Lucca's Lust: The Luminara Series Book 3

by SJ Molloy

  Casey taught me how to live in the light again, and I think I am doing a pretty good job considering, I have a lot of responsibilities living in the light with my girl, but I am trying. Fuck, I am only human and one determined son of a bitch. Being weak … it is not an option.

  I am doing my fucking best and trying the hardest I can to keep my girl safe and protected by keeping her in my light. I have no intention of allowing Lexi to go back to that dark place, and okay, I confess it is not always easy, but I think I am doing a fairly good job of taking care of her. Lexi gives me purpose. She is my future and will always come first.

  And Casey knows that as long as Lexi is in my life, my future is full of promise.

  Splendente. Bright.

  Positivo. Positive.

  Amoroso. Loving.

  Sighing, I pick up my phone and make a quick call to Marco da Vinci, my childhood friend and right-hand businessman, followed by Lloyd, one of our security agents who are elsewhere within my farmhouse property.

  I ask them to tell Lexi I am in a business meeting regarding Osurac Industries in preparation for my conference calls tomorrow morning with Suzanne, my personal assistant. I do not want Lexi to know I am having a therapy session with Casey.

  Lexi does not need anything extra to worry about, or to think that I cannot cope, and it would be catastrophic for me to appear weak right now. She needs me strong. She needs me focused, and if I want to set an example for her, I need to be whole, not chipped away.

  Chipped until shattered and hollow. I know exactly how the therapy works. Casey taps away until your mind fragments into lots of little pieces. It is like a fucking jigsaw puzzle for her. She finds all the little pieces and lays them out, painting a picture of your life. A very messy picture.

  It is the patient’s job to decide what piece goes where, what fits and what does not. Then she glues you back together again, making you whole once more. Fixed picture … no gaps, connected pieces. And fuck, she is good at it.

  Years ago, I experienced group therapy in the hospital during my cancer treatment, then again with Casey after Jasmine died, and again after Fran and I lost the baby. I was drinking a lot, we were so disconnected, and my work suffered as a result of my lack of motivation.

  It was Terence, my friend from Scotland, who convinced me to book therapy for us both with his wife, Casey, when I hit rock bottom. I told him I needed help while on a skiing break on the Cairngorms slopes in the Scottish Highlands.

  Fran never turned up for that first therapy session. I felt like a complete fool sitting in the Mt. Martha Clinic in Glasgow, alone and waiting like a fucking loser, but Casey was patient and kind and asked if I wanted to carry on with the session regardless. The fact that she knew me personally made the whole process a little more comfortable and bearable. She had me sussed out before I even opened up to her. She is that good.

  To be honest, I am not surprised Fran never turned up, and I have asked myself if she did, would Casey have performed a miracle and helped restore our relationship. The answer is no. Casey certainly would have been able to help Fran, of that I am positive. Fran and I … we were not destined to be together. We were trying to hold onto a bond we had as children, but living in the real adult world that bond no longer existed.

  It was more of an obligation that I honoured and vowed to be with her, but we were on different pages. She was a safety net for me, and when I was mindlessly fucking around with lots of women I thought Fran would settle me down, make me a better man.

  Ultimately, my heart just was not in it. I desperately wanted my papa and Nonno to think I had matured and was becoming the sensible son they wanted me to be. Savio and Armando, my brothers, were settling down with their partners, Sarah and Kate, and I felt a lot of pressure on me from the family.

  Fran and I were not helplessly in love, nor did we want to fight for each other. I knew I had to save myself because I did not want Fran, my friends, and family witnessing the dark Lucca—the one who drank and was a reckless womanising asshole.

  It actually was Orianna, my little sister, that made me see sense. Unknowingly, she convinced me to take the first step to do something to change my attitude. She cried, shouting obscenities, while hitting me in the chest, telling me what a failure I was, that I was pitiful and had let her down. God, she was so disgusted and hurt with the way I was behaving. I did not want her to feel that way. I did not even have a fucking clue that she was affected so much.

  My baby sister should look up to me, not be embarrassed or ashamed of me, and I love her dearly. I would do anything for her, and I want to be a role model for her. I want to protect her, make her proud of me, and be a caring brother, not a fucking broken one.

  I saw it in her eyes. She hated the dark Lucca, so something had to give. Mamma and Papa both helped me when I was being careless and selfish, but it fucking stung like a bitch to see the disgust in Orianna’s eyes. That was what opened my eyes.

  My brothers did try … and beat the shit out of me, or into me as the case was one night when I was wasted. I am too strong for them, even drunk. They still could not handle me. After a brotherly brawl, we ended up falling over chairs in a heap on the floor.

  When Orianna saw the bruises and cuts we had from fighting, she cried. Fuck, did she cry. And my papa … to say he was pissed off at us was an understatement. God she was so upset. I felt like I was suffocating. It killed me to see her upset like that.

  Checking the time, I tap my feet impatiently. While waiting on Casey in my office, I delete some emails to tie things up today. I notice a new email update from the CID specialists in Scotland. Urgently, I open it to check if there is any news. Nothing. Not a fucking thing. A chill runs through, rage consumes me, and my head throbs with an ache caused by anger.

  What a goddamn fucking nightmare. How the fuck have they not found any links or leads yet? It has been months. I was hoping to get good news from them today, not fucking nada. Incompetent assholes. I have a good mind to drag the director of the CID’s ass over to Tuscany and beat the fucking shit out of him. What is he doing? Running an army of brainless fuckwits, that is what.

  That has just stirred a storm of tension inside me. I pick up the phone and call Cameron to vent my frustration. “Hey, buddy. It is Lucca. Listen, I just got an update and still nothing at all. What about that last lead? Can you not find out what is going on?” I ask him impatiently.

  I know it is not his fault and that he is doing the best he can. He is trying to ensure Orianna, our family, and friends are safe back home and he has his job to uphold as well. The guy must be exhausted, but I have high hopes that he can find something out from his contacts within the forces.

  “Lucca, mate, I got the same update as you did. I’m so sorry. I know how hard this is and I wish we had more to go on too. CID actively pursued the lead, but it turned out to be nothing. I found out everything I could from my contacts.” He sighs, and I know he is just as frustrated as me. He would do anything to keep Lexi safe, and I know he wants Michael Parks’ blood.

  But he is mine. Cameron, buddy, you cannot have him. He is mine to destroy. And fuck, if I will not have fun doing it.

  “I know, I know. I am sorry. I am just getting impatient. Lexi, she needs me to tell her good news so we can home and stop hiding from the fucker. The press, I can deal with … at least they do not cause any real danger to her, but him … fuck knows what he is doing or where he is. It is not safe to bring her home yet.” I get up from my desk and head straight to my drinks cabinet in the corner of the room.

  “What about your private detective and his agency, they dug up any shit yet?” he asks. I grab myself a crystal glass and eye an unopened bottle of Macallan whiskey. Tempting. Very tempting. Feeling restraint, I opt for a Peroni instead. As much as I crave the warm, amber malt, I am not doing that to Lexi. I promised her.

  “Nothing. What about yours?” I ask, popping the lid on the beer. Taking a long swig, I plonk myself down on the leather sofa, cross one leg over t
he other, and stretch back. Cameron has his own private investigators also trying to uncover anything that could help us trace that bad bastard Michael down.

  “I have had him lying low because of the press. Fucking reporters are making everything more difficult. They’re still swamping the street outside your property and following us anywhere we go. I thought they would’ve gone to fuck by now.” I hear frustration in Cameron’s voice. That northern Scottish twang he has sounds more prominent, covering up any trace of his previous Australian accent.

  “I am so sorry, bud. I know this is difficult for everyone involved. I thought that my press conference would help the situation and put an end to the prying bastards, not stir up more controversy. They are like fucking leeches.” I feel an unsettling pang of guilt, a heavy burden of regret tugging at my core. I glug back more beer and tap the bottle neck against my temple. What a fucking mess. A complete fucked-up mess.

  “Look, mate, you did the right thing at the right time. It was a smart move and cleared up the allegations. You didn’t know that they’d want to stalk you. It’s been difficult on everyone, especially the girls, but we’re all okay and getting through it. You need to look after my sister and make her your priority and stop worrying about us.” It is enough for me to down the rest of my Peroni and pop the lid on another.

  Cameron’s heart is in the right place. As always, he is thinking of Lexi’s welfare which I respect. I love that he thinks of her. It has been a big change for him; he is normally the man in Lexi’s life taking care of her. Just mentioning how protective he is of his sister is like another sucker punch to me. Orianna.

  “And Anna, how is she coping? I have not spoken with her in two days. I know she is okay because I spoke with Peter and the security team. Peter said she has been quiet. Tell me you are taking good care of her,” I say, scrapping my thumb along my stubble. He better fucking tell me she is okay, or I will be on my jet tonight with Lexi to pick her up and fly her back here to stay with us.

  “Of course I’m taking care of her. She’s never out of my sight, and if she needs to be security is with her. She’s okay but she has been quiet this week. I think she’s tired. Hazel, Jess, Carrie, Lucy, Sam, and Nicole have been good company for her, but I don’t know it’s just … just …” He pauses. What is he not telling me?

  “Spit it out, Cameron. What is going on?” I demand answers because when my loved ones are involved I do not take things lightly.

  “I think she feels claustrophobic. It’s starting to feel like we are all living in the Big Brother house. Yeah, this place is fucking huge … plenty big for everyone and safe, but it’s hard … not having time alone. The stress is kinda getting to everyone.” Cameron’s voice falters. It is almost as if he sounds embarrassed.

  I know that feeling all too well, being surrounded by people and not having Lexi all to myself.

  Cata-fuckin-strophic.

  Claustrofobia. Claustrophobia.

  Confinamento. Confinement.

  Oscurato. Overshadowed.

  Febbre di cabina. Cabin fever.

  Story of my fucking life these days.

  I am quiet. Do I want my sister to feel like that? No. Do I want our friends, our family, to feel like that? No. Do I want Lexi and myself to feel like that? No. Life is a goddamn bitch sometimes.

  “Lucca? You there, mate?” I take another long draft of my beer then clench my teeth, sucking in air.

  “Yeah, I am just pondering on a thought.” I tap the edge of the sofa.

  “Look, we’ll get through this. It’s only a matter of time before they find someone else, another story to obsess over. And as for Michael … he won’t come above ground until the dust settles. Once we get shot of the press, life is going to be a whole lot easier.” Cameron sounds assured. I just hope that he is right.

  Perhaps I need to consider doing this stupid fucking magazine interview just to get them off our backs. Lexi is not keen on the idea, but maybe they will back off a little and it will give them some information they want. Satisfy them a little and tick them over.

  My advisors and PR agents advised me to use some of my Osurac projects to divert their attention and use it to my advantage. Seize the opportunity to publicise my enterprise and avoid more of the personal exploitation they relish in.

  Before my press conference, I had to hire a team of professional PR agents to manage and control our publicity to work along with my good friend and solicitor, Omari Fayed. I sought out the best agents in the industry.

  They had to be briefed on the sensitivity of the matter and be instructed to do anything it takes in order to cover up as many leaking articles and tabloid scandals on Lexi, Grace, and Cameron’s past as possible.

  They have caught and put to bed most of the slander, but like everything in life, some things just do not stay buried for long. Someone always has a spade ready to dig or the means to obtain information which was hidden and destroyed years ago. Damn fucking vultures.

  “I am just thinking I might agree to this magazine interview thing when things die down and my schedule clears. I think it will help everyone, or I am hoping it will,” I say before finishing my second beer.

  “Okay, whatever you think. I trust you’ll do the right thing, but just make sure Lex is on board. You know she’ll kick up about it. How is she today? Is she still sick? She wasn’t feeling great yesterday when I spoke to her.” Cameron knows his sister well.

  He is spot on. She will be averse to the idea of the magazine interview. His tone is sympathetic and sincere, asking about her health. He will be really worried about her.

  “She was sick yesterday. It seems to come and go now, whereas before she was sick around the clock. Today she has been okay, just tired, and she will not fucking listen to the doctors or to me when we tell her she needs bed rest.” I walk back to the bar to open another beer. At this rate I will be buzzed before Casey arrives for our session. Fucking therapy, not me. Do not need it. Nah.

  Cameron laughs. “Yeah, well I did try to warn you how feisty she can be … and headstrong.” A ghost of a smile crosses my face, softening the muscles I have been tensing in my jaw.

  Lexi thinks because she is over the worst of her acute morning sickness, she can do all the things she did before. She tries to protest when I take her to bed, often forcing herself to stay awake until she always passes out on me with exhaustion and I need to take her to bed anyway. I know exactly what she is trying to do. She thinks if she forces herself to stay awake, then I will not insist she needs bed rest. Cute, but not happening. My baby girl needs rest.

  “Yeah, I pretty much worked that out for myself, bud, early on. She keeps me on my toes, but I would not have it any other way.” I swig back more Peroni. This shit is going down too easy. I better calm down and pace myself.

  “Tell my mum I’ll call her tomorrow. When is her next session with Casey?” he asks.

  I pick up some documents sitting on the lamp table beside the sofa and utilise some time. I feel the chest pocket of my shirt for the ballpoint pen Lexi got me. Scrolling my fingers over the words she had engraved on it, I smile, feeling a tug at my heart strings.

  ‘Il mio qualcosa di speciale. TI amo, ora e per sempre, Lexi x’.

  You are my something special. Now and forever, Lexi x.

  She has no idea just how special she is to me. I do not think I have told her today how special she is, how much I love her. I better remedy that later when I hold her before she falls asleep on me.

  Setting my beer on the table, I flick through the Osurac reports at the top of the pile, scribbling my signature frantically before giving these back to Suzanne tomorrow morning.

  “Lexi and your mum both have sessions again tomorrow,” I reply, tapping the pen quickly on my paper feeling agitated. I fail to tell him I have a session with her. Joke. Absolutely unnecessary. Complete joke.

  “Okay, mate, give them a kiss and hug from me. Tell them I’ll speak to them both tomorrow and that I miss them,” he says.

/>   “Sure, buddy. Kiss my sister from me, tell her I love her, and keep her out of mischief,” I reply, signing another document.

  “Lucca, this is your sister we’re talking about. Kiss … yes, can do, but mischief? Can’t promise that.”

  It actually elicits a laugh from me. I know how cheeky my sister can be. Cameron must have the patience of a goddamn saint.

  “Fair point. Okay, if you cannot keep her out of mischief, then make sure you keep her safe.” I add, shaking my head with a grin, placing the documents back on the table.

  After disconnecting, I chug the beer in one go and place the pen back in my shirt pocket. Closing my eyes, I link my hands behind my head and rest backwards, chest rising, fingers gripping.

  Cameron telling me that everyone back home is tense has not helped my mood. If anything, it has made it worse. I know it was not intentional, and I told him I want to know everything that is going on to ensure everyone’s safety, but fuck, it stings like a bitch.

  Fuck it. I pace towards the bar, lift a large wine goblet, and open a bottle of expensive red wine my papa left. Maybe it will help relieve a bit of tension. I swirl my first mouthful of the deep burgundy wine, closing my eyes to appreciate the blend. It is pretty damn good. Turning the bottle I look at the label: Brunello di Montalcino. Nice.

  Savouring the wine, I think of Lexi … and lunch in the vineyard with antipasti, olives, cheese, breads, and oils. I think of making love to her on a picnic blanket outside in the sunshine and curling up on the love chair underneath the orange tree, watching the sunset.

  A knock at the door startles me from my reverie. I invite Casey in, double-cheek kiss her as I have not spoken to her since this morning, and ask her to take a seat on the sofa. She is dressed casually, because she is a guest here and I very much like her and Suzanne to both feel at home when they are not working, to treat this trip like a holiday. I notice she frowns looking at the glass.

  “Wine?” I ask, holding up my glass.