Less formal.
Less tame.
More raw and real and vulnerable.
- I never responded to your text to me. A part of me was worried I'd overstepped a line, taken advantage of a situation, that you regretted it. For the record, I didn't. And if my brother hadn't interrupted, I would have liked to show you how much I wanted that, how much more there could have been. I'm not saying this with future expectations, but in the interest of clearing the air. I was a chickenshit not to do so before. Come back. Future or no future, come back. Let's fix this together.
I couldn't imagine men such as Luca—with powerful positions, with all the money and influence, who lived a fearless lifestyle—often found a reason to be vulnerable, to open up. They didn't need to. And if they didn't need to, when they did it, it had a lot more impact, it rang a lot more true.
I didn't immediately respond, though, doing battle with the two lanes of thought until they collided at some point around sunup.
Yes, it was dangerous to go back.
No, it was not a good idea to do any more kissing—or anything else—with Luca Grassi.
But despite all that, I decided the only option was to go back.
And that if things did progress with Luca, then I was going to go ahead and let them.
Eventually, if all things panned out, I would likely be back in Venezuela with my sister for a while. And then back in California. A whole country away.
It would be over.
I would have no connections to the New Jersey mob anymore.
It seemed relatively low risk.
If it came to that.
Taking a deep breath, I shot off a text with my location, asking him to come alone.
From my position, I would be able to see him before he saw me, would know if he honored his word or not. And would have just enough time to slip away if I saw Lucky or Matteo tagging along.
And then I waited.
I didn't have to wait long, though.
I saw Luca's car driving up about half an hour later, and pulled into a spot. He climbed out looking as flawless as ever in one of his dark gray suits, his face even scruffier than the day before.
I waited as he looked around and tried to find me, staying in the shadow of a boat waiting to go in the water while I made sure no one else followed.
Confident he was true to his word, I took a step out, waiting for Luca's gaze to find me.
When it did, I saw genuine relief there, something that made a weight drop from his shoulders, that made his jaw loosen.
"I was worried about you," he admitted, both of us walking toward one another.
"Likely not as worried as I was that Matteo and Lucky were going to execute me."
"I've talked to them."
"Talked," I repeated, hand raising, sliding across a bruise on his cheek. "Is this from talking?" I asked, snatching my hand back when I realized I was stroking his face.
"Sometimes I use my hands to get my point across," he told me, shrugging it off. "He had it coming," he added.
"I wanted to slap him," I agreed, nodding.
"Calling him a dick took some balls," he told me, almost looking a little proud of my runaway mouth.