“Are you always like this?”
“Never.”
The word comes out harsher than I intend. Her eyes widen a fraction. I’m no longer fisting her hair but cupping her skull and supporting its weight as she tilts it back to look up at me.
“What do you mean take care of me? That you’re offering me a place to stay and food to eat?”
“Yeah. But I want you to know you can rely on me when you’re scared, that you can come to me when you’re worried.”
“If I do that, then you’ll have a second shadow.”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
She smiles, and the angels sing.
“I’d be underfoot like a chihuahua.”
“Hardly. I don’t take you for the yappy type, and I don’t think you’d bite.” I wink. “Unless I asked you to.”
I can’t help the innuendo. I don’t flirt, but I find I want to with Livy. I want to lighten her mood, but I also want her.
“Luca, I’m scared. This all—it’s too much. I’m scared that the Culiacán won’t give up. I’m scared that I don’t have a job or a car. I’m scared because I can’t go to my place. I’m scared they’ll find my mom. I’m scared to trust you. I’m scared of how attracted I am to you at the worst possible time. I’m scared of dying. I’m just fucking scared of everything.”
I think about sitting next to her on the bed, but she’s just told me being attracted to me frightens her. The bed isn’t the right place to take her. I slide my hand into hers and lead her to the love seat positioned to see the TV. I sit, then pull her onto my lap. She curls up like she did in the car on the way here.
“If this were a normal situation where we met at a bar or store or coffeeshop or wherever, then I would have chatted with you and asked for your number. I would have called you—not texted, but actually talked to you—and asked you out. I would have prayed you’d say yes. If you had, I would have taken you to dinner and maybe a movie, or to a museum, or for a walk, or whatever you wanted. I would have prayed for a goodnight kiss and that you would agree to another date and another and another. But that’s not what fate dealt us. But I can make dinner for you, or we could order in. We can watch a movie in like five different places in this house. We can walk around the backyard. It’s not ideal, but it’s what we have. Livy, would you go out with me?”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“No. I’m trying to find a normal way for you to trust me and get used to me. I’m trying to take care of you. I know you’re scared, and I hate it. I caused this as much as Carlos and his family. I’m trying to make it better.”
She’s silent a long time as she digests what I said.
“Luca, I don’t have trust issues, despite watching my father intimidate my mother and having him threaten me more than once with a knife. But neither am I too trusting and naïve. Something in me is telling me I can and should trust you. If you disappoint me, I’ll never forgive you. If you’re saying all this just to fuck, then you don’t need to.”
“Are you saying you’d fuck me even if you didn’t trust me?”
I’ll deal with that first.
“I mean, if this is just about sex, then let it just be about sex. You don’t have to win me over. You’re hot, and you know I desire you, even if this is such a fucked-up time for this.”
“Is that all you want? Someone to fuck until you can move on with your life? Is that how you want me to distract you?”
“I’m just saying don’t play me for a fool, Luca. If you want to fuck me, then forget about me, then just say so. You don’t have to woo me.”
“That is not what I want. I don’t lie, Liv. I have plenty of faults, and you know I sin without remorse. But I have been honest with you since the start. I told you what you needed to do to get away. Yeah, I followed you to be sure you were okay, but I didn’t plan to contact you so soon. I was prepared to watch you walk away because I thought that was the right thing to do. I thought that was the best way to protect you. It’s never been about fucking and forgetting you. You’re utterly unforgettable.”
“You’d really like to date me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard of staycations, but is this stay-dating?”
“I suppose so. If you don’t enjoy my company after our stay-at-home date, then I’ll back off. You can friend zone me or tell me to give you space. I’ll respect either.”
She kisses my cheek before cupping my cheek with the scar. Usually, I hate anyone touching it. It doesn’t hurt, and I’m not embarrassed by it. I just don’t like the reminder.
“What time are you picking me up for dinner, Luca?”
Chapter Four
Livy
I’m fucking certifiable, and so is he. He said he doesn’t want some Stockholm Syndrome woman falling for him. He hasn’t kidnapped me exactly, but this is like a forced proximity romance book. Except, there’s not just one room at the inn. There’s no winter blizzard forcing us to share a cabin in the woods. The hotel didn’t accidentally mix up our reservations. I’m staying at a mobster’s house because another group of mobsters tried to kill me.
Are we into each other because of convenience? We’re clearly attracted to each other. I think he’s exaggerating—by miles—how good looking I am, but he’s fucking fine. I’m certain he’s probably better than a porn star in bed. He radiates it. I think I’m a pretty good lay, if I do say so myself. Is that all this is about? We’re stuck here together, so we may as well fuck? It could be worse.
But I don’t want it to just be about sex. And that makes me fucking certifiable. Nothing can come of this. This is not grounds for a solid relationship. What happens when I don’t need him anymore? Does his protectiveness wear off, and he’s done? Do I realize I was using him just to survive?
I don’t have answers to these questions, and the shower I’m taking isn’t relaxing. I hoped it would be, but I’m not someone who can just stand under running water for ages. I’m a wash and go kinda girl, so I’m already done washing my hair and giving myself a good scrub. Maybe I thought I could wash away the memories of the dead bodies and of Arturo touching me. I can’t.
I hurry to towel dry my hair. I appreciate that someone grabbed my purse and my gym bag. I have clean clothes to put on. I wear little makeup most days, so what I have in that cosmetic bag is enough for me to feel presentable. Once I’m dressed, I make my way downstairs. I smell something divine, and my stomach rumbles. It’s midafternoon, and we missed lunch. It’s too early to call this a dinner date, but I’m excited.
As I walk into the kitchen, it shocks me to see Luca in jeans and a polo shirt. He was in a suit last night and one this morning. He looks just as hot in something casual, but it doesn’t look like comfy clothes you’d wear around the house. I’m in a pair of the jeans and the flowery shirt I grabbed. I feel under dressed, especially with the sneakers that were in my gym bag. He’s in what looks like designer Italian leather loafers.
But it surprises me even more to find him standing at the stove with two pots and a pan in front of him. I walk over to him, and I have this overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek against his back as I hug him. It would be the picture of domestic tranquility. He must be thinking something similar because he puts down the wooden spoon and turns to me, drawing me into his embrace.