Keeley's POV
What in the actual fuck, am I doing? Am I- am I flirting?
Hell, I'm flirting with some extremely good-looking, Italian man I just met. But my God, that boy was made of something else entirely.
The first thing I had noticed about him were his eyes. Within those dark ocean colored, sparkling orbs, I could see every single emotion that he was feeling so freely, and from that, I could see how I affected him just as much as he did me. His strong frame towered over me as I stood in front of him, but it let me see every fine detail on his face. His sharp jawline was shadowed with the smallest amount of stubble and his nose was slightly crooked from what I'm guessing to be a few broken noses. His tousled ebony hair was slightly out of place from where his hands had probably run through it. He was captivating. From the way he simply just carried himself to how he appeared to wear his heart on his sleeve, it made me want to know everything about him. And I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare the hell out of me.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, and I look like I just walked off a horror movie scene with the amount of blood on my body. I look like a madwoman. My hair was wild and matted with dark crimson, and my face wasn't much better. A deep purple and blue bruise had formed over my right eye and temple from where I had taken a hit. I couldn't see the side of my neck due to my hair and all of the blood. My clothes were sticking to me and were damp with various bodily fluids. The only thing I liked about my appearance was my eyes. For the first time in what seems like forever, they look alive. I'm a hot mess, but I feel good, and I'll take that any day.
I peel the blood-stained clothes off of my body and set them in a different hamper, knowing damn well I'll have to send them to my father's dry cleaners. I step into the hot shower and let out a small moan at how good the water feels on my skin. I let my muscles relax as I scrub my body till the water is no longer red.
I wrap a towel around my aching body, brush my teeth, and walk to my closet. I have no idea as to why I suggested going to that French restaurant. Not only is it expensive, but it requires me to dress nicely, and as of right now, I would really prefer to just put on a pair of sweats.
Much to my inner-protest, I slipped on one of my favorite black dresses that reached mid-thigh and had long, mesh, black-lace sleeves. Between the deep, scalloped neckline and the way it flowed, I felt undeniably pretty. I paired the dress with a pair of thick black heels and a simple silver coin necklace Brady had given me for my birthday last year.
I quickly pulled a few pieces of hair back into a twist and secured it at the back of my head, followed by applying makeup so I could hopefully hide how bad my bruise actually was. My neck looked fine, but I found a large enough band-aid and stuck it to where I had been grazed.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and stared at the girl who I saw. She was glowing. The way she stood tall only added to the confidence that was radiating off of her. This girl looked like no one could stand in her way. It had been a long time since I felt this way. I did something good today, even though it did require killing people, but knowing that I made my father proud warmed me, and for just a second, made me feel like I actually belong here.
I look at the small clock that sits on my bathroom counter, and my eyes went huge. It's now about eleven and I have taken way too long to get ready. I hastily shove my phone, wallet, keys, and gun into my purse before kissing Gus and rushing out my door.
However, in my moment frenzy, I don't notice the muscled Italian body right outside my door with his arm in the air until my body hits his. I prepare myself to land flat on my face, yet it never comes. I open my eyes slowly only to be met with a pair of stormy blue ones. Luca.
His woodsy and masculine scent envelops me as I take in his all-black dress pants and button-up shirt with a thin silver chain dangling from his neck. His broad chest pushes at his custom-tailored shirt as each of his breaths become more labored than the last. I force my eyes back to his and I notice they have considerably darkened. Neither one of us speaks as all we can do is take each other in.
"I was-um," he clears his throat as it was considerably low and laced with his heavy Italian accent. "I was sent to come check up on you and see if you were ready for lunch."
I just stare at him until it hits me that I am still looking up at him from where I am dipped in his arms. I slightly cough before gaining my composure and standing back up. His gentle yet strong hands remain on my back as I gaze into those startling ocean eyes I have already grown so fond of.
"Yeah, sorry. I lost track of time," I finally manage to say. He gives me a slight nod, but neither of us makes any attempt to actually move.
It was finally me who unwillingly looked away and stepped out of his hold. "We should get going," I say without meeting his eyes. He looks at me looks almost as if he can see right through to everything I try to hide, and I'm not sure how to feel about that.
His eyes snap back into focus as his head slightly shakes. A small smile graces his lips as he follows me down the hallway and to the foyer where everybody else awaits.
"Keeley, the hell do you think you're wearing?" Nick snaps at me the moment I step off of the last stair. I look at him and see that he is dressed similarly to how everyone else is. They all wear black dress pants with a crisp button-down shirt and dress shoes. Might I say they actually look good.
"For fuck's sake, Nick, we aren't having this discussion yet again. I have made it very clear that I'm going to wear what I want to wear."
Stefano lets out a small laugh but quickly covers it up with a cough. He knows me well enough to know I don't listen to anybody if I don't want to.
"Let her be, Nick. She looks nice," Callan's gruff voice breathes out. The Moretti's look a little startled at the sound of Cal's hoarse voice. My guess is that he hasn't spoken to any of them since they arrived a couple of hours ago.
"How about lunch, yeah?" my father steps in, trying to keep the peace. This seems to have become an everyday discussion where Nick tells me I need to change and someone has to step in before I tear his head off.
"We'll have to take a couple of cars considering there's eleven of us. Stefano and I will go in my car. Callan, take your brothers, Giovanni, and Matteo because your car can hold quite a few people. Luca, you'll ride with Keeley. Good? Let's go."
My mouth is slightly agape as all of the mafia men start to walk out of the house. Great. Now I'm stuck with one of the only people on earth who can make me feel like a pile of mush.
I follow Luca out of the house and lock the door before closing it tightly. "The Hummer is mine," I tell him as he looks around. He nods his head and together we walk to my car and get in.
We've only been on the road a few minutes, but I can't get over how attractive Luca makes just sitting their look. He has rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and it has my mind doing funny things.
Snap out of it, Keeley. You don't do relationships.
"So, tell me something about yourself," I tell him hoping I come off as friendly and not as desperate as I think I do. His eyes shoot over to me for a moment before returning to the road ahead of us.
"Not much to tell. I like to think I'm a pretty normal guy, you know, besides the whole mafia assassin thing." I let out a small laugh because I can tell that he is anything but.
"You laughing at me?" he says while feigning hurt. His hand slaps over his chest and his mouth drops open, causing another laugh to escape me.
"I just find it hard to think that you're "normal." That's all, really," I tell him as I send a quick glance his way.
"Okay then, Keeley. Tell me something about you. Something interesting." His body is leaning up against the corner of where the seat and the door meet, and he is staring at me with a smug look plastered on his handsome face.
"Well," I think for a moment as my gaze is on Callan's car in front of me, "I really hate peas."
He goes quiet for a second before I glance over at him. He lets out the loudest yet most beautiful laugh I've ever heard. It fills the air and I find myself letting out a small laugh with him. "What?"
"I asked for something interesting, Keeley," he finally manages to say. A bright smile is on his face, showcasing his pearly white teeth. "You not liking peas, as much as I agree with you, is not what I had in mind."
"Okay, then what do you want to know?" I ask without even realizing all of the awful things he could actually ask me to tell him.
He pauses for a moment before he finally speaks, "What is one memory that makes you laugh the most?"
Well, I wasn't expecting that, but a small smile crosses my face as I remember one of my favorite stories. "I remember, once, that when I was back at military school, my team and I were allowed one free day off base. We all decided to try and be typical teenagers, instead of our unruly selves, and we went to the closest mall. That, however, didn't really pan out like we had hoped, though." A small chuckle escapes me as I peek over at Luca. He's looking at me like the words that are coming out of my mouth are the air he needs to breathe, and for some odd reason, that look makes my stomach erupt with all sorts of weird feelings.
"The car the school had lent us broke down in the middle of nowhere. I remember all of us piling out and trying to figure out what had happened, even though none of us knew a thing about cars. One of my best friends, Brady, was trying to be all serious and mature about this whole situation, but in the middle of his little shpiel, it started downpouring." A carefree and loud laugh escaped my lips.
"Within minutes, everything had turned to mud. My friend, Dylan, went to go walk around the car to get inside, but he slipped in the mud and fell down this huge hill. Me, being the idiot I was, went to try and catch him, but he decided to take me down instead. I remember him and me flying down that hill and somehow managing to hit every single thing in our path. The other three, Brady, Lexi, and Alice, tried to help, yet that only resulted in them falling down the hill too. The one thing I remember most though," I laugh, " is the fact that once all of us stopped moving and just looked at each other, none of us could stop laughing. We were all cold and covered from head to toe in mud, but none of us cared because we were free. And that was a pretty damn good feeling."
When my laughter finally dies down, I look over to where Luca was and his eyes were swirling with warmth as a radiant smile stretched across his face. "You know, I didn't picture you as a delinquent, Ms. Military-School."
I shot him a quick smile. "Well, what can I say? I like to piss people off and use violence to solve my problems."
A deep belly laugh slips from his mouth and I can't help but join him. "So tell me, Mr. Moretti, what's your favorite memory?"
***
By the time we arrived at the restaurant, Luca and I were both in tears from laughing so hard. I had learned over the course of the hour drive that his favorite color is green, he's 19, he hates sheep with a passion, works for his dad as an assassin, and is a secret bookworm. Oh, and that he enjoyed messing with his brothers just as much as I enjoyed messing with mine.
"So you're telling me," I laugh as we step out of the car, "you got your ass handed to you on a silver platter by a twelve-year-old girl because you called her a "twerp"?"
He gave me an exaggerated look like he was offended, but I really knew he wasn't. "She caught me off guard and was completely vicious, Tesoro. You would have been pretty spooked, too."
(darling)
Tears were falling from my eyes from laughing too hard as I kept trying to a 17-year-old Luca getting beaten up by a twelve-year-old. We walked together to where our families were, me crying and him silently chuckling.
"The hell, Luca? You made the poor girl cry?!" Giovanni yelled. Everyone turned to us and I tried to speak up, but you know that when you laugh so hard no noise comes out? Yeah, that was me right now and all I could do was slap Luca's arm in an attempt to keep myself from falling over in laughter. Really, the story itself wasn't that funny, but the way he told it made me think it was the best thing in the world.
All of the boys started yelling at him and poor Luca didn't even know what to say. "Guys, calm down," I manage to say after taking some deep breaths. "I'm laughing at a story he told me."
All of them calmed down and after further reassurance that I'm fine, we all started to walk inside. Luca's hand urged me forward as it pressed lightly on my low back, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me all warm inside.
We are lead to a long table in the middle of the dining room. The dining room itself was like a scene from a movie. The floors were dark brown, as were the tables and finishes. Dim lighting filled the high ceiling room as shades of yellow and cream were painted on the wall. Rod iron Juliet balconies surrounded the few windows as fake ivy lined the wooden beams on the ceiling. This room screamed elegance.
Luca pulled out a chair for me, and after saying my thanks I sat down with him next to me. My father sat at one end of the table while Stefano sat at the other. I was sandwiched between Nick and Luca with Callan sitting beside Nick. Finn, Giovanni, Matteo, and the twins were across from us.
"This is a very beautiful restaurant, Keeley. Good choice," Stefano said while sending me a knowing look. I'm confused at first, but remember how the first place Stefano took me when I was assigned to work with him was a small French cafe with the absolute best pastries I'd ever had.
I return the look to him with a small smile.
"Hello, my name is Gabriel, and welcome to Bella. I'll be your waiter tonight. What can I get you started with?" our waiter speaks with a heavily laced French accent.
The men order first, and when it becomes my turn, the waiter falters the tiniest bit. "Et pour toi, ma belle?" he asks. I'm not sure how he knows I speak French, but I run with it.
(And for you, beautiful?)
"J'aimerais un verre d'eau." The whole table looks at me wide-eyed when I respond in French, but the waiter only gives me a small smirk. He nods his head and walks off, leaving me to face the stares of these giant men myself.
(I would like a glass of water.)
"Since when do you know French?" Sam asks in shock.
"I've known it for a while," I shrug wishing that I really had that water right now so I wouldn't be the center of their attention.
"So you speak Italian, Latin, and French?" Matteo's curious voice asks.
"Well, I speak eight languages: English, Spanish, French, Italian, Russian, Latin, Dutch, and Scottish Gaelic." I look around the table and everybody's face is filled with either shock or confusion.
Languages have always been easy for me. At Mount Reform, the more languages you know, the more missions you are qualified for. Whenever I wasn't busy with chores, missions, or training, I was in the library learning. I mean, Stefano taught me Italian and I learned Russian from elsewhere, but most of the time I would read books in different languages to learn.
"Your drinks," our waiter spoke while setting them down in front of each of us. Thank God.
After he took our orders, all of us fell into separate conversations and things went back to normal.
"You know, Tesoro, I'm not going to lie, you speaking eight languages is pretty attractive," Luca told me in a low voice. I tried not to show him how much his words affected me, but ultimately I could feel a slight blush cover my cheeks.
"Do you now?" I ask and surprisingly, my voice comes out confident and sarcastic. He sets his left arm on the back of my chair and leans closer to me. His woodsy scent fills my nose and the thin silver chain that lays around his neck shifts off of his chest to dangle in front of him.
"Tell me something, Keeley. Diriez-vous que c'est intéressant que je parle aussi français?" he asks me in French. His dark ocean eyes are dancing with amusement as he searches my face for my reaction.
(Would you say it's interesting that I also speak French?)
I sit up straighter and a lazy smirk crosses my face. I turn to face him and he is much closer than I thought. Just two inches and my lips would be touching his.
"È interessante," I tell him in his native tongue. I can tell my eyes are alive and wild when I look at him. "Ma quello che mi intriga di più è il modo in cui la tua mano destra è nel burro."
(It's interesting. But what intrigues me most is the way your right hand is in the butter.)
His dark ocean eyes go wide as he whips his head to the table, where he did in fact have his right hand sitting in the bowl filled with little circles of butter.
"Shit!" he yells quietly. Luca yanks his hand out of the butter, but the ceramic bowl falls over and all of the little butterballs go rolling all over the white-clothed table. I burst out into a fit of giggles, trying to keep my voice down. Nobody even realized what was going on because they were enveloped in their own conversations, but when Nick sets his elbow on the table and straight into a butterball, I fucking lose it.
I burst out into laughter and tears spring to my eyes as I watch Luca's face go pale and the tips of his ears go bright red in embarrassment. I slap my hand down on the table and if they weren't looking before, they definitely are now. Luca is rushing to collect the dozen or so balls of butter that are spread across the table, and this for some reason only makes me laugh harder.
"Luca...what are you doing?" Stefano asks obviously confused as to why there's butter piled in his hand and why I'm now just shaking as no noise is coming out.
"He's-he's just a little hungry," I spit out while continuing to laugh as the blush is now slowly creeping up his neck. He shoots me a look and I look back to where Nick is. He's still oblivious to the butter on his elbow.
"Nick, you've- you've got a little something," I laugh as I bring a hand up to my mouth to stop me from going into another fit of giggles.
Everybody's gaze slowly moves from me to Nick's elbow as he lifts it off the table. Nobody says anything for a moment, and we all just stare at his elbow.
Then all at once, the entire table bursts out laughing. Nick's bewildered gaze is stuck on Luca whose face is the epitome of embarrassment.
After a minute or two, the laughs subside and I can finally catch my breath. We all sit in a comfortable silence
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