Lucca's Lust: The Luminara Series Book 3

by SJ Molloy

  “Yes, I know and I am happy for you. I have only ever wanted you to be happy, and if this woman gives you that, then you have my blessing. I respect you for being honest with me.” She seems to have switched ever so quickly from being vulnerable to being assertive and convincing.

  A tug of empathy pulls inside me, and my heart constricts. She is giving me her blessing, even though this must be cutting her to fucking pieces and she is already wounded enough. I pinch my eyes closed, rub my temple trying to stave off an impending headache.

  “You really are something. I cannot tell you how proud I am of how you are handling this. You seem to have more of your old self back,” I say, sitting back, crossing my leg over the other, stretching my arm across the back of the sofa.

  “What do you mean by that?” she snaps.

  Shit, I have offended her, and it was not intentional.

  “What I mean is you seem more spirited and enthusiastic again, not as distant as you were for a while.” That is the most diplomatic way for me to say she does not sound suicidal or angry. She seems to have found some sort of peace.

  “I am doing better. Look, I do not want to talk about my past behaviour. Tell me about your new girlfriend.” She diverts the subject as I think it causes her embarrassment.

  “She is Scottish, lives near me actually, and is a physiotherapist.” I refrain from telling her she is my angel, breath-stealer, love at first sight, my dolcezza, beautiful, and everything else in-between as it would be highly inappropriate.

  “That is great. I am sure we will get on and I will like her,” she says, upbeat. I cannot make my mind up whether it is forced or not.

  “So, tell me more about you. Are you seeing anyone?” I ask because we should be able to share these things, and it would not bother me if she was. In fact, I think it would be good for her.

  “Yes, I have but nothing serious. My work comes first.” I see a sparkle in her eyes. This is good. It finally means she is moving on.

  Understanding, I nod. “Did he treat you well?” I ask curiously, because Fran needs someone who can take on all of her issues and past burdens. And as much as I am not in love with her, I still want what is best for her. I would like to know that she is being well looked after. It would kill me to think she is unhappy or is being used.

  She smiles broadly. It is the first real smile I have witnessed since we sat down.

  “Yes he did … still does, but he works a lot too. We are good together when we get the chance to be together. We both travel a lot,” she admits.

  That stings like a bitch. It reinforces what a prick I was when we were together. I worked far too much, travelled too much, and never truly put Fran first. It upsets me that she has fallen into a similar relationship of sorts with someone else. She deserves to be happy. I wish she would find someone who can give her that.

  “Mamma and I were at Papa’s and Gabriel’s graves today. I noticed you have not been. There were no fresh flowers down.”

  I always make a point of visiting my son’s grave when I am home in Tuscany, but I have not had an opportunity since being with Lexi. I want to go and I will make a point of it, but it is not exactly the type of date I want to take Lexi on while she is on holiday. Although going by her latest displays of sympathy and kindness, I think she would understand and would not object.

  “No, I have only been back a few days. I will be staying longer than I hoped so I will be visiting as much as I can while I am here. I will take special gifts. I lit a candle for him in the chapel the other day at Castello di Brolio,” I say quietly, dropping my head. I feel a nervous, sharp pang deep inside me. It is difficult having this chat with Fran face-to-face, especially as she has never been willing to talk or be open before.

  “Gina never said you were there. I spoke with her last night,” she says nonchalantly.

  Why would Gina not say I was there? Or did she and told her all about Lexi? Is that what this visit is about? Is Fran still screwed up and came here deliberately today to meet her and see with her own eyes I have moved on? I am about to question her about it because I find it strange that Gina never mentioned anything, but I notice she is fully crying now, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Hey, come here. Are you okay?” I ask her softly.

  Turning her around, I cup her face in my hands, using the pad of my thumb to wipe her tears. Her shoulders rise and fall, and it hurts me to see her like this. I cannot remember the last time she cried in front of me. Maybe this is a sign she is recovering, because she is able to demonstrate her emotions. Before she was so closed and frozen she barely even had any facial expressions.

  I cannot help but think it is four years too late. Why could she not let her emotions show before? I never knew what she was thinking, and now I am not sure how to comfort her. It is awkward and difficult, but I do not want to allow her to go through this emotional barrage alone.

  “I just am overwhelmed with seeing you. Gabriel would have been five on his next birthday. So much has happened. There are so many things we never got to say. I am so sorry for not being open with you. I can see a little clearer now because I finally got my own therapy, but I cannot help but think I pushed you away. I am sorry if I let you down.” She sobs and drops her head on my shoulder.

  Stroking her hair, I calm her, slightly feeling like the world is spinning and the ground is about to swallow me up. God, I feel exhausted and emotionally drained.

  “Fran, you did not let me down. It was the other way around. I was not patient enough. You were not ready for therapy when I tried to make you go. I know that now because my therapist helped me see it for myself, but then you were gone. I have so many regrets about the way I treated you. I am so sorry. I hope you forgive me.” I swallow hard, pressing my eyes shut, feeling my head throb with a storming headache.

  She sniffles, then lifts her head and stares at my eyes, both of us filled with years of regret and unspoken words.

  “We cannot change the past. I just want you to do the right thing now, and if you love this girl, then take good care of her and make yourself happy. You deserve it too. You have been through a lot, not just with Gabriel but with Genaro, Jasmine, the cancer … God, Lucca, you deserve it. We need to let each other find happiness in whichever way we can.” She shocks me by being so level-headed and optimistic. This was never Fran. Therapy has been good for her.

  “We need to let each other go properly, not like the way we tried to end things the last time. We need to both agree to move on and accept closure. It is better this way, for both of us. But that does not mean you need to be a stranger. We should keep in touch more,” I add, pressing my forehead against hers, body lethargic, mind besieged.

  She sobs and slowly nods. “Please keep in touch, because we have a lot to catch up on.”

  Leaning over, I kiss her on both cheeks and whisper thank you against her cheek. This is my way of saying goodbye to her, not forever, but goodbye in the sense of us both beginning our new paths. It is finding the closure we should have had nearly three years ago when she left.

  A loud thud startles me, I see Lexi standing, bags at her feet, the distaste, hurt, and anguish in her eyes almost rips me open. Quickly letting go of Fran, I jump up.

  “Lexi, please. This is not what you think it is. Let me explain.” I panic, running my fingers through my hair.

  She shouts, “Don’t,” holding her hand up and storms out. Shit … shit, fucking shit.

  I tell Fran to stay where she is, brush past Orianna, and ask her to make sure Fran is okay while I find my girl. Lexi is almost at the end of the path near the gate by the time I manage to grab her in a tight embrace. She protests and argues she is not coming back, so I scoop her up and stride towards the study, ignoring her shouting. She is not going anywhere. I need to explain.

  God, I am such a dickhead. Of course it will look bang out of order and alarming to Lexi. I am sorry she had to find me with Fran, never mind sharing a sentimental show of affection with her. Christ … what
a fucking mess.

  In the study, I lock the door and put the key in my trousers before placing Lexi down asking her not to fight me. She cannot even look at me. That is like a goddam sore kick in the balls. Now she is crying. No, I do not want my baby getting upset.

  “Dolcezza, no. Do not cry. It was not. She was upset. It was challenging seeing her again. She has been so distant from me, from the family. She is here with her mother visiting my parents. She is back for a design conference next week at the university. I was so surprised to see her, but we have a lot to talk about and I could not ignore her. She needed the support,” I plead.

  If she will not believe me, then I do not know what to do other than get Fran here to confirm it. Feeling completely dispirited and helpless, I drop to my knees, wrap my arms around her legs, and press my head on her stomach.

  Breathing heavily, I am infuriated with myself for making her feel like this. I just hope she believes me. Lowering to her knees, she takes my face in her hands, cheeks tear-stained and body trembling, before wrapping her arms around me. Goddamn, my angel is upset and she still finds strength to comfort me.

  She apologises, asking me to forgive her. Clearing it up that it is I that should be asking for forgiveness, she relaxes, a ghost of a smile on her pretty face. God, I feel so relieved.

  “I understand. Really, it’s okay. But, Lucca … do you still love her? I need to know,” she asks.

  Thinking back to the words I shared with my mamma earlier, I feel now is the right time to tell Lexi how I feel about her. She is vulnerable and insecure and she needs to hear this from me.

  “No, I told you, I loved her for once being a part of my life, for being a lifelong friend, for whom she was to me, for what we went through. But I am not in love with her. I stopped loving her a long time ago.” What I really want to say is, “I love you, Lexi. God I love you, I wish you realised.”

  She sighs, and I am overrun with emotion at the mere thought of nearly losing her. I have a desire to tell her how important she is to me.

  “When I saw your eyes fill with dread and fear, my heart nearly stopped. I thought I had lost you. I need you and I love you. I love you, dolcezza.” I stare right into her wet, sad eyes and give her my honesty.

  Impatiently, I crash my mouth with her, kissing her with profound meaning and dissolute fervour. Her body shakes along with her sobs, her soft moans whimpering against my mouth. Orianna banging on the door and shouting breaks our moment.

  You love me?” Her voice cracks.

  “Yes, I love you. I am very much in love with you. You are mine forever, my something special,” I say tenderly, one hand in her hair, the other on her ass. I am certain I have done the right thing. She needed to hear this. I have never seen her eyes glow with such warmth.

  “Lucca, I … I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then do not say anything. Write it in your journal. I mean it, Lexi, I love you. I have loved spending time with you, getting to know you, and the more time I gaze into your eyes and have you in my arms, I am falling deeper and deeper in love with you,” I say, leaning in to kiss her with every ounce of passion leaving my body. I would give her the air out of my lungs if need be. God, I love her so much it is sickening.

  “I would never let you walk, not ever. I am so sorry. You have been on an emotional roller coaster ever since you met me, but I want to make this right. I want to take care of you and I want my family and friends to know what you mean to me, what we have together. I had to be honest with Francesca and tell her I am committed to you, that you are mine and we are together, she deserved to know,” I add.

  She asks if we are good.

  Good?

  We are fucking great.

  “We are better than good. I love you, Lexi Robertson.” I feel so much lighter; my body does not feel as heavy. The only thing that matters is that I have told Lexi how I feel and she never freaked out. I was worried she would run a mile.

  I do not need to hear it back from her. The forgiving, kind-hearted, and sweet Lexi, is all I need to fill me right now. I just do not like her being insecure, especially when I feel deeply in love with her, and that is why I am relieved I shared it, even so early in our relationship.

  I think about all the chances I missed out on, all the stupid, selfish decisions I have made, and now it is the right thing to do. We kiss, we forget, and we lose ourselves until Anna bangs like crazy on the door.

  After putting her mind at ease, I follow Lexi into the restroom while she sorts herself out. There is no way in hell I am leaving her alone when she is this vulnerable and sensitive.

  Part one: Lussuria ~ Lucca’s words

  “Lussuria ~ Chapter Twenty Two: Blackness”

  Chapter 16

  Darkness

  Entering the lounge again, I grip Lexi’s hand tightly. I wish I had taken her to Pisa today as planned, as not to put her through this difficult situation. Mamma, Donita, and Orianna are on the sofa nattering. Fran looks more composed. At least she will not be having a psychotic break or meltdown in front of Lexi.

  Lexi says some respectable and sympathetic words to Fran which just shows me that my fragile and shy girl is stronger than I have given her credit for. She is remarkable. I also notice that Donita blatantly ignores Lexi, which pisses me off. She has done nothing wrong, and I will not have her singling my girl out.

  She takes me off guard, perhaps sensing I am not amused, greeting me again with a kiss and tight embrace, as if she is seeing me for the first time all over again. It does not sit well with me. In fact, I feel a little weak and shaky. I did not eat much earlier and have had a scotch, plus all the drama over the last hour.

  Donita rambles on in Italian, only infuriating me more, because she deliberately does not want Lexi to hear, which is disrespectful to my girl. She prays, talks about the graveyard, puts pressure on me asking me when I am going to visit Gabriel. I am lost for words. I do not need to explain to her. She is too much. I would rather be sitting trying to keep a peace of sorts between Lexi and Fran if they need it, but Donita is smothering me.

  Mamma intuitively approaches and guides Donita away. Thank fuck for that. I thought I was being summoned for ten Hail Mary’s and an Our Father for my sins. Finally, I take a seat. Lexi seems to have this all on her own.

  I am proud of the way she interacts with Fran. I know it must be uncomfortable for her, and I hate she is being subjected to this so early in our relationship. Donita comes back and announces she is staying for dinner and asks Fran what she wants to do. I tense up.

  Shit, this is so wrong on many levels. It could be unpleasant for Lexi and Fran, but at least Donita had the tact to ask her first. Fran looks between us but does not know what to say. It is my girl who does the better thing.

  “Fran, it would be lovely if you stayed for dinner. I’m sure you and Lucca have a lot to catch up on,” Lexi says sincerely.

  God, she is so understanding and kind. I just hope Donita and Fran both see that Lexi has a beautiful soul.

  Lexi offers to go and help my mamma prepare dinner, suggesting I should stay and talk more with Fran and Donita. I guess I really should catch up properly with them, especially since Lexi is being so accommodating. Donita does thank Lexi and smiles, so I am pleased she is treating her with respect. Perhaps my mamma had words with her.

  Kissing Lexi’s cheek, I whisper in her ear that I love her before she goes. The next twenty minutes, I catch up with all of Donita’s news. Fran says she likes Lexi and reassures me again she is happy for us. Then I talk about Savio, Armando, and their families.

  I see Fran shift a little in her seat when I mention the kids. Of course if we were still together, she would have been their aunt. She holds her fist to her stomach, which draws my attention. It is obviously triggering thoughts for her.

  Donita leaves Fran and me to talk alone at that precise moment. I know this is going to be deep as so many things were left unsaid, and we need to clean the slate by being honest with each other. Bracing my
self, because I know it will be challenging, I pour another two fingers of scotch and a glass of wine for Fran, which she nurses.

  Fran says her therapy has helped her to accept the death of her papa and our son and she is now able to talk about it. All these years of shutting down and pushing me away, and she decides to open up now when I have someone I love in my life.

  Sighing, I down my drink and pour another because fuck, my nerves need it. I have been chipping away at Lexi, making progress with her and getting her to open up, and that in itself has not been easy. Now Fran wants to fill my mind with her emotions as well.

  It is a complete mindfuck.

  Listening to her, I feel my stomach crunch in pain like I have been kicked in the gut. It is hard to hear her tell me how alone she felt, traumatised, angry, and destroyed. Since this is the first time she has opened up, it is hard to digest.

  She continues to apologise for not letting me in all those years ago. She mentions the stages she went through, what she was feeling, all the different types of medication she has taken, and does hint that she is still dependant on some of them to help her sleep and stabilise her moods even now.

  I do not judge her, If they help her, then I encourage her to continue on them. She also reveals that she felt empty and bereft and could not face being near children or people with kids, as it cut her up. She seems to be over that stage, but she says it still hurts to see people with babies and children because she always wonders how it could have been for us.

  This I completely relate to and I tell her so. I, too, have questioned what life would be like if my son were alive and part of my life. When I explain to her that I share similar thoughts, she reaches for my hand and squeezes it tightly. She mentions that every year on the anniversary of his birth … his death, she falls apart and it sets her back.

  I sympathise, because I also struggle with that date. It drives me fucking crazy, and I am a broken man every year and I do not think that will ever change. Instead of mourning, we should be celebrating and helping him blow out his birthday candles. It is so unjust.