Page 44 of My Wedding Mafia Style
“Yes.”
“Right. Of course. I knew that. Because of the door.”
His gaze flicks to my mouth. “The door gave it away?”
“It was either that or a very exclusive broom closet.”
He opens it, and I step inside before I can talk myself out of it.
The room is not what I expect. I don’t know what I expected, exactly. Gold walls. A ceiling mirror. A faint soundtrack of morally questionable jazz. Something absurd and billionaire-adjacent. Instead, Luca’s cabin is elegant and restrained, all warm wood, cream bedding, low light, and wide windows with dark water beyond them. A jacket hangs neatly over the back of a chair. A watch rests on the small table beside the bed. A few papers are stacked with precise edges near a leather notebook.
It looks expensive, yes. But more than that, it looks private and controlled. Very him.
“This is…” I pause, searching for a word that will not reveal how nervous I am.
“Disappointing?”
“No. Very you.”
He closes the door softly behind us. “Is that good?”
“It looks like a luxury hotel suite got emotionally unavailable and went to therapy.”
For half a second, silence. Then Luca laughs. Not a low almost-laugh. Not a polite exhale. A real laugh, surprised out of him, and the sound does something reckless to my heart.
“Oh,” I say softly before I can stop myself.
His smile fades slowly, but the warmth stays in his eyes. “What?”
“You should do that more often.”
“Laugh?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Please don’t make it sound like a business proposal.”
He moves farther into the room, but he doesn’t come too close. Somehow that makes me more aware of the space between us. He gestures toward the bathroom door. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
I look at the sofa. It is sleek, elegant, and clearly designed by someone who has never had hips or regrets.
“That sofa is decorative.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s a punishment with cushions.”
“Lucy.”
“No. If you sleep on that, I’ll feel guilty.”
“If I sleep in thebed, you’ll feel nervous.”
I look down at my hands, smoothing the emerald fabric again. “I already feel nervous.”
“I know.”
