by Lux Miller
Luca growls as I fasten his tie. “I don’t do...good. I am not a good man, but I’ll behave myself as long as every man there knows that you are not available, and that this dress is not an advertisement.”
I giggle and shake my head. “Luca, this dress is the most covered I’ve been in any of Royce’s creations. Besides, you can’t stop people from looking. Isn’t that why you pay Royce top dollar, anyway? To parade me around like a well-dressed trophy?”
His eyes narrow at me as he lowers his lips to my ear. “As long as it’s only their eyes appreciating your beauty, then I’ll let them live.”
Shuddering, I cut my eyes up at him. It’s impossible to tell if he’s joking, but his tone of voice tells me he’s not. I pat his chest, then drop my hands to tuck in his shirt. “You will not be killing anyone on my behalf, do you understand me?”
Luca’s face flinches at the demand in my voice, and he avoids my gaze. I don’t back down, stepping up on my tiptoes so that I’m closer to his eye level. I brush my hand along his chiseled jaw and turn his face so that he has no choice but to look at me. “I mean it Luca… nobody dies because of me. I am not worth a man’s life.”
Luca face is stone still as he focuses on me, making eye contact with me that makes me shiver from head to toe. “You are mine and I am yours, Emily. If anybody threatens that, I cannot promise that I’ll be able to keep my inner beast caged. I’ll defend what’s mine… at any cost.”
I can feel the warmth pooling in my belly and rising though my body from there, and it has gotten suddenly warm in the room. I’m not itching to jump his bones, but I do long to kiss him. I’m scared I’ll mess up my makeup until I hear Royce’s cheerful voice from the hallway, “Words, words, words… Come on lovebirds. Time is ticking. Suck face already. The lipstick’s waterproof… won’t even come off on his, well… let’s just say that after the two of you party the night away like true New Orleanians, your lipstick will still be perfect.”
Luca grunts at the interruption, but he doesn’t hesitate to follow Royce’s advice, sealing his lips over mine in a possessive kiss that makes my knees weak. By the time he pulls away, my cheeks are flushed, and I’m grateful that Royce didn’t make me wear panties. Anything between my legs wouldn’t stay dry for long.
Luca smirks at my rosy cheeks and grabs his jacket off the bed, pulling it on over the gold shirt. He looks like a debonair man on a mission. He bows before me with a grand sweeping gesture of his hand and takes mine, gently tugging me out of the room.
Royce gives Luca a nod of reverence and me a wink as he hands me a pair of gold heels that I strap to my ankles. They lift me off the floor by a good three inches, and I’m thankful that Royce didn’t try to make me wear neck-breakers tonight. He’s had me in six inch heels before, and I simply don’t have the grace to stay upright for long in them.
With the long night ahead of us, at least Royce is thinking ahead and ensuring I’ll still be able to walk tomorrow. Judging by the way Luca’s eyeing me, if he has his way, it won’t matter, because I don’t think he intends to let me out of his bed once he gets me there.
He’s quiet on the drive downtown, but I know that just means the gears in his head are grinding. I nudge him gently as the car pulls to a stop. “Luca, are you okay?”
He blinks as his attention snaps to me. He puts an easy smile on his face and nods. “Yes, I’m fine. Just getting some last minute business sorted in my head.”
I frown at him as I pull my mask back down over my face to hide my identity -- for as long as I can anyway. “You said tonight was about relaxing and enjoying the city while it celebrates. You promised no business affairs tonight…” I tilt my head to the side and add with a smirk, “...for either business.”
I jut my chin out at him pointedly, and he actually chuckles, holding both hands up in front of him. “As long as no emergencies happen, you have my word that there will be no business conducted.” He grabs my hands in his and brings them up to his mouth, kissing them one after the other. “What man in his right mind would worry himself with things that can wait when he’s the company of an ethereal beauty?”
Despite his habit of complimenting me, it still makes my cheeks burn when he says things like that. I don’t know what ‘Guide to Being Suave’ he’s been reading, but he has flattery down to an art. Granted, he’s probably used to spouting lines to get women to sleep with him.
Before we got together, just in the few weeks I was there, he had a revolving door of women waiting to jump into bed with him, so he must have been doing something right. He might be the kind of guy your mama warned you about, but he’s also bordering on giving Adonis a run for his money.
I’m happy not to share. Never was very good at sharing, and I’m not about to start now. Luca swings his legs out of the backseat of the car and stands, turning back to me to offer his hand. I take it like the proper lady he wants everyone to think I am. Royce has worked hard to make this former bottom-dwelling urchin into a respectable young lady.
Luca tugs on my hand gently, and I stand gracefully out of the backseat, inhaling a sharp breath that reeks of beer, weed, and sex. This may be the classy part of New Orleans where balconies rent out for thousands for the parades, but some things like the permanent eau du New Orleans never change.
People are here to have fun. While they’d never admit it, oftentimes the NOPD looks the other way when the people indulge on the lighter side of life. With the number of people that descend on New Orleans every year, minor substance abuse isn’t high on their list of priorities.
The biggest problem the authorities will face is going to be the prostitution that hides in plain sight, and while most people would miss the tell-tale signs, I’ve been raised in the culture. I can see at least three women at this very moment that are offering their services without saying a single word.
Luca tugs a black and gold mask down over his face, and though it hides his identity, women are still openly staring. He slides his hand onto my shoulder and trails his fingertips down the exposed skin of my arm slowly until his hand reaches mine. He threads his fingers through mine and murmurs, “I’ve never done Mardi Gras from the streets, so if we’re staying down here, you’re going to have to help me avoid any major faux pas.”
I glance up at him, a smirk tugging up the corners of my mouth. “Where else would we watch the parade from if not down here among the common folk of your kingdom?”
Luca snorts and motions above my head. “From the exclusive seven-hundred-and-fifty dollar a person balcony over your head.” My eyes travel up above my head, and I gasp as I realize that the view from up there must be phenomenal. While it isn’t completely exclusive, there’s a dozen people milling about the enormous balcony while down here on the ground, there’s hundreds.
“Well, that settles it,” Luca murmurs as I finally pull my eyes away from the luxury above our heads that I’ve never even dreamed of indulging in. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd, entering the smallest and most hidden door I’ve ever seen.
We get two steps inside the dimly lit building when a gruff voice halts me in my tracks. Luca doesn’t stop moving though, and he approaches the enormous man without fear. I can’t glue my feet to the ground since Luca has a hold of my hand, but I keep as far back from the intimidating man as I can manage.
“Hold up there, Romeo,” booms the man as he steps into our path. “This balcony’s cash only. And we don’t want no trouble.”
Luca nods, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out a wad of cash and pushes it into the man’s outstretched hand. “How about Franklin and forty-nine of his closest buddies speak on my behalf? And I would request that this balcony now be closed. I don’t mind the people that are already up there. If they can afford it, they can stay. You keep this a private party, and I’ll double it at the close of the night.”
The man looks down at the rolled bills that fill his massive hand. He narrows his eyes at Luca, then cuts them at me. I can feel his scrutiny as
he looks me up and down, and it sends a shiver down my spine to think that this man just checked me out in Luca’s presence. He clears his throat and comments, “We don’t allow no hanky-panky or beading here.”
Luca grips my hand tightly, but he surprisingly keeps his voice even-keeled. I don’t blame the hired thug for his comments. It’s well-known that affluent Mardi Gras goers like to sneak up onto balconies and fuck during parades because it’s more private than on the streets below. Not that the audience stops most of them anyway.
“I will double it now if you take your prying eyes off my girlfriend and restrict access to this balcony for the night. If you do as I ask… this will cash just fine in the morning.”
The man’s eyes snap back to Luca and he nods. Luca whips out his checkbook and scribbles a check out, then hands it to the man, who promptly hands the cash back to Luca, his eyes wide. He nods again and quickly moves out of the way, pushing the stair access door open. “Yes, sir.”
Luca smiles and offers his hand to me, “Come, milady. Our evening awaits.” He turns back to the man and adds, “The only people who are to be allowed access will know the phrase ‘il lupo attende’.”
I take his hand, and he pulls me up the stairs, chuckling as we step onto the balcony where a cool breeze blows through my hair. I sigh and shake my head. “What changed his attitude so fast?”
Luca shrugs, avoiding the question. “Maybe he realized who he was dealing with?”
I lean my elbows onto the railing of the balcony, and he presses against me from behind, caging me against the balcony by putting his hands on either side of me on the railing. He leans down and plants a trail of kisses along the back of my neck.
“Luca, how many zeroes were on that check?”
He shrugs and sighs softly into my ear, “Enough to make you want to hit me. I can afford it, Emily. Let me spoil you.”
I let my eyes snap shut as he nibbles along my ear, but nod. “I’m sure your name being at the top of that check had nothing to do with it. You may be scary, but your name strikes fear in the heart of every living thing in New Orleans. Even the rats don’t dare mess with you.”
He chuckles as a necklace lands at our feet. He squats down behind me and picks it up before laughing out loud. “What the hell? A necklace full of dicks? Why would anybody want a necklace with dicks on it?”
I can’t help but giggle as I turn around to face him. He’s dropped the strand of offensive beads around his neck, and it’s taking everything in me not to straight up dissolve into a fit of laughter. “Luca, take those off…”
He shakes his head. “I like them. Why should I take them off?”
Sighing, I admonish him, “Because they threw them at me. It’s a crude way of suggesting ...things… it’s common on the streets. A man will give a pair of these to someone they want to suck their dick. If the target accepts the beads, then they’re agreeing to the act. It’s kind of an unspoken language of Mardi Gras.”
Luca grunts and whips them off over his head. He’s about to lob them over the balcony when he gets a glint in his eyes. Even though the top half of his face is obscured by his mask, I still understand the desire that flickers in his eyes. He smirks and drops the strand of beads around my neck.
I gasp, “Luca!”
He shrugs, “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You certainly don’t have to, but it’s a mental picture that’s invading my headspace right now. If not now, definitely later when I have you alone. I’m not going to lie… all I can picture right now is you on your knees with those gorgeous lips wrapped around my dick.”
My eyes flutter closed as he presses himself against me. The railing of the balcony bites into my back as his dark stare makes me shiver. I nod, chewing on my bottom lip slightly as I pull the strand of beads off and drop them into one of his hands. “So let’s make a deal… if you can refrain from spending any more money tonight, then I’ll wear these beads for everyone to see and fulfill the promise that comes with accepting them...”
THIRTEEN
As the first float of the night rolls past us, our small balcony is bombarded by trinkets that clank on the wrought iron as they sail over our heads. Though we aren’t the only people to have purchased tickets to be on the balcony, by the time the parade reaches us, we’re the only ones still here. Apparently, when a man rents out a balcony with a check that has more zeroes on it than most people’s bank accounts, it makes people nervous.
Despite the illusion of privacy, Luca hasn’t broken contact with me the entire time we’ve been up here. Sometimes his hand is on my hip, sometimes it’s on my arm, and other times his entire body is pressed against me. No matter what’s happening around us, he’s touching me at all times.
Hot on the heels of the float is the flashy sparkle of sequins and glitter as a high school dance team prances by, hands twirling through the air as knee-high boots stomp the pavement. As a teen, the dance squads were always my favorite.
Sure, the floats are enormous and boisterously loud, and at any given time, a dozen trinkets are flying off to spectators. But I was enamored with the dance teams, because I was jealous of them. I never got to go to high school. Truth be told, I’ve never been in a formal school setting at all.
In Hawaii, there was no such thing as formal education for the native children. Sure, there were public schools, but they were overcrowded and underfunded, so the children in my neighborhood were educated by the village. We’d spend our mornings surfing until the swells died out, then we’d gather on the sand and practice our math and letters with whichever parent wasn’t busy with the harvest or tending to the animals.
When most people think of Hawaii, they picture the white sand beaches of Waikiki and the towering high rises of Honolulu. The reality for me on the Big Island was far from glamorous. My mother’s family were farmers and artisans. Following my morning surf and my afternoon lessons, I’d help out in the fields with harvesting macadamia nuts, which are my favorite to this day. Once the sun went down, we’d gather together and share the dance of our ancestors including Hula Kahiko and the Tahitian Ori. It’s where my love of dance began.
Most of the kids I grew up with likely ended up in the public high school as their needs surpassed the education of their own parents, but I never had that chance. When the cancer took my mom, my dad couldn’t bear to stay in the village where my mom died, so he packed us up and moved us back to his native New Orleans.
He never bothered to declare my existence once we arrived in the land of Voodoo, and I never went to school, instead learning from library books that he’d bring home to me. He worked at night, and he kept the lights on, but he never told me where the money came from. On the night he died, he hid me in the cabinets and told me to stay silent, no matter what happened.
I went straight from the two-room apartment on the outskirts of the French Quarter to living in Andre’s club. The beautiful costumes of the high school dancers represent a stage of life that I always regretted not getting to experience, and I find myself lost in thought as they sashay by, my gaze following them as they march down Saint Charles street.
I’m so lost in thought that I’m almost smacked in the face by a Frisbee that whizzes by my ear as Luca hip-bumps me aside. It bounces off him, wobbling to a stop at our feet. I blush softly and chuckle, shaking my head. I motion weakly to the street. “Sorry, Luca… was caught up in watching the gorgeousness in front of me.”
Luca grins and twists his body to press his lips against my neck, being careful not to disturb our masks. He trails his lips along my neck, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Luca lowers his voice, despite nobody being around us and whispers, “Trust me, I completely understand. I’m a bit mesmerized myself at the enchanting beauty that’s got me completely awestruck.”
I turn to face him and look up, giving him a small smile. “You’ve really amped up the flattery lately. I’d argue that love looks good on you. Softens your sharp edges a bit without losing them.”
Luca nods as
he twists a finger into one of the curls that dangles beside my face. He’s staring at my lips like he wants nothing more than to kiss me, but as he leans in to do so, he jumps back from me with a grunt. He chuckles softly, then muses, “Apparently kissing during a parade is dangerous.”
I giggle softly as he holds up a strand of deluxe beads in bright, alternating shades of green, purple, and gold. Every few beads is a tiny, naked, plastic baby. I tap one of the babies and smile, then take the strand from him. “These are good luck.”
I smile and gently drop the beads around his neck, shifting them so that the babies sit upright and stare out from his chest. Luca shakes his head with a smile. “How do you know all this stuff? I’ve lived in New Orleans my entire life, and I don’t know any of this.”
Shrugging, I turn my gaze back to the parade route and smile dreamily as a high school band marches by, the well-rehearsed music swelling up around the crowd and drowning out my racing thoughts. Going to a Mardi Gras parade with my boyfriend should be a mundane affair, not an event to set socialite tongues wagging.
