Chapter 26
Lucia
The café door jingles as I slip inside, and buttery air envelops me like a cozy blanket on a winter morning. Even though I moved to Carlisle only months ago, the scent of cinnamon and sugar offers a crutch I don’t deserve but am quickly craving.
Camille and Marco are waiting in the car, and I’m still pretending that stopping at a café for a pie is a perfectly normal errand for a live-in nanny.Preparing Dante a nice dinner in the hope it would make him feel better wasn’t my idea. Camille suggested it, and I latched on to it, hopeful if I keep busy, I won’t have time to think about anything else.
Luna is behind the counter today. Her long legs announce why she was a favorite in the local strip scene. She’s a beautiful woman who could demand top dollar, but instead she chooses to work at a café for minimum wage.
I haven’t explored her reasoning yet, but I hope to one day follow her path. Waitressing won’t give Gabriele the life he’s used to, but at least it’s honest work.
Luna spots me instantly. “Hey.” She leans forward, a playful smile toying with her lips. “Are you still looking for work?”
My head nods before my brain catches up. It’s a survival instinct.The person I have to be answers before the person I hope to become can intervene.
She joins me at the pie station. “An old client mentioned a private gig next weekend.”
Just like that, my stomach drops. Private gigs always surface out of nowhere when you’re desperate.
“Thanks, but I swore off private parties a long time ago.”
She gives me a knowing look. “I thought you’d say that, but I had to ask. Some dancers are happy to look past their beliefs for ten thousand dollars.”
Ten.Thousand.Dollars.
I shuffle back a step from the five-digit number. Ten thousand would jumpstart the thirty thousand I still need. It could win me a precious moment with my child if I play my cards right. But it could also destroy everything.
“No,” I say again. I aim for my voice to sound firm, but it comes out weak.
I hate that Luna can hear the wobble of my indecisiveness.
Her expression shifts, not in pity or judgment, something in between. “Okay. I respect that.” Her smile reveals that she knows this is hard for me. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Her dainty hand waves around the café. “I’m always here.”
“Thanks.”
I grab the pie, pay, and then head for the door. Halfway out, I snag a newspaper from the stand. I tell myself it’s for the classifieds. That I’m being responsible. But the truth is, I’ve been pretending for days.
This isn’t my life. It’s a far cry from wagyu steaks and lobster, but it’s easy to get swept up in the hype of being needed.
When I slide into an SUV idling at the curb, Marco presses a finger to his lips before nodding toward the back seat. Camille is fast asleep. Her head rests against her booster seat, and her breathing is soft snores. She appears peaceful and innocent, like the darkness of her father’s world hasn’t reached her yet.
I’m not surprised. Dante is different from what I expectedwhen I learned his name. Camille is only four, but he not only respects his daughter’s boundaries but also encourages them. He teaches her it’s okay to say no, and that just because he is her elder doesn’t mean he’s always right.
My father taught me the opposite. The only time I was “seen” by him was when it would benefit him. Those times were generally during functions like the one that finally saw me pushing against the restraints.
He paraded me like an object that could be purchased for the right price. When I thought I’d finally broken free of that, I stumbled into the arms of the wrong man.
“Park for a bit,” I whisper to Marco. “Let her sleep.”
He nods before pulling into a quiet alleyway. While he taps the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio, I open the newspaper and browse the classifieds. I’m not really reading. My heart hasn’t been in this search for the past few days.
That’s dangerous to admit. It isn’t my fault. I get attached too fast. I always have. It’s the downfall of growing up in an unloved environment, and the sole reason I turned down Dante’s offer in the first place. I knew I’d fall into this too easily and too deeply.
Guilt prickles under my skin.
Gabriele deserves better than I’m giving him.
Now I flip through the paper faster, hunting for any sign of a new club opening. Dante may have purchased every strip club in the country, but unless he has a crystal ball, new establishments could still be on the table for me.