able to be pissed."
"Down in hell, I'd be pissed down in hell," he told me, giving me a smile as his hand went to my lower back, guiding me over toward his car.
His palm wasn't even touching my bare skin, but I swear it burned, ignited, tiny tendrils of need shooting off from the contact, slipping around and down until I needed to press my thighs together as I sat in his car to try to stem the chaos of desire building there.
"Do you live far from here?" I found myself asking, not to fill the silence, but because I genuinely wanted to know more about him, because I found myself a little obsessed with that slow, deep, smooth sound of his voice.
"Not far, no. Over this bridge," he told me, pointing it out.
"On the water, or just in one of the neighborhoods there?"
"On the water," he told me, and my eyes moved over toward those properties.
Mansions.
That was what they all were.
One mansion after another on the Navesink River.
I didn't even want to consider how much a house like that would set someone back. Or exactly what kind of criminal activity could afford it.
We drove down to the end of a long street, coming to another bridge, seeming to lead back where we'd come from, but Luca pulled off right before it into a gleaming, seemingly brand new luxury apartment building.
White stucco and floor-to-ceiling windows made up the exterior, showing me five stories, some with balconies, others without.
"Wow."
It escaped me before I could think to hold it in.
"Perk to having it in the family is I get to live here too," he told me, climbing out.
I knew better than to reach for my own door, knowing he was coming for it, having the feeling he would be insulted if I didn't let him do it for me.
The lobby was wide and somewhat sparse, made up of whites and grays with a small seating area in front of a gas fireplace, a desk with employees to the left, and two sets of elevators to the right.
Luca's hand went to my lower back once again, steering me away from the counter, taking me to the elevators, then slipping a key into the second one.
I can't say I'd ever lived in a luxury apartment building, but I understood enough to know that when someone had a key to the elevator, they also had the key to the entire top floor.
Luca lived in the penthouse.
Overlooking the Navesink Bank.
Maybe it wasn't one of those five-million-dollar mansions, but I imagined it was still a million-dollar home.
I found that intimidating at best as we rode up the quiet elevator, as I watched it slide open into his apartment.
The entire space was open, bright. The floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the morning sun.
The walls were white, the carpet in the living space near the covered balcony was cream and gray, the couches cream as well, facing a massive TV against the opposite wall.
The kitchen was in the main, open-concept space as well, a long galley design with gray cabinets and white countertops, the stainless steel appliances gleaming and fingerprint-free.
"You live in a show house," I told him, shaking my head, finding it hard to believe someone actually lived in a space like this, that it existed as anything other than a space where pictures were taken for magazines.
"It's a little cold, I guess."
"No, it's not cold," I objected, doing another turn, taking it all in. "I just don't see any touches of you here is all."
"That's true," he agreed, nodding. "It came furnished. I don't spend much time here, so it never bothered me enough to change anything."
"It's a lovely home, Luca," I told him, feeling like he needed the reassurance.
"Let me show you the rest of it," he offered, guiding me down the hall beside the kitchen. "Half bath," he said, opening the first door. "Then the guest room. Your room," he specified, opening the next door, pushing it open.
Much like the living room, it was impeccably decorated with a full-sized bed covered in a black and white comforter and about half a dozen decorative pillows.
"There is a bathroom through here," he told me, waving toward the closed door. "Then across the hall is me," he added, going toward the door, giving me space. "I can't bring any of your things from the other house. Or send any of my men to pick things up. But I can lend you something for tonight. And then see if I