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Chapter fifty-three

Samara

W e’re finally here, and as nerve-wracking as this whole vacation is, I’m actually kind of excited now that it’s really happening.

My hope is to slip away for a few massages, wake up early to read with the sunrise, and maybe even run off to one of the nearby beaches so I can relax by the water without being seen by my family sans Luca.

“Alright, princess, here we are,” Luca says, dragging me out of my thoughts as he rounds the side of the town car and holds my door open for me.

His bright eyes are striking in the sun, and his lightly bronzed skin is a glowing contrast to his thin white shirt. Luca De Laurentiis is stunning , and as hard as it is to admit to myself, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes off him.

“You ready?” he asks, worry lacing his tone.

I clear my throat, taking his hand to help me out. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Once we’ve tipped the driver, we head into the resort and get blasted with the cool AC. It’s such a stark contrast to the humid warmth outside. Goosebumps break out over my skin, and a chill shivers through me.

“Cold?” Luca asks quietly as we approach the front desk.

I shake my head, turning my attention to the woman seated behind the counter. “Checking in?”

I nod. “Yes, for Luca De Laurentiis and Samara Perez-Allen.”

She turns her gaze toward the computer, typing in the information, and when she gets to it, her eyes light up. She smiles brightly at me as she grabs key cards and pamphlets, getting them all together for us, and slides them across the counter. “You’re all set. Enjoy your upgraded suite—on the house—thanks to a last-minute cancellation,” she tells me with dimpled cheeks. “Enjoy your stay at La Rucia, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“Will do, thank you,” I say, turning to hand Luca a key. He takes it in his large hand before heading down a hallway toward the back of the resort. I follow after him, walking for what feels like forever until we’re standing in front of a massive double-paned wooden door with a fresh floral wreath hanging on it in the shape of a heart.

My stomach drops to my toes.

An upgraded suite.

Luca swipes the key card, pushes the door open, and steps into the beautiful oasis. Or it would be an oasis if we were actually a couple. But as it stands, I’m now looking at the next several days of torture.

In the middle of the room is a massive canopy bed with white linens and a palm-tree-printed duvet. The entire back wall is one mega-size window with sliding doors that lead straight out to a private hot tub, and I can see a path down to the beach from here.

It’s breathtakingly gorgeous, and while I still have a little piece of my sanity screaming at me to be upset, I’m not. That bed is more than big enough, and we can just create a divide with pillows down the center. Problem solved.

He turns around to face me. “Don’t worry, Samara. I can make a bed for myself on the couch. Don’t let this freak you out,” he assures me.

That was oddly… considerate. No. Sweet?

I shake my head. “It’s fine. The bed is massive. Just stay on your side,” I tell him with a pointed stare.

Luca wears a playful grin that toys with my emotions as he says, “Which side am I on, princess?”

“The one closest to the windows.” I groan, resigning as I dump my belongings at the end of the bed.

“Oh, come on, snookums. I know we were waiting till marriage, but this could be a good little test run,” he says playfully, winking when my eyes meet his.

“Just stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,” I remind him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs with his whole body, setting his suitcase on the luggage rack provided by the hotel. He unzips it and meticulously starts putting all of his clothing away in drawers and on hangers.

Something about that just seems so strange and not what I had expected of Luca for the first day of vacation. I’d truthfully expected him to already be at the pool with a drink in each hand.

Our hotel phone starts ringing just as he finishes putting his things away, and he answers on the second ring. “This is Luca.”

A broad smile stretches across his face as he listens to the person on the other end of the line. “I’m looking forward to meeting you too, Mrs. Perez,” he says and a beat later, “Sorry, sorry, Camila .”

My brows shoot up my forehead as I register the interaction. He’s on the phone with my mom!

“Hey, principessa, after we get settled, would you want to meet your family by the pool for an early lunch?” Wow, he’s already laying it on thick.

“That sounds great,” I tell him. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself; I’m so damn hungry.

“She says she can’t wait. See you in a half hour, Camila.” He beams at me before hanging up.

“Alright, princess, get on your skimpiest bikini, and let’s get to the pool.”

I try to play it off, but can’t help the pang of anxiety that bobs around in my stomach. I bought a dozen bathing suits for this vacation and only felt semi-decent in three of them. None of which are a freaking bikini.

Reluctantly, I grab the cherry-red one-piece with the cut-out sides and my white cover-up and head to the bathroom to get changed.

I wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror, and it all hits me at once. I’m really on a vacation with my family for the first time in years , and I’m lying to them about having a boyfriend. I’m a grown-ass woman, and I’m lying to my parents as if they can ground me or something, but the fact of the matter is that I wish it were that simple. Because being grounded is so much easier than seeing the disappointment on my parents’ faces every time I tell them I still don’t have anyone to bring on these vacations with me or even just to bring home for family dinner.

I wet my hands one last time, using the water to smooth my curls up into a ponytail before giving myself one last once-over in the mirror and heading back into the room.

Luca is sitting on the end of the bed, scrolling through his phone when I enter. His eyes lazily lift to look me over but quickly turn into something else entirely.

His smoldering gaze sends heat pooling in my core, and my thighs clench together on instinct.

He runs a ragged hand over his face and cups his jaw. “Jesus Christ, this is gonna be harder than I’d thought.”

I know I shouldn’t, but I ask, “What is?”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Keeping my hands off you when you’re within arms reach, looking like that ,” he says, dragging a hand through the air for emphasis.

The hungry look in his eyes nearly brings me to my knees. I feel unsteady on my limbs from his admission, but it’s best that I ignore it. “Well, it sounds like you’ll just have to practice some self-control,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way I gulp for air. “Are you almost ready? Because I’m starving.”

“So am I,” he says under his breath, standing immediately, putting his cell back in his pocket, and heads to the door. He looks me over with a soft expression and asks quietly, “Are you ready for this?”

I blow out a long breath before nodding, and we make our way out into the hallway.