The Undoing of de Luca
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‘Good,’ he finally said and pushed off from the doorframe, disappearing back into the dining room without another word.
Ellery hurried to check on the chicken simmering on the stove. Fortunately, the tarragon cream sauce hadn’t curdled.
Back in the dining room, Amelie and Larenz sat unspeaking. Larenz looked relaxed, sprawled in his seat, while Amelie seemed tense, drumming her nails once more, the little clicks seeming to echo through the silent room. She had, Ellery saw, caused another divot in the ancient tabletop.
Amelie had barely touched her soup but Ellery saw, to her satisfaction, that Larenz had completely cleaned his bowl. As she reached for the empty dish, he laid a hand on her wrist, shocking her with the unexpected touch. His skin was warm and dry and it sent a strange, not unpleasant, jolt right down to her plimsoll-encased toes.
‘The soup was delicious,’ he murmured, and Ellery jerked her head in the semblance of a nod.
‘Thank you. Your main course will be out shortly.’ Nerves caused her hands to tremble and the bowl clanked against his wine glass as she took it, making her flush and Larenz smile lazily.
‘Careful. You don’t want to spill another glass of wine.’
‘Your glass is empty,’ Ellery returned tartly. She hated that he’d seen how he affected her—and why should he affect her? He was incredibly attractive, yes, but he was also an arrogant ass. ‘I’ll refill it in a moment,’ she added, and turned back to the kitchen.
Dumping the dishes in the sink, Ellery hurried to serve the plates of chicken, sauce and the roasted new potatoes she’d left crisping in the oven. Quite suddenly, she felt utterly exhausted. She had an entire weekend of catering meals—and enduring Amelie’s snide remarks and Larenz’s speculative looks—ahead of her, yet all she wanted was to go upstairs and hide under the covers.
Behind her, the boiler clanked mournfully and Ellery gritted her teeth. She had to bear it. The only other option was to sell Maddock Manor, and that was no option at all. Not yet, at least. The Manor was the only thing she had left of her family, her father. Sometimes, as impossible and irrational as she knew it was, the Manor felt like the only thing that validated who she was and where she had come from.
She was keeping it.
Two hours later, Larenz and Amelie had finally retired upstairs. Ellery scraped the remains of their meal—Larenz had finished both his main course and a generous slice of chocolate g^ateau, while Amelie had barely touched any of it—into the bin and tried to ease the persistent ache in her lower back. What she really wanted was a long soak in a very hot bath, but the repair man had already told her that such a venture would push the boiler past its limited endurance. She’d have to settle for a hot-water bottle instead, which had been her companion most nights anyway. Now that it was late October, the cold stole into the Manor and crouched in corners, especially in the draughty, unheated room where Ellery slept.
Sighing, she stacked the rinsed plates in the dishwasher and mentally ran through her to-do list for breakfast. Part of the weekend package was a full English fry-up, yet she was quite sure Amelie Weyton ran only to black coffee in the mornings.
Larenz, on the other hand, probably required a hearty breakfast that he’d tuck into with relish while never putting on an ounce. Quite suddenly, Ellery found her mind wandering upstairs, to the best bedroom with its antique four-poster—the new silk hangings had eaten up most of her budget for the room’s redecoration—and the birch logs she’d laid in the hearth that morning. Would Larenz light a fire so he and Amelie could be cosy in bed together, the flames casting dancing shadows over the bed and their entangled bodies?
Or perhaps they would have another source of heat—she imagined them there, among the pillows and blankets, Amelie’s limbs twined around Larenz, and felt a sudden dart of completely unreasonable jealousy.
She could not possibly be jealous. What was there to be jealous of? She despised the pair of them. Yet even as she asked herself this, Ellery already knew the answer. She was jealous of Amelie having someone—anyone—but especially someone as attractive and, face it, as sexy as Larenz de Luca. She was jealous of them both, and the fact that neither of them would be alone tonight. Like she would.
Ellery sighed. She’d been living at Maddock Manor, attempting to make ends if not meet, at least glimpse each other, for six long, lonely months. She’d made a few friends in the village, but nothing like the life she’d once had. Nothing like the life she wanted.
Her university friends were all in London, living the young urban lifestyle that she’d once, ridiculously, enjoyed. Even after only half a year it seemed as faded and foggy as a dream, the kind where you could only remember hazy fragments and surreal snatches. Her best friend, Lil, was constantly urging her to come back to London, even if just for a visit, and Ellery had managed it once.
Yet one weekend in the city didn’t completely combat the loneliness of living alone in an abandoned manor house, day after day after day. Ellery shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of such useless thoughts. She was acting maudlin and pathetic and it annoyed her. She couldn’t visit London right now, but she could at least ring her friend. She imagined telling Lil all about the horrible Amelie and Larenz and knew her friend would relish the gossip.
Smiling at the thought, Ellery resumed stacking the dishwasher and wiping the worktops. She had just finished and was about to switch off the lights when a voice made her jump nearly a foot in the air.
‘Excuse me—’
Ellery whirled around, one hand to her chest. Larenz de Luca stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the door. How had she not heard him come in again? He must, she thought resentfully, be as quiet as a cat. He smiled sleepily, and Ellery noticed how deliciously rumpled he looked. His hair, glinting darkly in the light, curled over his forehead and was just a little ruffled. He’d shed his suit jacket and tie from earlier and had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt; Ellery could glimpse a stretch of golden skin there, at the base of his throat, that made her suddenly swallow rather dryly.
‘Did I frighten you?’ he asked, and she thought his accent sounded more pronounced. It was probably intentional, Ellery thought with a twinge of cynical amusement. He did the sexy Italian thing rather well, and he knew it.
‘You startled me,’ she corrected, sounding as crisp and buttoned-up as the spinster schoolteacher she was for the children in the village. She gave him her best teacher’s glare and was satisfied to see him inadvertently straighten. ‘Is there something you need, Mr de Luca?’