Luca's Lessons

by Deana Birch

  Because Liam was never supposed to die. The tugging in her heart brought the pain of her loss back into acute focus. They were supposed to live happily ever after and grow old together.

  The kettle chirped, pulling her back from the darkness that hovered at the edge of her existence. She swiped at the errant tear running down her cheek and poured the scalding water over the round, silver infuser. She wrapped her hands around the delicate blue cup gingerly, avoiding the edges where the handle used to reside and which were still sharp, despite her attempts at filing them.

  Claire carried her drink into the living room, curled her feet beneath herself on the couch and tugged the blanket down from the back. She flipped through the channels, prepared to lose herself in the most ridiculous reality show she could find, when her cell phone rang out from the stand next to the sofa. Excitement warred with irritation when Luca’s name flashed across the screen.

  “So much for respecting my boundaries.” She rolled her eyes and swiped her finger across the glass. “Yes?”

  Silence. Luca’s silence was shrouded in disapproval and she hated the effect it had on her. She immediately wanted to correct her tone. Hell, she wanted to invite him over right this very minute to put an end to her torment.

  “I take it your evening is not going well, Claire.”

  She bit her lip then quickly released it as if he could see her disobedient behavior through the phone. “It’s going fine.” She twisted her mouth to the side. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight. I thought this was a boundary. What did you call it? A ‘hard no’.”

  “Yes, cara.” The deep rumble echoed through her veins. “It is a boundary. It is a hard no. It is a line I will never ask you to cross.” If it were at all possible, his voice dropped another octave and had a power over her she wasn’t comfortable admitting to yet. “However, you are my submissive, my sotto. As we have discussed, your well-being is a top priority to me. Since we are not meeting, I need to check on you to make sure you have…behaved today.”

  She arched an eyebrow. Behaved? As if I am a child? Her anger quickly faded as his words sank in. He was checking on her. When was the last time anyone other than Julien had checked on her? The answer came just as quickly as the question. Liam. Well, Liam when he was well.

  “H-how do you mean ‘behaved’?”

  There was a brief rustling before he responded. “Have you eaten? And I think we’ve already determined when I ask this I am most certainly not referring to your type of dinner.”

  A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I have eaten—beef lo mein and an egg roll.”

  “Very good, sotto.” The affirmation washed over her, and her skin tingled with the praise. “And to drink?”

  He’d told her during a previous lesson that he had no problem with wine—he was Italian after all—but he required his submissives not to drink to excess. To remain poised, in control of their faculties and ready to serve willingly without making decisions they would later regret. “A glass of Pinot and now I’m drinking tea.”

  “And was your Pinot as good as my Barolo, cara?”

  Claire held the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen, needing visual confirmation she was still speaking with Luca Bernardi. Was it possible he was teasing her? “Um, n-no. No, it was not.”

  He sighed heavily. “Confidence, Claire. When you address me within the walls of the club, over the phone or anywhere else we may be together, I want you to speak with confidence. I will never harm you. When you search for words, when you stammer, when your voice quakes, it implies distrust, and trust is the very foundation of this relationship, sotto.”

  The nerves that had been frazzled and frayed all day had calmed as soon as she’d heard his voice, but now they simply disappeared. They were just as helpless to resist the power of Luca Bernardi as she was. Claire was fairly certain the man could lull a prowling tiger to sleep simply by speaking in his authoritative, yet soothing, tone.

  “I trust you.”

  “Very good, cara.” His obvious pleasure washed over her and made her smile. “It is nearly time for bed, sotto. You need to be very well rested for what’s to come tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. The seventh day since her punishment was enacted, the sixth day of her training and the day she would finally be allowed to find some peace with her body. Desire pulsed through her, collecting at her core and making her throb with need.

  “Same time?” She was proud of the nonchalance in her tone when she wanted nothing more than to beg for an earlier meeting, a sooner release.

  “Ah, no, cara. I will pick you up at five and we will have an early dinner first.”

  Dinner? Was she truly supposed to sit across from a man who oozed sex from every pore on his body for an undetermined length of time after he’d spent the past week working her to the brink of orgasm with no relief? No. That was not acceptable or funny or even the slightest bit fair.

  “As you wish.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Luca

  “You’re spoiling her.”

  Luca grinned up into dark brown eyes that matched his own and set his phone on the woven gray couch.

  “I can’t help it,” he said, just above a whisper and with a true smile.

  “You can’t help it.” His cousin Gianna swooped her arms in a massive gesture. “You’re not here every night. The second I take her off her precious Cuca’s chest, she will cry and cry. And who sneaks out the door while I listen to the pleas for Cuca, eh?”

  Luca tucked his chin and shifted his gaze down to the brown-haired angel who mangled his name so beautifully and was indeed snoozing on his stomach. Madonna mia. He’d even welcomed the warm puddle of drool seeping through his shirt.

  Gianna studied her daughter again before saying, “She does love her godfather.”

  “What’s not to love?” Luca, with a wink in his eye and loving the taunt of his younger cousin, kissed the little head for the umpteenth time that day.

  But instead of serving back a zinger, Gianna reclined in her chair and crossed her arms. “One does wonder.”

  He rolled his eyes. Never a girl brought home… Never a date beyond a pointless charitable event—not because they weren’t worthy, not that they were boring, but none of the previous had been… He hated to admit it, even to himself, so he would not. He willed that blonde and her perfect mind and body—an apparently lethal combination—out of his thoughts.

  Luca stretched to his left for the cream throw blanket and covered little Ilaria. With a natural gesture he’d only discovered since he had held her above the holy water in the church at her baptism, his forearm met his goddaughter’s spine and he stood. “I’ll put her down.”

  Gianna rose as well and collected the espresso cups and remaining pink frosting-stained plates from her daughter’s birthday.

  In the privacy of his goddaughter’s room, Luca ran his bearded cheek along the sweaty brow of the toddler. What was that smell? In her three tiny years, it had remained unidentifiable yet intoxicating.

  He pulled back the white duvet with its dusted rose design of her ‘big-girl bed’ and snuggled her in. When she stirred, he stroked her soft Italian locks and sang her their song, the same song his mother had sung to him. Once convinced she was in a deep sleep, he stood and tiptoed out of her room.

  Gianna wiped down the counter in the kitchen and tossed the crumbs into her massive gray marble sink.

  “This is my favorite time of the day,” she said with warm eyes and a contented smile. “Everyone is asleep, healthy and—”

  “Fed,” they said in a quiet unison. Being fed was a staple in their family. Nonna had always assured it.

  “One more coffee?” Luca gestured to her espresso machine.

  “For you?” Gianna reached up and squeezed his cheeks. “Anytime.” After a little shake, she tapped his jaw and busied herself with the grounds and the machine.

  Luca walked over to the breakfast nook in the corner of her kitchen and wait
ed as the coffee hummed its arrival, the aroma of the strong blend reaching him first.

  His goddaughter’s party could not have been on a better day, the distraction a blessing. And while he’d not crossed the line of seeing Claire on her ‘red day’, as he was now referring to it, she had answered her phone—a fact that he not only appreciated but one that had also brought him relief. And even though she seemed so perfect, especially without the risk of love, Claire Favre was clearly haunted. There were hints of it in her eyes and it seeped through her bones.

  Calling her, while risky and a technical loophole he’d sniffed out the second he’d read it, had been mandatory. He needed her to know she was still very much on his mind, even though she was out of sight. His. She was his. For now.

  Gianna slid the small coffee onto the table then sat opposite him. “We have the hospital fundraiser at the end of the month. Antonio changed his plans and can go.” She fiddled with a bracelet to hide the clasp on the inside of her wrist. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to come.” Her dark eyes narrowed and she fought a smile. “I don’t know, Cuca, maybe you could even bring a date.” Her manicured fingers spread, feigning surprise.

  Luca stirred half a sugar cube into his cup, tapped the spoon thrice, took a cautious sip and replaced it in its saucer.

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

  Gianna was torturously predictable.

  “I would love it, Luca.” Her eyes bugged out and her shoulders wiggled. “Shoot me. I want my favorite cousin to be happy.”

  “That’s assuming I’m not. A day with my goddaughter and your cooking? I’m beyond content.” He sipped again, knowing Gianna had more words for him.

  “Do you want me to be happy, Luca?”

  “Always.” The rest of his coffee went down in one quick turn of his wrist.

  “Then bring a date to the fundraiser at the end of the month, someone I can talk to while old women beg my husband and you for more money.” Gianna smacked the table and stood, swiping the small modern cup and saucer out from under him.

  “No need to get cranky.”

  * * * *

  Cranky. He laughed to himself. Poor sotto had indeed been cranky when he’d spoken to her earlier as well. Luca bounded off his heels and stuck his hands into the pants pocket of his suit. A hungry moan brought him back to the hall and the scene in front of him.

  He couldn’t imagine what Caroline Cartier’s sub had done. In truth, he didn’t care, but as she trailed the black leather flogger down his chest in the public punishment room, it was clear the Domme had also surpassed her own level of cranky.

  Spread out and nearly naked, the sub hung his head. The rest of his body formed a perfect X, bound to the impressive dark wood behind him.

  The tasseled ends of Caroline’s whip fanned around his caged cock. In a loud voice, the Domme said, “I bet you’d like some relief, sub. Is that why you thought it wise to look at pornography when I had strictly forbidden you from doing so?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His voice, while quiet, was still confident.

  A Dom next to Luca tugged on the silver-studded leash of his sub, who was on all-fours at his feet. “You may watch now.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” She lifted her blonde head and licked her lips.

  Sir. Three letters that when strung together brought order to his world—and an emptiness to his duties. Where was his own sub? Luca hoped she was snug in her bed sleeping. Resting. Not seeing her for one day had already forced him to move up their scheduled time. He craved the moment he could reward her.

  A crack of the whip snapped his attention to Caroline.

  “Who decides when you come, my pet?”

  The sub swallowed and rolled his shoulders back slightly, the punishment soothing a call from his soul. “You do, Mistress.”

  “Correct.” Caroline’s high red heels clicked against the dark tiled floor as she paced in front of the sub. “And while you may be disobedient, you are honest.” With her free hand, she trailed her black nails down his torso and around to his ass.

  “Tell me, sub. What type of pornography were you watching?”

  “Male, Mistress. Gay men.”

  “I see. Is your Mistress not enough for you? Am I lacking without a cock for you to suck?”

  “No. My mistress is all I need.”

  Whack! The whip smacked his torso and small red traces of contact appeared at its withdrawal.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Luca stepped back from the small crowd and walked as silently as he could to the stairs. There was no doubt in his mind what was next and watching that sub suck cock was not on his ‘to do’ list.

  He knocked on the door to the security office, where he found Max and the two muscle heads who normally flanked the entrance.

  Max nodded his greeting and Luca squinted at the many screens in front of him. A twinge of relief hit when the one designated for Noah Paulick was black.

  “Everything okay?”

  “All good. Calm night. The subs said a lot of their Dom/Dommes are out of town.” Max shrugged and went back to watching the public scene. “If that dude isn’t sucking a dick in ten minutes, Caroline’s lost her touch.”

  “I’m going for a nightcap then upstairs. Call me if anything changes.” Luca smoothed the front of his suit and let himself out of the secure room with his key card.

  At the bar, Gwendelyn, with her long dark hair around her shoulders, twisted a stemmed wine glass in a white bar towel.

  “Hey, boss,” she said with a smile. “Grappa?”

  Luca pulled back a bar stool and sat. “Am I that obvious?”

  “I’d like to think that I’m that observant.” She placed the glass next to its matching counterparts in a perfect line. She might not have known as many drink mixes as Max, but Gwendelyn’s attention to detail was a welcome ending to his day.

  She pulled the grappa and its glass out of the freezer, served up just the right amount and set it under a napkin in front of Luca. He tipped it in her direction and let the cool sting hit his palate.

  With the bar empty and her duties complete, Gwendelyn stayed across from Luca.

  “So…” Her red lips twitched. “New sub?”

  Luca narrowed his eyes. Nosy. Gwendelyn had always been too nosy.

  She raised her hands in a surrender then shrugged. “Worth a try.” The amusement from trying to tease Luca fell from her face. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Elias treating you okay?” Luca set his drink back into the sweat ring on its napkin.

  “The best. You know that.” She smiled but it was brief. “You know that girl you trained not too long ago?”

  “The one you got to play with?”

  Again, a smile flashed then faded on the sub’s pale face.

  “Yeah. Well, I don’t want to get anybody in trouble…” She glanced around as if someone might overhear her.

  Elias may have been her Dom but beating around the bush was not acceptable.

  “Speak, sub.”

  Gwendelyn set her shoulders and looked Luca in the eyes. “She told me she played with Noah Paulick and he took off the condom for anal.”

  A stuttered exhale fogged his glass when he brought it up for another drink. That novice. That fucking irresponsible neophyte. And the information was secondhand. Christ. Now he had to police safe sex? Wasn’t that the entire point of his club? A safe place for sex?

  “I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Relief. He needed some fucking relief. Not only had Claire not come all week, but neither had he—some sort of weird mirroring desire where he wanted his release to be as powerful as hers. And yeah, now he was cranky.

  He set the drink down and flipped his wrist to check the time. Technically no longer Friday night. Another loophole. Worst case, she could say ‘red’.

  Luca pushed the unfinished drink toward the other side of the bar. Situation resolving, he said goodnight to Gwend
elyn and walked to the elevator that led to his top floor residence. On the way up, he closed his eyes. His. She was his. For now.

  A reminder and a release. She wouldn’t deny needing it as much has he did. Hell, she’d whimpered into a puddle Thursday night. And if the lesson hadn’t been so important, he would have considered an early reward.

  He found his phone charging on the counter and scrolled to C.

  Cara.

  He swiped a finger, his decision solidified.

  Three rings. A good sign. Everything good came in threes.

  “Hello?” Claire’s groggy voice brought a smile to his face. She’d been sleeping. “Luca? Is everything okay?”

  “No, sotto.” His grin deepened. “It is not. And it’s no longer Friday night. I want you on your knees, in only white lace panties and next to the bed in my suite in one hour. You can nap tomorrow to make up for your rest.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Her confusion was understandable. He had changed their plans and woken her up.

  “I certainly hope not. A car will fetch you.” Luca’s hand rubbed past his beard and into his shoulders that were already unknotting from the sound of her.

  “Does this mean…?”

  “In my suite. In one hour.”

  She paused and her exhale crackled into his ear. “As you wish.”

  He hung up the phone and placed it carefully on the counter, face down. With a quick roll of his shoulders, his jacket fell off halfway. He finished the job and hung it on one of his bar stools.

  In a large ceramic bowl in the middle of his dark counter, he found a ripe banana and peeled it. Energy. He was going to need it.

  After a shower and a scrub of his teeth, putting a suit back on in the middle of the night when he was most definitely going to take it off—all off—again within thirty minutes seemed futile. Instead, he slipped into the same track pants he’d worn when Claire had been at his apartment and added a tight workout shirt.