Luca's Lessons

by Deana Birch

  Completely impossible. The dark eyes hinted at things Claire wasn’t yet ready to admit she wanted. She was helpless to deny the commanding pull charging the atmosphere around him, urging her to offer him her compliance.

  Summoning every ounce of pure stubbornness she possessed, she offered a smile. “Please, Mr. Bernardi, follow me. My apologies for being late.” He rose from his seat, buttoning the perfectly tailored navy jacket with one hand while waving her ahead with the other. The cadence of his footfalls behind her encompassed everything Luca Bernardi was—determined, controlled, firm.

  “I presume this is a habit of yours.” His comment followed the soft click of the door as it latched into place, sealing them in the privacy of her office.

  Why was the very notion of being cloistered away with him enough to cause the heart she’d once believed incapable of beating again after she’d lost Liam to now pound in her ears? She set her case on the floor beside her desk and took her seat as he mirrored her actions across the gleaming oak surface. Her gaze dropped to her lap of its own volition.

  “I… Yes. Yes, it is.” She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his steady stare. “And I do apologize again. But I would like to make a proposal, Mr. Bernardi. A business proposal.” She tacked on the qualifier as an afterthought, lest he believe she wanted anything more from him than the connections and traction fees he offered…like the undoubtedly expert hands resting on the arms of the chair to explore her body or the full lips almost concealed by his dark, well-groomed beard to make a trail over her every curve. Certainly not the gleaming white teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, making her knees buckle…

  No, she was not interested in any of that and wanted it to be very clear to the great Mr. Luca Bernardi.

  His intense gaze didn’t falter and Claire fought the urge to squirm beneath his blatant scrutiny. And the heat creeping up her chest, peeking out of the neckline of the lilac camisole she wore beneath her black blazer…

  “Luca,” he said.

  His name wiped her mind clear of every rehearsed word she was trying to focus on. “E-e-excuse me?”

  He inclined his dark head. “You will call me Luca, Claire. Not Mr. Bernardi.”

  Claire struggled to control her erratic breathing. He hadn’t requested she address him by his first name. He had demanded. Ordered. Decided.

  “As I was saying, I have been thinking over the brief tour of your perspective club. In order for me to align my company with you and risk the possibility of being exposed at some point, thereby putting my partner and my reputation in jeopardy, I simply must insist on seeing the entirety of the building, all you have to offer, to see exactly what would entice one to spend that much money on a membership.”

  She folded her hands on her desk and congratulated herself on the confident, unaffected, nonjudgmental tone with which she had spoken. She began making circles in her palm with her thumb—of its own volition. His chocolate gaze slid from hers to her hand and back up. Without a word he arched an eyebrow and her finger stilled on its own. Butterfly wings beat a rhythmic pattern in her stomach at his approving nod.

  “Your bank is successful, has an impressive client list and will unquestionably become a renowned and highly sought-after home for an array of businesses.” He paused and inclined his dark head in her direction. “However, there are many other banks in Europe that could tout each of those points. Why should I agree to your terms?”

  That had been the question to trip Claire up as she’d mulled over her plan the previous night. What did she have to offer him? Nothing, other than his own voracious pride.

  Claire lifted one slim shoulder and affected an unconcerned expression. “You are undoubtedly correct. And for all I know, some of the partners of those banks may very well already be clients of your future establishment.” The corner of her mouth kicked up and she tilted her head to the side. “But you chose me and my bank. And while I don’t fully comprehend your reasoning, I believe I do understand your personality—and failure is not an option.”

  His jaw worked back and forth. It was a small, barely perceptible motion, but Claire found herself highly attuned to his every movement. She kept her calm mask in place while a war raged beneath the surface. She had either made a grave mistake or opened a thrilling door.

  The silence was both terrifying and exhilarating as the air crackled between them. Claire fought against the instinctual urge to lower her gaze, instead holding the dark liquid stare with far more conviction than she felt. A taunting voice at the back of her mind reminded her of the girls she had seen at the club. Their easy and immediate obedience to their…whatever misogynistic title those men wore. A vision of Luca in that role flashed in her mind, commanding those under his authority.

  A second image followed, making her manufactured confidence falter as her eyelids fluttered. No, no, Luca might have any number of women willing to kneel before him but she was not one of them, not even if the mental picture renewed the fire that seemed to smolder in his presence.

  “I shall make arrangements for a more in-depth tour.” He held one long finger up. “However, you will be on time for this appointment.”

  He rose from his seat and buttoned his coat in one smooth move. Claire stood with him, struck speechless by his authoritarian tone—and very annoyed at her traitorous body’s response to it. She held her hand out, relying on the manners she had cut her teeth on to save her from giving away one iota of her true feelings to him. “As you wish, Mis— Luca.”

  Once again his brow arched then an approving smile settled on his face. He nodded before turning on his heel and taking his leave.

  Within seconds, before she could have the recovery time she needed after the power struggle with Luca, Julien raced into the room, closing the door behind him and perching on the edge of the chair Luca had so recently abandoned.

  “Please tell me that you love me enough to not allow this to be the last time we see that gorgeous specimen in this office.”

  Claire sat back in her chair, in a daze and a strange combination of exhausted and excited. “I— I don’t exactly know. I am getting the full tour of his club…” She realized that even in his concession, he had taken control. “At some point. Then I’ll make a final decision.”

  Julien clapped with glee. “Another encounter with Luca Bernardi and a second chance to dress you up like my own personal doll? It’s like Christmas is coming early!”

  Claire folded her arms across her desk and let her forehead fall on top of them. “Oh, fuck me, what have I done?”

  Chapter Five

  Luca

  The black Maserati’s engine purred as it crept closer to the toll booth. A five-hour drive south in silence had been the perfect remedy for the constant chatter that had overtaken Luca’s mind.

  He tapped the steering wheel with his middle and index fingers. It was difficult to believe Claire Favre’s interest in the club was strictly business. He pursed his lips before forming a tight grin. It was equally difficult to admit his interest in her was only for a financial transaction. Maybe if he let her stew, the real reasons would bubble to the surface.

  Toll paid and now well beyond the Swiss border, he checked his mirrors. His shoulders pressed into the dark leather behind him and he stiffened his arms as he accelerated past the right lane of cars abiding by the speed limit.

  She would be lovely on her knees, head bent—surrendering. And had she been late intentionally, to rile him up? Perhaps this was already a game neither one of them was fully aware they had begun playing.

  But if she were going to see the club, it would need to be with him. There was no room for misinterpretations. Whether or not Claire was curious about the lifestyle, which her body language had confirmed but her words had not, his future business and current reputation now hung on the line.

  He guided the impressive steel machine back into the right lane and called Bruno from the speaker.

  “I thou
ght you were in Italy.” His old friend coughed twice.

  “This is what it has come to? You don’t even greet me anymore? I’m wounded.” Luca would have smiled at their banter if the sign of Bruno’s failing health had not reminded him of the precious little time he had left.

  “Hello, Luca, my dear. I’ve missed you.” The sugar in Bruno’s voice dripped through the car. “Lucerne is boring and Adrian fusses over me too much. Better?”

  “I miss you, too, you old queen. I thought you two were headed to Sopra?”

  Bruno let out a long breath from the other end. “I didn’t have the energy. I sent him alone. I’m sorry. I should have told you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t go to see your nonna like a good Italian boy.” Playful truth wove between his words.

  His friend knew him too well. The thought of Adrian, while sweet and well-seasoned on the scene, running Sopra for the weekend was indeed displeasing. Management required a strong hand—so to speak—as there were certain Doms who had unfavorable tendencies when not properly monitored.

  But Luca could not turn around. His tiny little nonna would be crushed, and that was not worth the gamble. Plus, seeing her calmed him. Her dust-free house and perfectly arranged small statues of saints were the order from his otherwise chaotic childhood.

  Three more taps on the steering wheel as his jaw shifted and Bruno waited on the other end. Luca would have to speed up the completion of the sale. The sooner he paid Bruno, the happier they would all be.

  “I need you to authorize a non-member for a tour during peak hours. The banker wants to make sure your clients are getting their money’s worth.”

  Bruno chuckled but it turned into a minor coughing spell. Had the phone been close to Luca’s ear, he would have withdrawn.

  “Claire Favre? The woman you so randomly chose to broker the deal?” The song in Bruno’s voice made Luca frown.

  “Don’t push,” Luca scolded.

  “Darling, it is my nature to push. That’s why I had more male subs than I care to admit.” The laugh came back and, thankfully, this time it was hack free.

  “Don’t push me, then.”

  “Fair enough. I assume she’s already signed the non-disclosure. I’ll get Elias to confirm and Adrian will send you a message with the green light.”

  They ended their call and Luca had just enough time for two more before he would arrive at his family’s home.

  “This is Max.” The husky voice rang out over the car’s speaker.

  “It’s Luca. I need you to watch that prick Noah Paulick this weekend. Get one of the unattached subs to work the bar and keep your eyes glued to the cameras. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir. No problem. Anything else?”

  “Call me on this number if there’s an issue. Adrian is coming without Bruno. If something comes up, you may need to act quick. You have my full confidence.”

  “You got it.”

  After pressing the button to hang up, Luca glanced at the clock on the dash. She should still be at the bank. And even if she wasn’t, her assistant would be.

  He made a mental note to get her private number. Hearing Claire’s voice and the possibility of one more ‘As you wish’ could lighten the tension in his neck that a poorly supervised club was causing.

  “Claire Favre’s office.”

  “Luca Bernardi.”

  “Oh. Hello, sir. How can I help you? I’m afraid Ms. Favre is on a call. She’ll regret missing you.” Her assistant’s perk and attempt at coolness were endearing.

  Luca grinned. “Please tell your boss I will pick her up at ten tomorrow evening at her house.”

  “Uh…”

  “And please remind her to be ready.”

  Luca’s thumb brushed the End Call button and pushed it down gently. He gazed ahead at the rolling hills leading into his grandmother’s town and estate. Nonna would not be happy with him leaving early and would probably fuss about him driving ten hours within twenty-four, but she was worth it. Both women were—the short, fragile force of nature with graying hair and the frail blonde who needed to be tamed and worshiped like she’d probably never known was possible.

  The gravel crunched under his tires as he drove into the circular driveway until he was directly behind his father’s old and abused Aston Martin. Piero Bernardi stood next to his baby-blue car with his shirt untucked on one side, exposing what his son was sure was a larger belly than the last time he’d seen it. It had been one year prior, for the same celebration.

  Piero waddled around to the trunk, reached for a duffel bag that dated from Luca’s childhood, slammed the metal down and turned to his son. Behind the cloak of disorder, disorganization and occasional drunkenness, there was love.

  A horn honked from behind him and the silver SUV of Luca’s cousin approached in the rearview mirror. Luca got out of his car and went to greet his father.

  “You have paint in your hair,” Luca said as he pulled back from the embrace.

  “I always have paint in my hair.” His father shrugged and looked to the new arrivals.

  Children of various ages poured out of the SUV, waved to Luca and his father and ran around the large gray stone house. Soon after, splashes and screams followed from the back, signaling their delight and need to burn off pent-up energy from a long ride.

  Luca walked over to his cousin Gianna, who unbuckled her last child from her car seat. The middle-aged beauty paused from her task long enough to kiss Luca on the cheeks then passed him her daughter. He cooed an Italian song in the little girl’s ear, bounced her a few times and told her how beautiful she was.

  Another car drove up and another group of children sprang free from its passenger doors and ran directly to the pool where their dark-haired counterparts were already laughing. Luca handed the little darling back to her mother, went to say hello to the new arrivals then turned his attention to finding the birthday girl.

  * * * *

  The recently washed car idled around the corner from the address plugged into his GPS, and Luca leaned deeper into his seat. Nine-fifty-six p.m. After a noisy and hectic Friday night where his father’s lack of manners had reminded him why he kept his distance, the quiet inside the automobile brought him calm.

  But the anticipation of Claire Favre’s reaction and potential true interest in what she was about to see percolated in his veins. There was something. It couldn’t be denied. With one small look, she’d stopped that adorable habit she had with her hands. And he’d had to flee the bank and steady his heart rate with her parting words.

  Does she have any idea what that phrase does to me?

  He put the car into drive and turned the corner to his destination. To his utter delight, Claire stood in a black silk dress with a long V in the front and a tied sash that accented her small waist.

  Madonna mia.

  She has on red heels.

  With her hair up and blonde tendrils grazing her lovely neck, she was stunning. She was also on time. That made two habits she’d already surrendered to him.

  Their eyes locked and she walked down the steps of her large, historic house. Luca left the car running and his door open as he circled to the opposite side. The approaching events now beyond a handshake, he leaned in to kiss her three times on her cheeks. The perfect blend of jasmine and geranium pleased his inhale, and when he pulled back, he smiled.

  “Always beautiful, Ms. Favre.” Luca opened the car door.

  With her chest exposed, he caught the light flush of her skin. “Claire. I thought we’d agreed on Claire.”

  “Quite right. You look perfect, Claire.”

  The soft, dark fabric of her dress brushed against him as she said thank you and gracefully made her way into the car. He closed her in and a wry smile teased his lips. With a hand resting on the button of his jacket, he strode to his side and joined her.

  They rode in silence and he trained his eyes to stay ahead and not gawk at the pale skin exposed to his right. It was within reach. She was within reach.

  Whe
n he risked a glance, he found her staring out of the window as the modern buildings transformed to those full of centuries of stories. Her lovely chest rose and fell at a clipped pace.

  Any other woman would have received his touch. But, unable to know if she would appreciate his hand on her very much visible thigh, he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “Allora, Claire.” He glanced at the traffic light along the side of the road. “Are you prepared for what you will see?”

  “I’m sorry?” She crossed her legs so that the opposite one was on top.

  “Well, it was quite obvious from our initial conversation that you were misinformed about what goes on in my soon-to-be club. I was wondering if you had done any research since then?” And if so, he’d like to hear all about it.

  “No. I haven’t. My eyes have remained virgin to sex clubs.”

  He shook his dark head and turned down the long, traffic-ridden street next to the river.

  “Have you ever watched pornographic videos?”

  The lights of the city twinkled off the water and the car came to a halt.

  “Excuse me?” She’d practically choked on the words.

  “Claire,” he said, turning to her. Thankfully the endearing term he’d wanted to say had stayed on his tongue. “You are about to witness live sex. It’s one thing to see it on a screen. It’s quite another to be in the room with it. The energy will seep into your skin. Your reaction to those three women last week was one thing. What you are about to experience is entirely another.”

  “What do you mean my reaction? I didn’t have a reaction.”

  Luca grinned and fought back a laugh. She didn’t have a reaction? Her body temperature had risen, and she’d practically panted. Hell, he’d thought she might go over and join the trio.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire sat up a little straighter.