Page 57 of Lucas & Melissa Falling in Love
I will accept my role in the Fierro family legacy. Wholeheartedly and with pride.
I say to my mother,” I’ll go to the offices tomorrow first thing.”
She smiles at me. Sabrina’s smile is ringed with concern. Squeezing my arm, Melissa looks up at me and I see in her eyes the one thing that she’s best at expressing: pride.
“Let’s go home now and have dinner,” I say to everyone, waving the two security men over to escort us out. “I’ve dragged poor Melissa half way around the world and we’ve been going since before dawn.”
“You’re such a brute, Lucas,” Sabrina said as we went to the elevator.
“Of course you must be wanting to rest and refresh,” my mother says, giving me atut-tutshake of her head.
“I know, I’m a horrible man,” I say.
“You’ve been on the go since dawn yourself,” Melissa points out as we ride down three flights in the elevator. I take her hand in mine and we step off the elevator into the corridor to the lobby with my mother, Sabrina, and the two security men following us. I feel the energy coming from Melissa, the sensual glow she aims at me, and can’t wait to have her naked in my arms again.
Then as we turn the corner into the lobby, she stops short and tugs on my arm, stopping me. Under her breath she says, “Holy hell. There must be something crazy going on here. I’ve never seen so many photographers.” I follow her gaze to the end of the lobby and the large glass doors. Outside is a huddle of reporters, photographers, and several TV cameras with their red lights blinking. Damn. I should have said something sooner to warn her about this possibility. I lean down and whisper.
“They are the paparazzi.” I take a deep breath. “Andweare the something crazy that’s going on.” I wait a beat and watch her expression show a hint of surprise.
Behind us my mother says, “Lucas, is this okay? Can you handle this?” My mother was never one for the spotlight, preferring to stay behind the scenes even as she runs the Fierro Foundation with Sabrina.
Sabrina says, “I vote we run the other way and sneak out the back door.”
I smile and say, “I’ll arrange for additional security at the desk and take care of it. You wait here.” As I move to the information desk, Melissa slips her arm through mine and comes with me.
I tell them to arrange two more men to accompany us out front and to post two men at my father’s door.
“You can just do that? Order more security and they’ll do it for you?” Melissa whispers in a scandalized tone. I laugh.
“Don’t worry. They’ll bill me.”
I put my arm more firmly through hers and we head for the door to face the press and paparazzi.
“You ready for this?”
“Sure. It’s kind of exciting.”
“And I thought you were a sophisticated New Yorker, used to the sight of celebrities and paparazzi.”
“Sure, I’ve seen them around, but never from the perspective of the target.”
I roll my eyes in an exaggerated way to tease her as I push through the heavy glass door and I’m rewarded with a scoffing laugh. But now my attention is on the crowd that immediately presses forward into us and I hold Melissa against me tightly. The reporters shove microphones, the red lights of the TV cameras turn on and the paparazzi take aim with their cameras. Questions are shouted at us, mostly in Italian with some English sprinkled in. The questions all seem to be variations of the same thing. Is it true that Dante Fierro had a heart attack? Is he alive and will he make it?
Taking a deep breath, I raise one arm to quiet the chaos and speak loudly, in a commanding voice the way my father did it when I was a boy.
“Dante Fierro, my father, is stable and his prognosis is good. The family and I will have an official statement for you tomorrow.” I need to consult with our public relations people and this will buy me some time.
More questions are shouted as I knew they would be and several reporters are directing their shouts at Melissa. In Italian. She shakes her head in response and says, “No comment.”
I laugh and she smiles up at me. She has no idea what they’re asking her, but I do. To answer them, I lean down and give her a lingering kiss on her lips. She’s surprised, but game.
And then the explosion of more pictures and more questions shouted, mostly about me now, and if I’m here to stay and what my role will be in the company now—all questions I’m not going to address, at least not today. I turn and see that the security guards are escorting my mother and Sabrina through the door now, so it’s time to leave.
“Ready to get out of here,” I whisper to Melissa. She nods, a skeptical look on her face.
I call Benedito and tell him to swing by the front doors to pick up Mama and Sabrina. Once Benedito pulls up and I see Mama and Sabrina inside and pulling away, I direct two of the uniformed men to lead us through the reporters so Melissa and I can get to my car.
“This is nuts,” she says, a note of amusement in her voice, as we make a dash and, predictably, the paparazzi follows. They flash their cameras as if their lives depend on shooting every movement we make. The frenzy would be comical if I were watching from afar.
But I’ve been through this before, more than once, and I’m not laughing.
As she falls into the passenger seat and I push her door closed, I hear Melissa laughing.
