Luca's Lessons
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
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About the Authors
LUCA’S LESSONS
DEANA BIRCH & AMELIA FOSTER
Luca’s Lessons
ISBN # 978-1-78686-471-0
©Copyright Deana Birch and Amelia Foster 2019
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright June 2019
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2019 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
An Italian Dom guides a Swiss banker through the world of BDSM and she threatens his most important rule.
Sparked by curiosity and drawn by need, Swiss banker Claire asks Italian businessman Luca to introduce her to the D/s lifestyle. He agrees, as long as she abides by his number one rule of not falling in love. The two then embark on a slow, complete and realistic path of liberating Claire’s true submissive nature.
But as their lessons progress, blurred lines morph into a child’s scribbled drawing when feelings creep into their playtime. And with new emotions bubbling under the surface, Luca questions Claire’s hard no. She calls ‘red’ and walks away, leaving the Dom sure he’s lost the one sub who finally saw his true desire to be cared for.
Now, certain she’s broken his only rule and torn by thoughts of betraying her dead husband, Claire must decide between exploring the love she’s found or locking away her heart with the ghosts of her past.
Dedication
For Meka, our cherished friend and fellow author who has held our hand every step of the way with her Luca.
To the amazing group of readers who encouraged and supported us—Evie, Maureen, Hannah and Cora. None of this would be possible without you ladies.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
The Princess Bride: William Goldman, 20th Century Fox, Interaccess Film Distribution
Gone With the Wind: Margaret Mitchell
Audi: Audi Aktiengesellschaft Corporation
Cheshire Cat: Disney Enterprises Inc.
Maserati: Maserati S.p.A.
Aston Martin: Aston Martin Lagonda Limited Company
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Burberry: Burberry Limited Corporation
Ironman: World Triathlon Corporation
FaceTime: Apple Inc.
Ninna Nanna: Johannes Brahms & Matteo Bosi
Porsche: Dr ING HCF Porsche AG Corporation
Cinderella: Disney Enterprises Inc.
BBC: British Broadcasting Corporation
Cartier: Cartier International A.G. Corporation
Chapter One
Luca
A silver foil wrapper tumbled down the stone walkway along the Limmat River, and Luca stepped to the side, his arms crossed. A giggling young couple with too many piercings for his personal preference hurried by, unaware of the menacing, forgotten paper. In his dark suit, crisp white shirt and matching silk navy tie, he waited.
The improperly disposed-of litter flopped one more time, trapped itself at the edge of the stone wall and, away from the light breeze, rested. Satisfied by his small conquest—surely it was his will that had brought its journey to an end—Luca smirked. He walked over, picked it up and secured its fate in a wire bin. A pestering thought of germs poked at his side, but he brushed his hands together at a job well done and continued on his path to the private bank.
While the inconvenience had been a distraction, it had been welcomed. Early and eager were two qualities he admired, but not in himself. He reached for the door of the gray, historic building at exactly seven minutes past his scheduled appointment. Perfetto.
After a brief check through security, including a confirmation of his identity, he climbed the two flights of stairs to the private bank of Steinmetz and Favre.
The heavy wooden doors of the suite opened to sleek metal-and-cream marble that created a stark contrast to the building’s dated exterior. But the interior did not surprise Luca. He’d already seen the clean, powerful reception in the magazine article about the youngest woman entrepreneur in the history of private banking.
And it was no mistake he’d sought out Claire Favre. Young, driven and on-the-rise was exactly the kind of mind he wanted handling his soon-to-be-acquired secret business. The piece about her and her partner in the weekly publication inserted into the Sunday paper had done more than pique his interest. Fortunately, Luca’s reputation and family history had provided enough of a motivation that he’d obtained an appointment without too much delay.
He gave his name to the young, just-above-cheap-suited man behind the massive desk and took a seat in the black leather club chair. Magazines in four different languages were fanned on the iron table next to him. He aligned the one on top to sync with the others and the rhythmed echo of high heels ricocheting off the hallowed walls made him look up.
Madonna mia.
The picture had done her no justice. Claire Favre’s sharp hip bo
nes pointed behind the fabric of her tight black skirt and they swayed in a hypnotizing motion as she drew nearer. The formfitting blazer matched the skirt, and a pink silk blouse formed a deep V below. Different from the photo, where her blonde locks had been loose and casual as she’d smiled, her hair was now pulled back into a low, tight bun and her lips remained firmly locked together.
Luca stood, happy his height put him at an advantage, and buttoned his jacket at the waist. The momentary shock of her in-person beauty sank into his gut. It had no business in his throat or chest.
“Herr Bernardi.” She extended her small, manicured hand but barely smiled.
“English, please.” Luca ignored the slight jump in his heart rate as they touched.
“As you wish.” Her light shrug remained formal.
Surely a coincidence.
He narrowed his eyes.
Ms. Favre’s smile grew tighter and she spun around. “My office is just down the hall.”
Luca followed the banker and stared at the back of her exposed neck. He would not check out her ass, not in a professional setting where the woman deserved respect. He would not.
He did. He most certainly did. And damn it all to hell and back if his palm didn’t twitch with desire.
When the penance of being a gentleman and walking behind a woman to whom he owed respect—not ogling—had finished, he squared his shoulders at the threshold of her office and renewed his purpose—business.
Ms. Favre ushered him to a cubed leather chair opposite her desk and he reached for the button of his jacket while she floated to the other side of the impressive oak plank.
A quick glance of her surroundings revealed nothing—no framed photos of her and the late husband the article had referred to or children it had not hinted at. Truly nothing. This woman was clean, uncomplicated and professional—everything Luca desired in a banker…and perhaps other things.
“Please,” she said and motioned to the seat behind him. With a quick brush on the back of her skirt—is hand jealousy a thing?—she gracefully sat. “Tell me what brings you here, Mr. Bernardi.”
Where to begin? The long and challenging path of fully respecting and refining one’s own needs? The obvious motivation of a man-made success? Best to start with the not-so-shocking. One never knows.
In the warmest, most casual tone he could muster he said, “I am in negotiations to buy a business. A private club, actually. And I was hoping to keep said investment separate from my others.”
Her blue-gray gaze pierced him and she drew her light, thin eyebrows together. “You have a business you’d like to hide, and you want to use my bank to do so?”
“No.” Convincing her was going to take some massaging, especially since the bulk of his wealth would not be coming along for the ride. “I have a business I’d like to keep to myself, but I’d like you to handle investing and growing the worth of the account.”
Claire crossed her fingers on the desk and circled a thumb slowly into the opposite palm.
“Is it an illegal business?” she asked.
“No, but it is private, much like your bank.” Luca flattened his lips and fought a smile. The woman calmed herself with touch. He admired and recognized the gesture. In a cold room full of stark decorations, her softness slammed into him.
He blinked. Business. And the need to hide his new project.
“And what is this soon-to-be-acquired opportunity?” She creased her pink lips.
There was the catch. The hitch. The hard-sell.
He stared into her eyes. “A private club.”
She stilled her hands and cocked an eyebrow. “A misogynistic group of racist old men smoking cigars and plotting world domination?”
Interesting choice of words.
“No.” This time he allowed the smile to shine. Her spunk and terseness must have helped her along the way.
But what way? According to the magazine article, she was barely thirty years old, and her private schooling, with winters in Gstaad and springs outside of Geneva, had assured her enough wealthy contacts for life. Her path and its perks had been easy—a silver spoon and a glass slipper.
“Are women welcome in your club, Mr. Bernardi?”
Her chest rose then fell slowly.
“Very much so.” He dipped his chin.
She’d mentioned it twice now. Maybe empowering women was her motive.
Luca continued, “I welcome all to my club, Ms. Favre. The members and I pride ourselves on acceptance.”
This brought a slight tilt to her head and what Luca hoped was a glimmer in her hazy eyes.
“All? That doesn’t sound too private.”
Her objection was welcomed with fervor, the familiar heat Luca longed for in a challenge. That, and her ‘As you wish’ comment from reception, braided into a perfect rope of feisty and submissive—not that the powerful woman before him would ever admit to wanting to surrender herself to the will of another.
But, contrary to what were probably her beliefs, she had all the signs. Her manners were impeccable. Her attention to detail…perfection. And that softness… The gentle side of her that Luca would bet his portfolio she didn’t think people saw—but he did. He knew exactly the kind of woman who sat in front of him.
“I assure you that the membership fee secures the privacy,” he said with a quick nod.
“And what is the membership fee? If I may ask?”
You may. Such lovely manners.
“Fifty thousand euros initially, plus another fifty thousand a year. On top of that, there are certain benefits that members may or may not choose to acquire. But, essentially, ten million would be my earnings in the first year.”
She smiled curtly. The minimum balance to open most private banks in Switzerland was usually around a million francs. With a promise of more, maybe the risk of taking on what appeared to be a seedy client would dissolve.
“What exactly transpires at your club, Mr. Bernardi?” Her business etiquette remained flawless.
Well, that would depend entirely on which room one would peep into. But there was no reason to beat around the bush.
“Exploration of one’s boundaries, Ms. Favre.” Luca met her stare with heavy eyes.
“Sex. You plan to run a high society sex club.” Her tone was flat, almost bored.
How could she hold his gaze? He was certain she was more a bottom than a top.
“I’m interested in continuing the initial goal of the founder, who provides a safe environment for all genders to escape without worries or hassles. It has been a tradition for years that every member sign a confidentiality agreement. It covers everything done and witnessed behind the closed, or sometimes open”—he tilted his head—“doors of the club.”
Claire Favre appeared to remain unfazed. Is she?
She looked past Luca and he studied the pale, sweet skin exposed from her neck to her chest. From the lack of freckles and spots, it hadn’t seen much sun over the summer. He knew its shade well, the perfect cream that would flush pink with proper stimulation.
Luca lifted his gaze. He would not be caught dreaming about bunching up her skirt and examining the most sensitive areas of her body. Business, he reminded himself.
“Might I ask why you thought I would be the right banker for your secret investment?”
Luca was still very much denying the answer himself. The woman had intrigued more than his financial affairs when he’d seen her in the photo.
“Empowerment, Ms. Favre. We’re in the same business. You want to empower—”
She raised a hand and scoffed. He’d finally rattled her.
“I fail to see how tying up women and spanking them with riding crops is empowering.” Her expression must have been attempting to scold him.
Hilarious.
Ah, the misconceptions. The fantasized, glorified, utter wrongness in the perception of the lifestyle… Luca had hoped a woman of Claire’s status would have been better read than what popular opinion had painted as the BDSM cult
ure. But alas, stereotypes were indeed festering wounds.
Luca curled his index finger around his mouth and tucked the opposite hand under his elbow.
She sat behind her desk, eyes slightly narrowed and waiting, oh so patiently with her hint of challenge, for his response. The blend was intoxicating.
Before the stirrings of his under-thoughts could bubble to the surface, he said, “I’d like to prove you wrong. The best way to do that I think would be to show you.”
Her eyelids fluttered and the rosy flush he’d been trying to deny he craved crept up her neck. Claire swallowed hard.
Sorry, Ms. Favre. Flexing my mental muscle is an unbreakable yet delicious habit.
“Excuse me?” she managed.
Luca cleared his throat. “There are, perhaps, images you have about what goes on in a private setting such as my future club—images that, while they may scratch at the surface of truth, do only that…scratch.”
Her skin returned to its cream natural state and Luca grieved the departure of the pink.
He continued, “Why don’t you visit? Take a tour. I’m sure you’ll find that it’s just as much a legitimate business as the pesticides that kill millions of bees every year. Hopefully, more. I assure you that no one gets hurt unless they want to.” Another man might have winked, but Luca only shifted his jaw instead.
She stiffened her posture. “You want me to come to a club and watch people get spanked and have sex?”
He grinned. “You seem rather fixated on the spanking part.”
She rolled her eyes.
That would never do.
“I’m not fixated on anything. I’m just wondering… If your business is so much on the up and up, why would you want to hide it in my bank, because it doesn’t seem like any of your other sources of income are shifting into my vaults with it? And secondly, why then, would I take a risk on you, a stranger to me, for a venture that you would like to brush under the rug?”
Luca crossed his foot over the opposite knee and adjusted in his chair.