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Chapter fifty-one

Samara

Friday, August 28, 2026

I can’t believe we’re really doing this. Our flight leaves in three hours, and Luca will be here any minute to pick me up. I still have not a single clue as to why he even agreed to this in the first place.

No, not agreed but suggested this horrendous idea.

A knock at my door pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Shit,” I whisper-yell to myself, grabbing my bags and heading for the door. When I answer it, Luca’s standing in a thin white button-down with tan linen shorts, looking absolutely delectable, and it sends a damn shiver racing down my spine.

“You know we aren’t actually in DR yet, right? It’s sixty degrees outside right now,” I inform him as if he doesn’t already know that.

“Muscle keeps the body warm, and clearly,” he says, gesturing to his lean physique, “I’m not lacking in that department.” He shoots me an arrogant wink, grabs my bags from me, and heads toward his SUV.

The eye roll that takes over my face can probably be seen from space as I watch Luca carry my heavy bags to his trunk. His muscles bulge as he lifts them in as if they weigh nothing at all. The ease with which he seems to do just about everything annoys me to my core, but I have to remind myself that he’s doing me a favor by even going on this trip. I need to play nice. Just this once.

***

“Okay, so your mom is Camila,and your dad is Kemar, your sister is Vea, and she’s the oldest, right?” he asks me. We just spent the entire drive to the airport going over my family tree.

“Yep, now park over there.” I point to the long-term parking lot ahead.

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, pulling in just as I’d asked.

Once we’re parked, he runs around to my side of the SUV, holding my door open for me. I roll my eyes at him. “You can save that for when my family is actually around to see you, Luca.”

Apparently, it’s his turn to roll his eyes at me. “Princess, I’d hold your door for you whether we were fake dating or not.”

I ignore him, moving out of the seat and around to the back to grab my bags. He takes most of them from me, wheeling his things along with my own and I don’t have the energy to argue with him about it.

Accept the help, Samara. I have to remind myself of that when the need to always be completely independent tries to take over.

I’ve got to let my fake boyfriend do real boyfriend things for me if anyone is going to believe this ruse.

“Come on, principessa ,” he calls over his shoulder, “we don’t want to miss our plane!”

“We’re nearly two hours early,” I grumble under my breath, trekking across the steaming-hot parking lot after him. It’s warmed up a lot in the last hour, but I’m certainly not going to admit that to him.

***

“I swear to god, if you don’t move your arm, I’m gonna chew it off.”

Luca peers up at me through one eye, keeping the other closed, as if I’d believe for a single second that he was actually sleeping.

“We’re in first class, Luca. There’s no reason for you to practically be in my lap right now.”

Both of his eyes are open now, and a wide grin spreads across his face. “But,” he says, leaning farther into my lap, “you’re just so comfy.”

Just when I was almost worried that I may actually like Luca De Laurentiis’s company, he goes and reminds me exactly why I don’t.

“You’re a child. Now get out of my damn lap.” I push his thick arm off me and drop it over the side of my armrest.

He chuckles, leaning back into his seat and pulling his blanket up under his chin before closing his eyes. “You’re grouchy; take a nap.” Before I can respond, he presses his index finger against his full lips and says, “Shh, I’m trying to sleep, princess.”

I want to bite that finger right off, but I do my best to suppress my annoyance and relax back into my seat. I stuff my headphones in my ears and search for a movie to watch for the next few hours.

***

Luca is still fast asleep, and unlike him, I’ve never been able to rest on planes. I don’t trust being asleep with strangers around me, and even in first class, these seats aren’t that comfortable. The flight attendant dropped off complimentary snacks an hour ago, and despite having eaten mine already, my stomach is still growling.

I’m a “three meals a day with snacks in between” kind of gal, and today, I was too anxious to eat before we left.

Luca shifts in his seat, but his eyes remain closed, and I swear I hear his pack of pretzels call to me from his tray.

I don’t even like pretzels, but if Luca thinks I’m cranky now, wait until I haven’t eaten all day.

Actually, screw Luca. I deserve those pretzels for having to put up with his antics all the time.

I blow in his face a few times, double-checking that he’s really asleep, and when he doesn’t so much as twitch, I lean across him, grabbing his pretzels and chocolate chip cookie from his tray.

Sitting back, a small smile forms on my lips as I open the little bag of goodies and pop one crunchy, salty bite into my mouth.

“Fuck you, Luca,” I whisper happily, fighting the urge to kick my feet like a child.

As I bring another pretzel up to my mouth, he strikes. Luca is suddenly in my face, his teeth biting gently into the pretzel I’m holding between my fingers. He snakes his tongue out to pull it into his mouth, chewing before sitting back in his seat with a smug smile.

My stomach drops with the realization that I’ve been caught, but also, something about that whole exchange was so hot, it has my blood singing in the most delicious way.

“You didn’t have to steal from me, Samara. I’m more than happy to share with you,” he says, wearing a grin that makes me want to slap it right off his face. Or kiss it off. Undecided.

“Flight attendants, prepare for landing,” the pilot says over the intercom, the seatbelt signs glowing and my frustrations subsiding. I can’t wait to get off this plane.