Page 59

Chapter fifty-eight

Luca

Saturday, August 29, 2026

M y senses all liven up, one at a time, as I start to wake. The warm smell of Samara fills my lungs, and a soft tickle flits over my chest. I feel something across my legs, but it’s too heavy to be a blanket.

Forcing my eyes open, I blink rapidly, but there’s no light in here for my pupils to adjust to. Instead, I pat myself down, and realization dawns on me the moment I feel the satin bonnet on my chest… Which must mean that my legs are being pinned down by Samara.

As luck would have it, my dick is so hard I could probably chop wood with it.

I will it to go away, but unsurprisingly, it won’t. Especially not with Samara lying on top of me, making me delirious with her sweet scent. Fuck , why is she so damn perfect?

If this relationship were real, I’d already have her on her back, screaming my name.

My dick twitches. Well, that thought certainly didn’t help my current situation either. Goddamnit.

Donald Trump naked. Dead puppies. A baseball bat pummeling my dick. Maggots crawling out of my dick.

I reach down, gripping my shaft and hoping like hell that it worked, but as it appears, I’m still as hard as ever. Even the most disgusting shit I can think of isn’t working to soften this thing up.

Samara shifts, further gliding her body onto mine. I hold completely still, hoping there’s still a shot I might be able to slide out from underneath her, but when I hear her sharp inhale and feel her hands roaming over me, I know I’m not that lucky.

I hold my breath as she pats me down, trying to get her bearings, and when her hand lands on my dick, I can’t help the groan that slips past my lips. “Oh fuck.” I moan, leaning into her touch.

Just as quickly as it came, it disappears. Samara shoots up, pushing away from me. “What the hell, Luca? I said to stay on your side!” she shrieks at me.

I reach over to the lamp beside me and turn it on. The room is suddenly much easier to visualize, and when my eyes meet Samara’s, hers are wide with shock.

I hike a brow at her, smirking as I say, “Well, princess, it appears you are on my side. Just couldn’t keep your hands off me, could you?” I tease her, hoping she takes the bait so we can end this awkward stare-down.

Just as I’d hoped, she huffs before rolling out of the bed and snatching her bag from the closet, dragging it into the bathroom with her.

“It’s okay, princess!” I call after her, “I love cuddles.”

“Fuck off, Luca!” she shouts back, but I swear I hear her laugh the moment the bathroom door closes behind her.

It looks like I will be sleeping on the couch tonight.

***

“Do you have any plans for what we should do after breakfast?” I ask her, hopeful that she’ll include me in them.

“Yep, I’m going to drag my ass to the nearest beach that isn’t within walking distance of my parents, read for hours, and then have a relaxing massage,” she tells me, sounding excited. Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, though, as I realize not only am I not included in those plans, but it actually hurts that I’m not. What the fuck?

I put on my best smile and tell her, “Sounds great. Mind if I call Gia real quick, and then we can get out of here?” I guess my plans to take her away for the day are a wash if she’d rather be alone.

“Not at all,” she says just as the room is filled with the sound of our ringing phone. “You call Gia and Cecily, and I’ll take care of this.”

I nod, grabbing my phone and dialing Cici. She answers quickly. “Good morning, Luca! Gia, your daddy’s on the phone. Do you wanna talk to him?” she coos, her voice high-pitched and filled with joy.

I chuckle. “Sounds like you’re having a good time.”

“We are.” She sighs dreamily. “It’s really”—the line goes quiet for a moment before she finishes—“just really nice. Having her with me, knowing I have support, knowing that it’s okay to not be perfect, and finally feeling like I have a way to cope with the impending thoughts of imposter syndrome.”

My heart clenches, and I’m overwhelmed with joy at that. Maybe someday I’ll figure that out too. “That’s incredible, Cici. I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, and out of my periphery, I see Samara hang up the phone, her dark brows pulled together.

“I’m proud of both of us,” she whispers, clearing her throat. “Okay, here’s Gia,” she quickly tells me.

“Gia, mia bambina ! Daddy misses you,” I tell her, and she babbles at the sound of my voice. “Your mom has sent me so many pictures of you. I bet you’re having so much fun with her.” More incoherent babbles come over the line.

Samara sits on the edge of the bed, clasps her hands over her knees, and a thread of worry spirals through me. “Hey, Gia, Cici, I’m gonna have to go, but do you mind if we do a video call tonight?”

“Of course not,” Cici assures me. “Just send me a text when you’re ready, and I’ll keep flooding your inbox with pictures and updates.”

“You’re the best! Talk soon,” I tell her and then say, “Gia, Daddy loves you. You’re my whole heart, okay? I’ll be home soon.”

Of course, she doesn’t answer, but Cici does. “Have fun today, Luca,” she says before hanging up. A couple of photos roll in the moment the call ends, and Gia is wearing a pink-and-white dress with ruffles and the cutest little matching bow, looking just like Pebbles from The Flintstones . I’d expect nothing less from Cici.

“Everything okay, princess?” I ask tentatively as I approach her side of the bed. I crouch down in front of her when she doesn’t immediately respond, and I can feel my heart pounding in my throat the longer it takes her to answer me.

“Yeah, it’s just…” She swallows.

“Just what?” I ask, my brow arched in question.

“Apparently, everyone who ate dessert last night got sick, so they won’t be able to join us for breakfast today,” she tells me hesitantly.

“I’m not seeing the problem, princess. You’re gonna have to spell it out for me because we didn’t have dessert, and I thought time away from your family was a good thing.”

“It is, but my parents had some romantic excursion booked for this afternoon, and it’s non-refundable, so they begged us to go in their place, and I said yes.”

My heart rate starts to slow. “That doesn’t sound so bad. I’m sure we can have fun together,” I tell her with a wink, hoping to, at the very least, help her mood change from sad to annoyed. Annoyance I can handle. I’m used to her being annoyed with me. Sad? Not so much.

“I mean, I guess not. But I had my massage planned, and now I can’t do that, so I’m just a little bummed,” she explains.

Understanding dawns on me. If my girl wants a massage, she’s getting a massage.

“Let’s just make the most of it, okay?”

She nods, standing. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Always,” I answer, following her to the door. I make a mental note to call the spa as soon as we’re done eating.

***

“I’m gonna go make a call. I’ll be ready in a few minutes, and then we can head out,” I tell Samara, closing the sliding door behind me.

The phone rings a few times as I wait for the hotel spa to answer. “La Rucia Spa, how can I help you?”

“Hi, my girlfriend had a massage booked for today and had to cancel due to some last-minute changes in our itinerary. I was wondering if you have any open availability?” I ask, making sure there’s a smile in my tone.

“I’m so sorry, sir, but we’re booked out until next March,” she informs me. Shit.

“Could you check to see what kind of massage Samara Perez-Allen in the honeymoon suite had booked for today?”

“Yes, sir,” she answers, and I hear her typing and clicking. “She had a ninety-minute full-body deep-tissue massage with hot stones added.”

“Great, and how much does that usually cost?”

“Twenty-two hundred Dominican pesos, which is about three hundred and seventy USD,” she informs me.

“Great, how does two thousand USD for all of that, plus a facial and body scrub done in our hotel room, sound?”

She sputters on the other end of the line. “Sir, I, we… We don’t have any availability.”

I feel horrible for putting her on the spot, but money talks, and I’m willing to pay if it means Samara gets the vacation she wants. I’m not okay with using money or influence to get what I want, but this feels a lot more like a necessity. Samara’s been known to make me do and think differently than I typically would, even if she has no idea she’s doing it.

“Is there anyone…” I clear my throat. “Any female massage therapists willing to stay after normal working hours? I’ll pay whatever their price is. Hell, I’ll double it,” I tell her.

“One moment, sir,” she says, and I hear her speaking Spanish with a few people in the background. I can make out some of what they’re saying, thanks to Gianni’s language proficiency, but I’m not great at speaking anything aside from English and some really shitty Italian.

She gets back on the phone, releasing a long sigh. “We can make that work. Two thousand USD at six tonight.”

“Sounds great,” I tell her. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” she says before hanging up.

I smile to myself, heading back inside to meet Samara for our romantic excursion.