Worship (Sinful Series Book 2)

by Trilina Pucci

  The man is fucking hot, and based on our last conversation, he’s tortured too.

  “What are you doing over here, hiding from the world?” Luca’s deep voice immediately catches my attention.

  “Oh god, am I that obvious? I just can’t hear Drew’s mom or dad ask me when I’m taking the plunge one more time, you know? Oh wait, no…you don’t.” I roll my eyes and laugh.

  He smiles tightly, looking down at his ring and back to me. Luca’s eyes are the most delicious shade of hazel. When he looks at me, I’m drawn in, hooked. Oh shit, like now. I avert my gaze, embarrassed, feeling as if I’ve looked into them for too long.

  “So, bring your boyfriend next time.”

  I growl playfully at his sarcasm. “What boyfriend? I think people will have a hard time accepting the blow-up dummy I have for my car rides. But I love Bob.” I shrug.

  “Bigots. Love is love.” He takes a swig of his drink, and I steal a glance at his lips.

  “That’s what I’m saying,” I agree dramatically, hoping to cover my eye assault of his mouth. He chuckles softly and then looks past me for a moment. I take the opportunity to look away again, focusing on the ice in my glass instead. I’m not flirting, am I?

  “How long have you been married?” I ask. Good, this is safe territory. But he doesn’t answer right away, so I look up to see his eyes falter, becoming cold, dark.

  “Happily?” he replies.

  Whoa… It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize the thought was said aloud. I steal another glance and see him lost in his thoughts. I stare at his profile, wondering what’s happened to him. He breathes out and takes another drink. There’s something about the sadness in his demeanor that has me answering honestly.

  “Yeah.”

  His head pivots to face me, locking his eyes to mine. “How do you gauge it when it’s a lie?”

  I’m thrown by his vulnerability. Every piece of me wants to comfort him. Help him. I’ve never been struck by someone’s sheer honesty. He’s so raw. And I get the feeling nobody sees this Luca. He’s always so easy, charming. I don’t want to move or breathe in fear that he’ll snap out of it.

  “What’s a lie?” My words are barely a whisper.

  “Love.” He tilts his head as I shake my head, brow furrowed.

  “Love isn’t a lie—people are liars. Find someone to tell you the truth and you’ll find your soul mate.” He seems to appraise what I’m saying, opening his mouth and then closing it again. “I believe that wholly and completely.”

  “Sometimes the reality is hard to recognize,” he counters, his body now turning toward mine, and I feel closed in by him. The idea isn’t at all terrible, but it feels naughty, like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. But we’re just talking.

  “No, it’s just hard to accept.” I swallow, this time keeping eye contact.

  He stares at me hard and takes his bottom lip between his teeth, searching my eyes as if he’s trying to figure me out. “I’m going to walk away.” I nod. “But Gretchen, here’s some advice for you. You’re the most beautiful woman in this room and by far the most interesting. You don’t need to be someone’s arm piece.” He winks at my surprised expression and walks away to join his brother.

  “Agreed,” I answer to his back. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling.

  I’m shaken from my wet daydream by Blair’s squeal. “Oh my god, that’s right!” They’re twins. I fucking forgot about that.”

  Blair pushes my shoulder, amazed at her rediscovery.

  “Ow. Easy, tiger,” I say, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s hot, I’m getting out.” I need air.

  Drew pats my shoulder. “Me too.”

  She follows me out, and we both stand for a moment outside the door. The cool air sweeps into my lungs, a welcomed reprieve from the heat we’ve been sitting in.

  “Your cheeks are so flushed. Good thing you got out when you did.” Drew remarks.

  There isn’t any hidden meaning or ribbing, but I’m sure my cheeks redden deeper knowing that I’m flushed because I have a slight crush on someone I shouldn’t.

  We leave the spa an hour later and all file into Blair’s Tesla, laughing and relaxed from our spa afternoon. Blair drops me and Drew first to Drew’s house, where I’ve left my car. Black SUV’s litter the curb, a sure sign the party is still in full swing. We exit the car and blow dramatic kisses to our friends as Blair drives away.

  “The guys must all still be here.” Drew rolls her eyes and shakes her head in fake dislike. She loves this.

  I back away from her, completely unwilling to navigate that crew. “Not it.” I turn to walk to my car.

  “Jerk,” she yells, walking up to her door.

  As soon as she opens it, I hear the deep voices inside call out to her, celebratory and drunk. It makes me giggle to myself. That’s a shitshow—seven drunk and severely hot Italian men in one room. Maybe I should go back.

  Walking the twenty feet to my car, I reach into my purse and rummage around for my keys, only to drop them on the ground as they slip through my fingers. “Shit,” I huff, squatting down to pick them up.

  “Decided not to stay, huh?” A bright red burn from the lit end of a cigar comes from the shadow on the steps in front of me.

  “Fuck!” I scream, scared by the unexpected voice, and fall flat onto my behind.

  A cloud of smoke catches the light, followed by the sound of singe, as he takes a draw on his cigar.

  Luca leans into the light looking amused with that fucking grin gracing his face. He’s like a fallen angel, a beautiful soul that could ruin me. He leans forward a bit more and offers me a hand and I take it, pulling forward to stand, brushing my jeans off, embarrassed.

  “Why are you creeping out here, psycho?”

  He laughs loudly and takes another puff of his cigar, raising an eyebrow at me and leaning back on his elbows against the stairs.

  “You’re welcome. I had a call.” He’s looking at the burning red cherry of his cigar, and I can’t help but ogle his broad chest.

  “Thank you,” I say, only half-contrite at my rudeness, mostly just trying to fill the silence. “Well, see ya.”

  I turn to my car and click the Unlock button.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asks in a rush.

  I grin at his Bob reference and turn back around.

  “Oh you know, he found someone more plastic he was into.” I shrug dramatically.

  “What a dick.”

  Did he just look me up and down?

  “I thought so.” I point behind me to my car as my goodbye.

  Luca puts the cigar out on the stone step and stands. Fucking gorgeous.

  His eyes stay trained on me, and I can’t help that a part of me likes it. I’m attracted to him, but I know my boundary.

  Plus, at this point, he could never live up to the dirty things he’s done in my dreams. Taking the steps slowly, he rubs his jaw that’s covered in a five-o’clock shadow.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about our conversation since the last time I saw you.”

  Me too. Almost daily.

  “Oh yeah, what about?” I step back, finding myself against my car.

  I’ve been moving backward as he’s stepped forward. My fingers begin fidgeting with my keys, my eyes flicking down to watch the clinking and hear the jingling sound they make as I move them around.

  His strong hand reaches out and covers mine, stilling the noise. My eyes shoot to his, uncomfortable and yet excited by his touch. He’s trouble, or just troubled. But either way, being this close to Luca King is very bad news.

  “Tell me something.” He asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth then slowly letting it go.

  I nod, drawn into his request and the slight smell of bourbon and cigars. My curiosity is getting the better of me.

  “If you sacrificed love for responsibility, would you forgive the other person for not doing the same? Or would you punish them?” His eyes are locked on mine.

&n
bsp; “Both,” I say without hesitation, swallowing hard.

  “But wouldn’t that make you a monster?” The look on his face is best described as fascination, like he expected a different answer.

  “Maybe. But the only difference between gods and monsters is intention. Is the punishment retribution or justice?”

  He looks down at his hand covering mine and lets go, bringing his gaze back to mine. “I haven’t decided.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step back.

  Suddenly I can breathe again. “Jesus, Luca…are you always this intense? I thought you were the easygoing brother.” I laugh, letting out a breath.

  His smirk is almost sinister. “Looks can be deceiving, Angel.” His head juts to my car, and he winks. “Go home, Gretchen. There are monsters out.”

  He takes a few steps backward, eyes on mine, then he turns, walking back toward the house. I want him to look back, but he doesn’t. I know because I watch him the whole damn way. Fuck me.

  MY LAPTOP ILLUMINATES THE LITTLE dreamer sound asleep on my chest. We’re both cuddled into my king-size bed. Ella’s cheek pressed against my skin leaves her tiny red-lipped pout agape, with her dark curls framing her peaceful face.

  I was sending emails when she woke crying, and this seemed to be the only solution. She didn’t care for my pacing or sitting; she just wanted to use me as her bed, and who am I to say no? The fact is, I’m worn-out from Dominic’s tonight, so hanging with my best girl seemed like a perfect idea.

  My phone dings next to me, and I reach for it, opening the message.

  Shelby: Leaving for the weekend. Need some time to clear my head.

  Amazing, she needs to clear her head. What a joke.

  Me: Don’t care.

  Shelby: Nice. You’re not even going to ask where I’m going?

  Me: I assumed hell…figured you wanted to be around your own kind.

  Shelby: Fuck you. I’ll be in Miami.

  Me: Same difference.

  My jaw is tense as I toss the phone back to the soft mattress, exhaling harshly. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.

  Ella’s nanny peeks her head in as she knocks on my door, interrupting my thoughts. “Can I take her off your hands?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m being held hostage by a six-month-old,” I joke.

  Rose enters my bedroom and lifts her off me, slowly rocking Ella as she carries my daughter out. Her timing is outstanding because my phone begins to ring just as she closes the door behind them.

  “Shelby,” I answer curtly. Here we go.

  “I don’t want to fight with you.” Her voice makes me sick.

  Everything about her is a lie, including that statement. She’s prepared to do whatever she has to do to get what she wants.

  “No, you’re worried I’ll cancel your credit cards.”

  She huffs her discontent, and I sit up in my bed, delighted by her contempt for me.

  “Luca, can we just call a truce? It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  Yes, it does.

  “I gave you the keys to the kingdom because you had a winning lottery ticket. And you bit the hand that fed you. Blow jobs can’t help you now. Plus, your mouth is a sketchy place.”

  “I would prefer not to have my face rubbed in it,” she bites back, clearly irritated at my reference to her infidelity.

  “That’s not what it looked like, love.”

  “Jesus, as if you were faithful or committed to me at all. I’m just some whore that you got knocked up, Luca!”

  I never judged Shelby for how we met at Church; those insecurities are hers to own. But I won’t reassure her either, now. And with how angry I am, I may just exploit them.

  “I upheld our vows, Shelby. Loyalty isn’t something I’ve struggled with over the last year.” My voice is condescending.

  The silence on the phone has me wishing she’d feel some kind of remorse. Yeah, I’d like to see her carry her shame for a while.

  “Luca, I swear I didn’t know. I always assumed. Be real—it never felt like you loved me. You’ve never even said it.”

  My jaw twitches. I gave her more than I’ve ever been given. I want her to feel what being made a fool of truly feels like. I want to rub her face in it.

  “You’re right. I don’t love you. How could I? I was obligated because the fucking condom broke. But you asked me to try. You begged me to try. And that was my fucking gift, Shelby.” My words are like tiny little cuts slashing at her thick skin.

  “How was I supposed to know, Luca?”

  “You know the man I am. You know where I come from. You know who my family is. You of all people know the kind of code I live by. Maybe that’s why you sought me out.” Shelby was a regular at Church and has quite a taste for men with more “flexible” morals.

  Her fake cries jumble her words.

  “I said I was sorry. I was scared and pregnant, and you have everything. I had nothing. What the fuck did you expect?”

  “Poor little beggar. If I knew you were so comfortable on your knees, I would’ve kept you there.”

  The tears stop. Full fucking stop. The corners of my mouth pull upward, validated that she’s one big goddamn lie.

  “Go fuck yourself. Tell me how to make this shit end. What do you expect from me now, Luca?”

  “I expected the same thing you asked of me. You took from me, and now you have to pay it all back.” I sneer.

  “What the fuck does that mean? I haven’t taken anything from you.” She replies indignantly.

  “You took my kindness. My money. My trust. And my belief that not everything is a lie. But I should thank you for that one. You did me a favor.” My voice is as deadly as I am.

  “Jesus, how did this all become so twisted and fucked-up?” she says to herself, but I can’t help but answer.

  “Well, if I had to pinpoint one moment, I would say calling the lawyers while I was on my deathbed…or then there’s my personal favorite: sucking off the mechanic in my garage.”

  “Luca. Please.”

  Not so fast, Shelby. “Save your begging, wife. We’re just getting started.”

  The line dies because she’s hung up on me. But I don’t care. This is her ‘just desserts’. Shelby’s a liar and an opportunist. And I fucking hate that combination. She’ll pay for this, for as long as I choose.

  “Is it retribution or justice?” Gretchen’s words roll around in my mind. If I were to answer her now, I would say that I won’t feel any justice until I have retribution.

  Shelby isn’t the first person to cross me; she’s just the one to make me feel the most foolish. My entire life has been a series of lies.

  As a child I believed my parents were invincible, and then they were killed. As a teenager I believed my uncle would protect us; instead he used me and Dom, creating a killer out of my brother and showing me the evils behind the curtain. As an adult I lie to myself and pretend that my fucked-up life isn’t the sum of all my mistakes, that life isn’t some meaningless place where people just take.

  I’d hoped.

  But the world is the same. People are liars. Ella is my only gift.

  I feel undone, unsettled. The jabs taken at Shelby haven’t helped to alleviate my anger. I need a distraction, something to take the damn edge off. If I can’t beat my problem to death, then I’ll hit a punching bag until I can’t stand.

  I set my phone on the nightstand and grab the gray sweats lying on a chair. Pulling them on, I sit down on the edge of the bed to lace up my sneakers, foregoing a shirt because it’s just going to get sweaty anyway. I head out of my room and down the hallway to the stairs, descending two at a time, taking me down to the main floor of my home.

  This house was the first gift I gave Ella. I bought it because I could picture her growing up in this idyllic bricked townhouse, with a backyard garden that would be perfect for tea parties, fairy wings, and childhood dreams. I want magic for her life. I’d hoped to give her something better than I had; I’d hoped to give her a fami
ly.

  The empty wish fills me with sorrow, and that sorrow fills me with rage. Rage is a dangerous place to exist when you’re at constant war with good and evil.

  I burst through the gym doors and practically sprint toward the heavy bag, not bothering with gloves or tape. I throw my first punch, launching the bag backward.

  I fucking hate Shelby.

  I punch and punch, groaning and cursing at the sack of sand, voicing my hatred and fears. My muscles strain and ripple from use as the sweat builds on my forehead.

  I hate that I fell into a one-night distraction.

  The sound from the bag echoes through the empty gym space. My fists collide with the bag again, harder and more vicious. I’m swinging at a fevered pace, connecting with more force each time. My lungs burn from my small breaths between the shots I take.

  I fucking hate that she was able to get the better of me. To exploit my weakness.

  My arms falter, and I grab the bag, my legs weak under me. I’m exhausted, and my breaths are now coming out heavy and weary. The taste of salt meets my lips from the sweat running down from my brow.

  All my emotions mix with the fatigue I feel, and I slump into the bag. My sweaty forehead falls against the leather bag. I don’t regret Ella, but I would give anything if she weren’t a part of Shelby. It would all be so easy if I could just… My thought ignites my rage again. Pushing the bag away, I start again until I begin to tire once more.

  My body is the only piece of me that wants to stop, because the war inside my head is going strong. So I force myself to keep going, again and again, for hours until my arms won’t move, but even then, I still try and swing, unable to rid myself of my hatred and regret, letting out a roar and dropping to my knees.

  My head bows down between my shoulders, and I stay like that, sweaty and defeated.

  “Luca.” George’s voice is quiet, cautious. I didn’t hear him come in, but then how would I through the rage ringing in my ears.

  “Leave,” I growl out.

  “Luca, I’m not leaving you. What are you doing to yourself?” His voice is compassionate.