My eyes widen. I stare at her, right into her eyes. She holds our gaze with an impassive expression on her face. Exhaling, I break our eye contact first and turn my head. It is too hard. Staring her in the eyes is the beginning of the chipping process.

Do I want her help? Of course I do. I want to help Lexi in any way that I can. I would do anything for her. Anything. If it means allowing Casey to chip, shatter, break, and then glue me … that is what I will do. She has me. Since when is playing dirty a part of therapy?

“Okay, I would like your help. I would like to be able to help Lexi, and you seem to think that by me opening up it will help her. I will open up,” I say in a baritone voice, rather bluntly, waving my hand around with little enthusiasm.

Casey smiles. “Good. Look, Lucca, I just feel that if you’re stressed, if you’re holding onto tension, then Lexi will pick up on it, and the baby might pick up on it too. Lexi needs to be calm and relaxed. If she worries about you, then it’ll add to her angst … Some research shows that even in the womb babies are receptive to stress.” My stomach almost hits the floor. Is she fucking kidding me here?

Our little one sensing our stress. Fuck!

“The last thing I want is to add to Lexi’s concerns and anxiety, or to jeopardise the well-being of our little one. I would never intentionally hurt either of them. Casey, I am trying to be strong for Lexi, not weak and fragile. If I can keep grounded and be strong for us both, then she has a better chance of coping and being more relaxed. She needs me,” I say before taking another mouthful of wine. It is not rocket science. I must be a strong man and look after my dolcezza.

“I know you wouldn’t want to upset them, but you are only human, Lucca. You shouldn’t be ashamed to admit that you’re struggling to cope. Don’t be a martyr. Lexi needs you whole, focused and with a clear head.” She taps the side of her head trying to make a point. I stare into the corner of the room to admire the huge painting of Lexi on the wall that Grace painted.

Breathtaking.

The tension in my jaw is already relaxing while I admire my beauty on canvas.

“If I show weakness, then that will upset Lexi. I can guarantee that she will worry herself sick if she thought I was struggling. If I remain positive for her, she has a better chance of coping and trusting that I am able to look after her,” I reply, still admiring the painting of my beautiful angel.

“Lexi already is worried sick, Lucca. She is worried about you. What do you think we’ve been talking about? She hates to see you tense and anxious, and she’s hurt because you won’t open up to her,” Casey says with a gentle tone, but I do not look at her expression because I feel like all the air has left my lungs. The thought of me hurting Lexi kills me. It kills me inside. And it is a fucking painful death.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That Lexi will think you can’t look after her because you’re struggling to cope?” she continues in a soft voice.

Yes. That is exactly what I think.