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Chapter fifty-four

Luca

W e make our way out to the pool, where there’s a restaurant attached, and I see a family that rivals my own in size and know it must be Samara’s. I recognize their faces from our little family lesson, and several of the women have her same beautiful curls too. I couldn’t miss those anywhere.

When one of the older women sees us heading in their direction, she throws her hands up. “Mara! My baby girl and her man are here!”

Samara tucks her chin, looking a little embarrassed by the faces we’re getting from those hanging around the pool.

When we reach her mom, she throws her arms around me immediately, squeezing the life out of me before grabbing my cheeks for a big kiss on either side. Damn, she’s stronger than she looks. I return the gesture, familiar with this type of greeting from my own family. “You must be Luca. We’ve been dying to meet you!”

I give her a wide smile. “And you must be the beautiful Camila.”

She pretends to fan herself with a playful smile and says, “Such a charmer,” before looking to Samara and adding, “You’ve got your hands full with this one.”

She winks at me, and I hear Samara say, “You could say that again,” just loud enough for me to hear. I pinch her on the back of the arm, pulling her out of her doom spiral. Blazing eyes sear up at me. “What was that for?” she whisper-screams.

I smirk at her, heading to greet the rest of her family. They each take turns hugging us and introducing themselves. If I hadn’t spent a solid three hours the other day going through Samara’s social media accounts so I could match faces to names, I’d be unbelievably lost.

This must be how everyone feels meeting my family.

“Come on, come sit down.” Her sister, Vea, instructs us to sit beside her, her husband, and their children.

Shortly after, the waitress brings out menus for everyone.

Samara bites her lip as she looks over the menu, her eyes flickering back and forth between her mom and sister.

I lean into her, keeping my voice low as I speak. “Having trouble deciding?”

Her eyes flit up to mine. “I want the coconut shrimp, but the grilled mahi-mahi with tostones sounds good too.”

My brows pinch as I tilt my head. “Just get both.”

She shakes her head. Those pretty curls framing her face fly around, and I catch a whiff of her signature scent. I fight the groan working up my throat at what it does to me.

“That’s too much food,” she tells me quickly, straightening in her seat.

“Fine, I’ll order the coconut shrimp and the hot honey and pepperoni flatbread, and you can have as many of my shrimp as you want. Sound good?” I don’t really get what the big deal is. We’re on vacation, and coconut shrimp are basically an appetizer, but the panic written across her face when she looks to where her mother sits makes something very clear to me.

She’s uncomfortable.

I’ve genuinely never seen this side of Samara in the months that I’ve known her. She’s been nothing but headstrong, self-assured, confident, and sassy, uncomfortable on occasion but never like this. Ever since we landed here, she’s been the opposite. She’s acting all timid and looks like at any moment she might shatter, and it fucking breaks my heart to see.

I settle my hand on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and revel in the fact that she can’t push me away with her family watching. It’s a serious misuse of my newly found powers, but I think I just love having my hands on her.

After the waitress takes everyone’s orders and collects our menus, the string of excited questions begins.

“Suh, Luca, wah yuh do fah a living?” her dad asks.

“I’m a goalie for the Philly Scarlets hockey team, sir,” I tell him from across the table.

“So wah mek yuh choose hockey?” he asks.

A small smile turns my lips. “To tell you the truth, I just wanted to do whatever my older brother was doing when I was a kid but ended up really loving hockey and stuck with it.”

“Do you have any kids?” Camila asks me, and I see Samara tense up from my periphery.

“Yeah, I have a daughter. Her name is Giavanna.” I smile, pulling my phone out of my back pocket to show everyone photos of her.

They smile and tell me how cute she is, but her father’s brows are pulled taut as he eyes me quizzically. “Shi nuh fayvah yuh, shi a even six months hul yet. How lang ave yuh an har madda bin separated?” 1

I go to open my mouth, but Samara stops me, squeezing my hand on her thigh. “Dad, that’s not a conversation for now, and it isn’t any of your business. They’re co-parenting beautifully, and it’s really wonderful to see, especially in my line of work.” Her approval, even if disingenuous, warms me to my core. I’m always so worried that I’m messing everything up with Gia because I have no idea what I’m doing.

He puts his hands up in surrender, smiling brightly at me. “Aright, aright. Eff yuh get di stamp ah approval fram mi hard-ass dawta, mi will mind mi owna biznizz.”

Camila cuts in before I can say anything. “How’d you two meet?”

Samara groans beside me. “He was my client.”

That’s all she says. Nothing more. No further explanation.

Her family all look at her expectantly, so I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “I was her client, and as much as she tried to deny our chemistry…” I pause, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I fought tooth and nail for her attention, and finally, I won,” I tell them with a wink at Samara.

“Mi dawta let yuh win something?” Her dad laughs. “Dat nuh soun like ar at alla.” 2

Samara rolls her eyes. “Maybe I wanted him to win," she says. If only that were true.

The waitress came by and took our orders, and I couldn’t help but notice that Samara was staring at her mother the entire time she ordered. Her shoulders relaxed when the server finally left.

Overall, lunch went pretty well, but I’m excited to get back to our room for a little downtime. I can absolutely understand what she’d been talking about with her family being a little exhausting in large doses.

As we’re all standing to leave, everyone starts chattering about what they plan to do with the rest of the day. Camila turns to Samara and me, asking, “You two going to join us at the main pool?”

I immediately cut in, hoping to give Samara an out if she wants it. “I was actually going to get my daughter on a video call for a little while, and I know Samara loves seeing Gia, so I was hoping she’d join me,” I say, turning my full attention to Samara.

She gives me a warm smile, and her eyes crinkle in the corners. “That sounds great,” she tells me before turning back to her mom. “You okay if we go out on our own for a while and meet you all for dinner later?”

Camila’s eyes bounce back and forth between us but finally settle on Samara. “Not at all. You two have fun. I look forward to seeing more pictures of your daughter at dinner tonight,” she tells me with a bright smile before heading back into the crowd of her family.

Samara and I walk in the opposite direction as her family, and I can’t help but slip my hand into hers. It isn’t too dainty, so it doesn’t feel like I’ll break her. She fits just right in the palm of my hand, my fingers entwined with hers as she surprisingly lets me lead her back toward our room.

The moment we’re inside, she pulls out of my grip. “Thanks for that,” she says, and her eyes look a little glassy.

“Anytime, princess. What would you like to do now that we’ve gotten away from your family?”

She flops down on the bed, tossing her forearm over her face. “I just want to read and lie by the pool.” She groans.

“Well then, let’s do that,” I say, confused as to what all the groaning is about.

“If I go outside, they’ll find me,” she says, sounding so damn dramatic it makes a laugh burst out of me.

She squints at me, trying to hold onto her frustration, but when her eyes meet mine, I swear I see her soften.

I look over to the private pool on our patio, and unfortunately, she’s right. It’s fucking gorgeous, but the gate surrounding us doesn’t provide a lot of privacy, and it’s overlooking one of the main pools.

She deserves to enjoy this vacation. As much as I know she’s going to have to balance being around her family with having time to herself, I don’t want her to have to spend it hiding inside this room, no matter how gorgeous it is in here. I’ll figure it out just as soon as I check in on baby Gi. I’m trying out new nicknames, so sue me.

“Alrighty then, I’m gonna call Cici and see if she and Gia are free to chat for a bit.”

She nods, so I pull out my cell and try for Cici, who finally answers after several rings. Her pink cheeks and blonde bun fill the screen, the sun shining overheard making it difficult to make out where she is. “Luca, hey! Do you mind if we call you back in a bit? We just got to the park by my house, and I don’t want to take my eyes off her.”

“That’s totally okay. Call me when you can,” I assure her, and she smiles before hanging up.

I’m surprised she felt comfortable taking her out of the house, but I’m glad she did. I’m even more pleased that it’s the park inside her community.

As my eyes skim over Samara, an idea hits me for how to salvage her plans for the day without having to worry about her going to a beach by herself because she absolutely would leave me here if given the option.

“Do you need anything from the front, princess? I’m gonna go grab something real quick.”

She shakes her head. “No, thanks. I think I’m actually going to take a shower or maybe a nap.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I make my way toward the front desk, careful to check every hallway I pass for any signs of her family. I wouldn’t want to lead them back to her.

When I get to the desk, I’m greeted by two smiling faces whose eagerness to help me sends unease sinking into my gut.

“What can we help you with?” one of the women asks, leaning across the desk, clearly using her arms to push her breasts forward.

In another life, I’d not only look but flirt and probably wind up with her in my bed later. Maybe even both of them. But now? All I can think about is getting back to my room and making sure Samara actually enjoys this vacation.

These women do nothing for me. Hell, no one has since I met Samara, and I’m not ready to think about that too hard.

“Could I get a bunch of flat sheets for the bed?”

“A bunch?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

I nod. “Yeah, like ten of them.”

Her brows lift as she rises to her feet, but luckily, she doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. “Sure, one moment.”

She heads to the supply closet and comes back with an arm full of white flat sheets. “Thanks,” I tell her, heading quickly to my room with the sheets in my arms.

Samara isn’t in bed, but I hear the water running in the bathroom, so I get to work.

I step out onto the patio and start lining the gate with the sheets, tying them at the top and bottom to keep them from blowing away. When I’m all done, I set up the chairs, laying out towels on each of them.

There’s a small sign on one of the tables with a QR code for the hotel’s room service, so I sort through it and order a bunch of random snacks and drinks.

When I get back into the room, my heart is racing, and my eyes are wide. “Fuck,” I say, but it comes out sounding more like a prayer.

Samara is standing in the middle of our room, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Her long curls are soaking wet, hanging down her back, and her gorgeous almond-colored skin is still damp and glistening.

I watch as a bead of water trails down her neck and between her breasts. The urge to lick it off her skin is overwhelming.

She stands, staring at me, unmoving. Her plump lips are parted in surprise.

A knock at the door drags us both out of our thoughts, and our eyes snap to the door. “Shit, they found me,” she groans out.

I chuckle. “No, they didn’t. I got us room service. Go get your bathing suit back on, please. You’re too damn distracting in that towel,” I tell her as I head to the door. Not that her in a bathing suit is any less distracting.

To my utter shock, she actually does as I ask.

I wait until she slips back into the bathroom before opening the door for room service. A man dressed in a palm-tree-print button-down and khakis greets me. “Hello, sir. You ordered room service?”

“Yes, thank you. Would you mind setting it up by the pool?”

“Of course, sir.”

A few minutes later, he has me sign the bill and heads out. I knock on the bathroom door. “The coast is clear, princess.”

I hear it unlatch, and she steps out, this time wearing a black one-piece with a deep V-cut that has my mouth fucking watering.

“Jesus Christ.” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut, and rub my hand over my face. She ignores me, heading into the closet to grab her bag. I watch her as she sorts through it, and finally, she grabs a book out.

“Wanna join me out by the pool?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m thinking about taking a taxi to a nearby beach so I don’t risk running into my family.”

Standing in front of the sliding glass doors, I grab hold of the curtains. “Why would you do that when we have this?” I ask as I pull the curtains back, revealing the pool outside our door with the makeshift privacy fence.

Her mouth hangs open as she takes in the sheets neatly tied to the fence before her eyes meet mine. “You did all this? For me?”

“You should enjoy your vacation, princess. Join me outside?”

She nods slowly and follows me out to the pool with her book in hand.

1. Jamaican Patois: "She don't look like she's even six months old yet, how long have you and her mother been separated?"

2. Jamaican Patois: "My daughter let you win something? That doesn't sound like her at all."