Page 5 of Hard Lessons

“I am.” She was already dragging her knickers and pants up. After fastening them she slipped on her bra and blouse.

Luca did up his black jeans, but didn’t bother with his t-shirt. He strode to the door, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling. He paused at the small table in the hallway, picked up his gun and slid it into the waistband of his jeans so it sat at the base of his spine.

Quickly Serena patted her hair, hoping she didn’t have the just-fucked look. Their visitor could be any number of people come to welcome Luca onto English soil—or not.

She hoped they were friendly acquaintances, but it wasn’t wise to presume. Clearly Luca wasn’t taking any chances.

Not that Luca wasn’t more than capable of looking after himself. Hell, he’d brushed shoulders with some of the worst of the Mafiosi in Rome, some of whom had been on his side, some he’d had to square up against.

He was tough, skilled, and, if he needed to be, ruthless. The guy had grown up with drugs and arms being dealt in the room next to his bedroom. His father—may his soul rest in peace—had lived into his seventies at the center of an organized crime ring and never been caught by the police or a bullet. Sadly he hadn’t been so lucky at dodging cancer.

But a friendly visit—no bullet dodging—would be a good start to London life. Luca would be an asset to Cosa Nostra business here. With his bulk, disregard for getting down and dirty when necessary, and his keen, sharp mind, he’d be welcomed with open arms.

Linking her fingers, she walked to the kitchen area. She hoped a lucky streak would come Luca’s way and he’d be able to stay below the cop’s radar. Attention from uniform wasn’t something either of them needed right now. A quiet life, with a few low-key jobs for his uncle; that would suit them well. She wanted to be able to relax in her new home. See the sights, enjoy the shopping, perhaps some of the nice spas and restaurants that she’d read about in glossy magazines.

“Luca, finally.” A deep, heavily accented voice boomed through the apartment.

Serena shut the cupboard door on a stack of containers holding rice, cereal, and pasta. In the next she found a wineglass then opened the refrigerator. It was also fully stocked including a nice cheese board from Selfridges. Pulling out a bottle of Pinot, she turned at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor.

“And you must be Serena, what a pleasure.”

A short bald man held out his hands. His smile was wide and his cheeks rosy. His nose and ears were too big for his head. Flanking him were two beefy guys with grim expressions and faces that reminded her of bulldogs. One had a beard, the other clean-shaven but with a tattoo of a cross on his right cheek, just below his eye.

“Serena, this is my uncle, Giovanni Bianchi.”

“Wonderful to meet you.” She stepped up to him and he kissed each of her cheeks. His cologne was strong and spiced.

His grin widened and he clasped her shoulders. He gave the impression of a cuddly bear, though it would be foolish to think he wasn’t as dangerous as an angry, cornered viper. “Nephew, you have done very well for yourself, your beautiful lady is a goddess.”

Serena laughed.

“You’re right.” Luca slipped his hand around her and pulled her from his uncle’s grasp. “She is a goddess, and also bewitching, enchanting, and the love of my life.”

“Which makes you a very lucky man.” Giovanni squeezed Luca’s shoulder. “And I would like to invite you both to my home tonight for spaghetti, Maria’s old family recipe.” He tapped the side of his nose. “A secret recipe.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Luca squeezed Serena a little closer. “Doesn’t it,mio amore?”

“Yes.” Serena really wanted to stay in their new home, recover from their journey, have Luca to herself, but that would have been rude. Refusing to attend dinner at the Bianchis was not an option.

“But right now,” Giovanni said, nodding at Serena’s wine, “I’m afraid that will have to wait; there is business to attend to.”

Serena held back a frown. They’d only just arrived and Luca was having to go off with Giovanni on business? It didn’t seem fair.

“Understandable.” Luca nodded. “Always work to be done.”

Giovanni’s attention stayed on Serena. “And you will do very nicely for this job.” His grin broadened. “You’re justhistype.”

“Whose type?” Serena asked, not liking where this was going.

Luca tensed.

“David Watson, distinguished Member of Parliament representing Peckham, only from the back benches of course, but still, he’s an MP, which means he has power. Power I like. Power I need.”

“Go on,” Luca said, his voice tightening.

“David Watson is an MP who until recently was behaving himself.” Giovanni turned and walked to the window. A bulge in the material covering his lower back showed he was also carrying. “Great view, don’t you think?”

“Si, we really appreciate the apartment,” Luca said. “It’s great.”

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