by Sadie Black
"Oh don't get all high and mighty with me son. All politicians are criminals — the smart ones just don't get caught. The boys chased out the bad blood that had been festering in this place when I stepped into power, and when I stepped down, they stepped down, too. Easy as that. And now we're all on good terms, and I know they'd be eager to help a Belmonte into power again."
The same guys who let Gino take the fall so he could rot in jail while they walked free. Luka's stomach turned. There was no way he was going to be stooping that low to win an election. He'd earn back respect on his own, spend every dollar he had on improving his public image and show his father wrong. The race could still be won without the intervention of a crime ring.
"Forget it. You know me about as well as I know you these days — I'd never resort to something that low. You keep your scumbags away from me and let me win this my way. Thanks for nothing."
The wooden chair scraped across the floor as Luka pushed away from the desk. Incensed and disgusted, he stood.
"You better take some time and sit with it for a bit. If you thought politics was all about idealism and integrity, then I've got news for ya: you ain't running for class president. If you want to stick to your principles and wipe your ass on our family name, then I can't stop you. But, if you change your mind, and you want to put on your big boy pants and fix this mistake, a mistake you made, then you know where to find me," Marcello said with a little shrug. He settled back in his office chair, weaving his fingers together and setting his hands on his stomach.
"Right." It was all he could say without threatening to explode. The energy from that anger would be better invested in planning his comeback. Luka wasn't sunk just yet, no matter what his father had to say. Hard work would pay off in the end.
And after working hard, he'd play hard. Tonight he'd drown his thoughts by pouring everything he had into making Ciara his own. By the end of the night, she would be his.
* * *
Ciara
It wasn't a date.
Sure, she was going to dinner with him. Yes, he was picking her up. But Ciara refused to consider it anything more than a wise career decision. Rubbing elbows with Manhattan's elite would only do her good. This dinner could open the door to her future, and she wouldn't gimp herself just because he was a cold, and possibly crazed guy. Besides, the dinner would be excellent for her exposé — really, there was no way she could turn him down.
And, if she was going to be out with a man of influence, she was going to look damned good doing it.
The dress she'd selected was an old favorite for when Ciara wanted something classy and fun. The dress was a cream color, cinched at the waist with a thick, black silk band. Hugging her tall, slender form Ciara thought the dress looked vintage Hollywood.
Should she turn up in any papers, she knew she would look glamorous.
With a long gray overcoat to ward off the chilly November air, Ciara left her small off-island apartment to return to Manhattan. There was a mayoral candidate to wine and dine with, and she couldn't be late.
The campaign headquarters were closed when she arrived, and so Ciara loitered outside of the elevator. After such a long day after so little sleep, the staffers must be exhausted. Their dedication to the campaign was similar to her passion for journalism. If she wasn't already so vested in the written word, campaigning might have been her calling. The people seemed friendly enough, and the job just the right balance between stressful and relaxed that the days would fly by.
Ciara's thoughts of an alternate life distracted her from the elevator doors opening. Only when Luka placed a hand on her shoulder, Ciara startled from her fantasies.
"Thanks for waiting," Luka said. Since she'd last seen him, he'd cleaned himself up. The shadow of stubble across his jaw and lips had been shaved, exposing olive skin that looked soft to the touch. He'd changed from last night's suit, smart black pants paired with a white dress shirt beneath the same jacket she'd spilled coffee on.
The memory of how charming he'd been that day shook up a couple of dormant butterflies in her belly. After his antics last night, and his public humiliation of the poor man who'd made the unwise choice, those butterflies had all but died. It was for the best that she'd seen his true colors so early on. Now she wouldn't allow her judgment to be swayed by Luka's infamous charms.
"I haven't been waiting that long."
For all of Luka's flaws, tardiness wasn't one of them. From what she could tell, he was a punctual individual. With any luck he wouldn't keep her exposé waiting — if she were lucky, she might get a few incriminating shots tonight to start it off right.
"The distant expression on your face made me think otherwise. I'm glad I didn't blow tonight, too. Two consecutive failures would be more than I could take."
The hand didn't drop, guiding her with gentle insistence back towards the elevator. Ciara allowed him to do so, tucking her hands into her pockets. Although the office was heated, a chill had crept into her bones at the feel of his warmth in such close proximity. Luka may have been slender, but there was a facet to his personality that loomed larger than life.
"Are you cold?" the simple question was packed with concern. Without waiting for a response, the hand at Ciara's shoulder dropped away, and Luka drew her against his side instead.
"Is New York always this cold?" Ciara asked simply to make conversation. Iowa had been cold, too. Whatever chill had gnawed its way through her bones wasn't from the temperature.
"Gets colder come December and February. I suppose it's a little nippier than it usually is at this time of year, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. I think next week's supposed to warm up."
The only way Ciara was going to warm up was by escaping his touch. When the elevator doors opened, she made a point of entering ahead of him, untucking herself from his control. Luka was a rotten guy, but something about him drew her in like a mosquito to a bug zapper — if she got too close, Ciara knew she'd suffer for it.
"Good to know."
Luka stood a short distance from her as she pushed the button to take them to the lobby, and then they were off. A black town car with tinted windows waited for them just outside the office. Luka opened the back door, helping her into the car before rounding the vehicle to enter the other side. When he settled on the bench, the driver pulled away from the curb to seamlessly meld into traffic.
New York, dazzling lights and buildings new and old, bled into one through her window. Luka entertained her with inconsequential conversation as skyscrapers gave way to smaller, quaint buildings. Houses lined the streets, peppered sporadically with upscale boutiques and trendy restaurants, one of which the car stopped in front of. The last time Ciara had gone to an upscale dinner, the evening ended in disaster. With Luka, she wasn't so sure it wouldn't happen again.
Giorgiani's was a renovated two story house, with a fenced in patio lit up with strings of warm white lights. Luka exited the town car and opened the door for Ciara, offering her a hand to help her out. Between the vehicle she stepped out of and the romantic feel of the restaurant, Ciara wondered if she wasn't dreaming. A scene like this was the stuff movies were made out of. Yet here she was, a simple girl from Iowa already living the life most only dreamed of after a week in the big city.
"I've got a reservation," Luka told her as he helped her from the car. "This is the finest Italian establishment in the city, and I had to pull some strings to get us in. This is a treat many people don't get to experience."
If his words hadn't dripped with sincerity, Ciara would've found them patronizing, but Luka chased a smile out of her regardless. Even the cruelest people had to be nice at times. The man she'd spilled coffee on was back, but this time she wasn't falling for it.
"I look forward to it."
Side by side they left the sidewalk and made tracks down the path leading to the door. The patio stretched to their left and right, and Ciara noticed that it was heated. Although the winter would likely chase diners inside, November hadn't
killed the thrill of eating outdoors. Men and women wrapped in their coats ate and chatted, each table full. Despite how content each pairing looked, Ciara hoped Luka had secured a table inside.
She was in luck.
The hostess saw them to a small table on a raised section on the first floor, and soon an oil dip and a bread basket arrived. Luka snatched the wine menu from the table before Ciara had a chance to look and ordered a bottle. He guarded the menu jealously to prevent Ciara from glimpsing the price, but she felt as though his selection was expensive. From what she saw of the main menu, nothing at Giorgiani's was anything but.
"Luka," she mumbled as the waiter went to tend to their wine, "I can't afford any of this."
"Please, tonight is my treat. Mrs. Olsen told me today you've signed on as a volunteer for the campaign — how could I let you pay when you're giving your time to me so generously?"
It was sounding more and more like a date, and Ciara shifted uneasily on her chair. Should she clarify her intentions now before she led him too far astray? Or would it be better to shoot him down later? Before she could make a decision, their waiter returned with their wine and asked for their orders as he poured it.
Later it would be. Ciara placed her order, and Luka followed her request with his. When the waiter left their table, Luka turned his attention to her once more.
"I'm not stupid, you know." He folded his hands upon his lap, gaze docile and yet words loaded. Some of the easiness had slipped from his face to reveal the intense, frightening man Ciara had seen before. Even as a playboy, there was a serious side to Luka that she didn't want to meddle with.
"What do you mean by that?" Ciara approached the topic gingerly, running the tip of her tongue across the back of her full lip from nerves. Beyond Luka's pretty boy surface there lurked a beast, and she wasn't sure whether or not he saw her as prey.
"You're from Iowa. I looked at your application after you left the office. I know the east coast is cold, but not any colder than the mid west. All of this pulling away from me — you're not cold, you just don't want to be seen with an idiot. You're embarrassed to be seen with me after what happened with Breece, and that you're trying to be nice about it."
Another awkward dinner date. Was it a curse? Ciara set her jaw and locked eyes with him, attempting to rise above her emotions. Luka was her livelihood, and she wasn't willing to back down and lose her footing on his story. It would take more than a little awkward to destroy her dreams.
"You're not stupid, I doubt anyone thinks that," Ciara replied. "I happen to think that the writers on Ryan Breece's show did their research, and they knew how to exploit your vulnerabilities. Just like your campaign is all about the vote, their show is all about the viewer. They used you to boost their ratings, it could've happened to anyone. It just happens that they hit a nerve with you."
Luka's lips thinned as he considered her words, as the message took hold, he finally nodded.
"It's nice to know I have at least one ally in all of this. I know I lost a lot of respect out there, and we spent all day today organizing my comeback, but it's gonna be a tough battle. Knowing that you see past that stunt is reassuring."
As harsh as Luka could be, Ciara glimpsed his soft underside as he spoke. Emotions rang true in each sentence, regret, determination, and vulnerability. The coping mechanisms Luka depended upon were faulty, unhealthy even, but could she blame him for reacting when he was embarrassed on national television? Ciara's wavering stance was driving her insane. Luka was impossible to pin down, and she wanted to know what made him tick. She needed to know, and not just for her story.
As they continued to talk, Ciara's grasp on journalistic integrity began to waver. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Luka awoke feelings inside of her that made it hard to stay neutral. By the end of the night, Ciara was no further in her story, but rather found herself having a good time. Brash as he could be, Luka was also charming, and entertaining. When she asked for it, he gave her his honest opinion and solid advice, and as far as Ciara could tell, he had a good head on his shoulders. Ryan Breece really had brought out the worst in him.
Luka had the leather bound receipt book hand delivered to him, and slipped a card into the top. Ciara didn't see a number, but she knew it had to be the most expensive dinner she'd ever eaten. To Luka, the expense was clearly nothing.
"I'd like to drive you home," he said. A text message fired off at the table had directed the driver of the town car to meet them outside, and the vehicle idled in front of the building. "It's getting late, and I want the peace of mind of knowing you get back safe."
"I live off island. "It's definitely out of your way. If you dropped me off at the train station it would be kind enough."
But Luka shook his head. A firm jerk of the car's back handle opened the passenger side door, and he waited for her to get settled inside.
"It's fine. I'll just need to make a stop at the office first to pick up some documents. You're welcome to come along and see what's behind the mysterious locked door." Luka raised his brows and wiggled his fingers to insinuate magic and humor, but it was exactly the chance Ciara had been waiting for.
"Yeah, sure." Playing it cool was hard when she was looking at landing such a promising lead so soon into her exposé. "That's one part of the office I didn't get to explore."
"It's not much to look at," Luka said with a shrug. "But it's home to some of the campaign's more confidential information, so we don't let just anybody in. But I know I can trust you."
If only he knew. A quick word to the driver was had, and they were off. The drive back felt quicker than their drive to the restaurant. Before she knew it, Ciara found herself looking up at the face of their campaign headquarters. Luka unlocked the front door with a set of keys and held it open for her.
"After you," he insisted with a polite bow of his head. Ciara smiled and entered, her heels clicking against the polished marble. The space was shadowed in eerie silence.
"You know," he said as the elevator doors closed behind them and they began the smooth ascent to the fifth floor, "I never properly complimented you tonight. You look fantastic. The city fits you, Ciara; you shine with it."
The compliment was spoken easily, and she knew he wasn't saying it just to be nice. Side by side they stood, and although they didn't touch, a shiver ran down Ciara's spine, but this time it wasn't from a chill.
"I'm glad to be here," she said. The air in the cabin felt thick and hot, Ciara considered undoing the buttons of her overcoat. "It's been a dream of mine, to come out to New York City to do something great. Now here I am."
The doors opened, and Luka led her into the locked office. The doors at the back awaited exploration, but Ciara didn't feel excited about the discoveries to be made. Instead, her sole focus was how close Luka stood to her and the way his aftershave smelled. What was wrong with her?
"My father always told me, that if you chase your dreams, even if you never catch up, the territory you cross over is invaluable."
The lock on the office door clicked, and the door swung open. Ciara gazed into the darkness, cheeks burning, unable to bring herself to look at Luka. A quickening of her pulse left her feeling bleary, she couldn't trust herself. Not now. Not with the deep timbre of Luka's voice in her ears. Not with the scent of his aftershave rattling her objectivity.
"Your father's a wise man," Ciara replied. Moonlight streamed into the room through two wide windows, allowing her to make out the outline of a desk and several chairs. A white board hung on the left hand wall, but she couldn't see what was written on it.
"So, what do you think I should do," Luka murmured, "when my dream is so close, I could reach out and touch it?"
"You've got to go for it, or you'll always regret that you never tried."
Ciara had a feeling they weren't talking politics anymore. A slow turn of her head brought her eye to eye with Luka, who'd taken a step to close the distance between them. One of his hands grasped her shoulder, but it wasn't his
touch that left Ciara speechless; Luka's gaze bored into her even through the dark, dominant and hungry. The beast had come out again, but this time, Ciara knew she wasn't its prey — Luka had other plans for her.
His hand pushed her backward until her back hit the wall, his free hand cushioning her head. Ciara gasped, but the sound was stolen from her — Luka's lips locked over hers, and in that moment she forgot how to breathe. Goosebumps rose along the skin of her shoulders, blissfully hidden by her overcoat. The contents of Luka's desk and any other incriminating artifacts to be found in the office didn't matter. Not when his body was pressed against her as it was.
There was no doubt in Luka’s touch as he urged the kiss onward. The length of his tongue snaked into her mouth, and only when Ciara's tongue rose to meet it did he allow it to possess her mouth in full. Each caress dominated, each touch assertive, and for the first time in her life, Ciara felt as though she were being romanced by a man and not a boy.
A gentle roll of his hips pressed his body to hers, and Ciara felt the stirrings of his erection against her abdomen. His kiss did not relent, and she returned its passion willingly. It was only when Luka rolled his hips against her again that Ciara realized that he wouldn't stop unless she told him to. Tonight, his dream was to take her like any of the party girls, and as much as the longing in her gut told her to let him, she had more respect for herself then that. As attractive and attentive as he was, she wasn't going to let a man so explosive claim her body.
"No," she whispered against his lips, raising a hand to push against his chest. Raw instinct begged her to reconsider, to let Luka push her over the desk, but she fought against it. "That's not what I want. You're not what I want. Not like this."
The spell between them was broken. Luka jerked back, eyes ablaze, and for as flustered as Ciara felt, she was glad she'd had him stop. An unpredictable man like him wasn't one she wanted to get involved with.
