Page 20 of Hard Lessons

“Okay.” He paused. “That sounds good. And it’s remote, right?”

“Yeah, very, nothing else around for miles and the woman I’ve rented it from doesn’t even live in the UK, she’s in Spain. Apparently her mother lived there for years, hermit-like, on her own. Place is a bit old-fashioned, she said, but weatherproof and perfect for a writing retreat.”

“Writing retreat?”

“Yeah, sorry, I know you’re no Shakespeare but I was thinking on my feet.” He laughed. “I could hardly tell her what you really wanted it for, could I?”

Luca rubbed his temple. “And how long will it take to drive there?”

“About twelve hours.”

“Twelve fucking hours? Is the UK even that big?”

“I know, I said I was sorry. But you were quite specific about being somewhere no one else would be, and not leaving a paper trail. Took me a bit of time, you know.”

Luca sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It wouldn’t matter how long the drive took, not really. Once they were there, they were there. Until the matter had been addressed.

“Listen, Luca, I’ve got to go.”

“But—”

“I have to. Sorry, mate.”

“Did you get the note, to give her?”

“Yeah, I did. Listen, Giovanni’s just arrived, okay? Call me tomorrow. I’ll fill you in.”

“Give it to her soon...”

“I will.” He hung up, leaving Luca with an unsettling roll in his stomach and the taste of irritation on his tongue. Usually Paulo would give him an update on her movements, let him know where she’d been, what she’d been up to. He liked to know the details... no, make that heneededto know.

He walked back to his cell, glad that his roommate was out on laundry duty. He wanted to be alone. Sid’s constant chatter would really grate on his nerves right now. And the last thing he wanted was to throw his fists around and extend his stay at Her Majesty’s pleasure, especially this close to the end of his time.

After dragging off his t-shirt, he dropped to the floor and pumped out a hundred press-ups. When he’d finished, his body tingled and adrenaline raced through his veins and arteries. The longing for her, the deep-rooted desire, the ache was physically painful. It had messed with his mind, his body, and his spirit. God only knew how he’d held it together knowing what she was doing while he was stuck behind bars.

But she’d understand his pain.

Soon.

Real soon.

He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. A crack, a lightning streak, went over it. He cupped his ears and started doing crunches. A few hundred might help.

Closing his eyes, he became lost in the burn, entered the zone. As usual all he could see was Serena. Her long dark hair bunched in his hand, the glossy strands springing from between his fingers. Her back arched, the vertebrae evident, her skin laced with the dewy perspiration. Her round ass, the perfect handful and marked with the shape of his palm. Her sweet pussy taking his cock, greedy for it, gripping it.

The way it had the last time they’d fucked.

He upped the tempo, completing crunch after crunch until it hurt. He hurt all over. Being apart from the only woman who’d ever owned his heart was worse than any bullet shot, any knife wound. He needed her the way he needed to breathe.

He blew out a breath through pursed lips. Soon he’d be able to inhale and exhale again. Only a few more days. Hours really. And then he’d have her. She’d be his, at his mercy. There’d be no way for her to dodge the questions that kept him awake at night.

No fucking way at all.

He gritted his teeth and flipped into a plank position, his core as solid as concrete and his biceps and triceps bulging. He started the five-minute count, wishing it would give him relief from ruminating.

Why hadn’t she visited?

Why had she been spending like she’d won the damn lottery?

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