Page 92 of Shiver

Chapter seventy-three

Samara

Luca’s text strikes a nerve. Because, regretfully, Idomiss him. And I hate that because it’s the first time in years that I’ve allowed myself to have feelings for a man, and ithadto be Luca De Laurentiis, heartbreaker extraordinaire. He may not intentionally do it, but having hordes of women trailing after him will inevitably weigh on me.

So, for that reason, I delete our message thread and try to get some sleep.

Chapter seventy-four

Luca

Sunday, September 6, 2026

This week, we don’t have dance lessons because the studio is observing Labor Day today, and as much as my sore muscles need the break after the week I’ve endured, I miss the excuse to see Samara. Though I’m not sure she’d come anyway if how aloof she’s been this past week is anything to judge that assumption by.

I’ve texted her a few times and even called her once. She did eventually respond and chalked it up to being busy with work after the weekend away, but I don’t buy it. Samara’s the kind of person who makes time for the things that matter to her, and I don’t appear to be among them.

Despite the canceled dance lessons, Sunday dinner is still in full swing.

Chapter seventy-five

Samara

Wednesday, September 16, 2026

Arielle reached out again about grabbing lunch, and again, I declined. I’m hoping she takes the hint and doesn’t ask again because I wouldn’t be able to say no. Not three times in a row. Especially not since I actuallylikeher.

But her brother-in-law has become a much larger part of my world than I’d ever imagined, and I have a feeling she knows that.

***

I hear a loud knock on my door, one I know belongs to my sister. “Come in!” I shout from the kitchen.

A moment later, I hear the click of the lock as she opens the door, letting herself in.

“Smells good, sis. What’re you cookin’?”

“I need comfort food, so I’m making beans and rice, plantains, oxtail, and I made beef patty that I just need to warm up,” I tell her, rummaging through a drawer for a spatula.

“Really digging into your roots tonight, huh, Mara?” she asks, pulling a blue velvet barstool up to the kitchen island.

“Guess so,” I say, stirring the rice and beans. It’s almost ready, and I’m starving.

“Why the need for comfort? Doesn’t your man comfort you enough?” she asks, a dark brow arched, but I can read it in her expression.She knows.

I roll my eyes, focusing on the task at hand. “Don’t try to bait me. Just say what’s on your mind,” I chide.

She leans forward on the counter, staring me down with her dark-brown eyes. “You and that man aren’t together, but you wish you were,” she muses.

“And I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that,” I say, leaning back against the counter.

“Of course I do.” She laughs. “But I think they might surprise you.”

Well, there goes that. Consider me officially baited.

“Go on.”

“Did you know he told off our entire family?”

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