lunch, so we easily found an empty table and as soon as our asses hit the bench, Anita asked, “What the hell is going on, Remy?”
I felt like I was in the middle of a pagan ritual sacrifice and chanting the Devil’s name was going to make him appear, but I needed to talk to someone about the man. “What do you know about Luca Benetti?”
If these had been happier times, I would have pulled my phone out and taken a picture of Anita’s mouth gaped open, but these weren’t happier times.
She snapped out of her stupor, leaned forward, and her dark blonde brows drew down as she asked, “Why in the hell are you asking me about Luca Benetti?”
I wanted to tell her the truth. I wanted someone to support me in this rabbit hole of a fucking mess, but I could risk her safety like that. If I couldn’t risk my random neighbor’s safety, I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the safety of my only real friend.
So, I lied.
Kinda.
“My car broke down yesterday on my way home from work,” I told her. “I…I had to walk home the rest of the way-”
“Remy, why didn’t you call me? I would have gone to get you,” she chastised. “Plus, Gus would have been able to check out your car.”
“It was late,” I mumbled. “I figured you and your husband were probably in bed already, and I didn’t want to be a bother.”
Anita reached cross the table and squeezed my arm. “Remy, you’re my friend,” she said heartfelt. “You are not a bother.”
I could feel my shoulders sink. “I know,” I said wearily. “But it was only a few blocks-”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “It’s still dangerous for a woman to be walking alone at night.”
This is where the lie came in.
“Well…I wasn’t really walking alone,” I lied straight through my teeth. “A couple of girls were walking ahead of me and I kind of kept in time with them so it would look like we were all together.”
Anita gave me a nod in approval. “Smart move.”
God, I hated lying to her. “Anyway, I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, and they were talking about Luca Benetti.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Lots of people talk about him. It’s kind of hard not to. His family runs this city. Men fear him and women want him. What’s not to talk about?”
I thought back to last night and the way he commanded even the air around us and I could see why men feared him. And then I remembered how his body was pressed up against mine as he licked my tears and fully understood why women wanted him. The man was walking, talking, breathing sex come to life.
When he stood there, looking through my wallet, I had been taking inventory of the killer in my living room. He was almost a foot taller than I was and his dark grey suit did nothing to disguise the built in his shoulders, chest, hips, and legs. His regal bearing and confident posture made a woman want to rip his clothes off.
His hair was so black it shined. His brows matched that inky color, and they had been arched over obsidian-colored eyes. His eyelashes were long and thick, and they were the only thing that added softness to his eyes. His nose was straight, with cut cheekbones and a strong jaw. His lips looked to be the only relenting thing about him.
Luca Benetti looked like a mortal god. A tattooed God from the small images that peeked out from his collar and cuffs from time to time when he’d move.
And a gifted one, at that.
When he had pressed up against me, demanding I say his name, I had felt just how blessed the man was in the bedroom department. His dick had been hard as steel and pressed against my stomach with no shame or apology.
And humiliation had danced across my entire body when I finally whimpered out his name, and the breathy moan wasn’t entirely due to fear. Even if it hadn’t been to save my life, if Luca Benetti had run his hand up my skirt last night, I probably would have let him.
How sick was that?
“Have you ever met him?” I asked.
Anita shook her head. “No. And, quite frankly, I’m not sure if I ever want to,” she said bluntly. “The man’s dangerous. I can’t imagine running into him would be a good thing.”