Chapter 2: Do You Know How Tempting You Are?
A bead of water slid down Luca's neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt. He could not have said whether it was leftover shower water or fresh sweat. His pulse was loud enough to crowd out thought, each beat striking harder than the last as Sofia leaned closer with one hand still braced against the doorframe.
The image from his nightmare came rushing back with humiliating force. In the dream, her eyes had burned with a hunger so naked it had turned his blood cold. Standing in front of him now, she looked nothing like that woman and yet not entirely unlike her either. That was the worst part. The face was the same. The softness was the same. Only the edge had gone hidden.
When she shifted her weight and one long leg crossed the threshold, Luca's whole body tightened.
He was already mapping exits in his head. If she stepped fully inside, he could dart past her into the hall. If she blocked that too, he could shove the small table over and buy himself a second. If that failed, then he would have to yell and let the entire floor hear it.
Before any of those useless plans could become necessary, a violent buzzing broke across the room.
The phone on the coffee table lit up with a cold blue screen and rattled against the wood.
The sound snapped Luca back into motion. He turned so quickly he almost slipped, crossed the room in two strides, and snatched it up.
"Hello? Who is this?"
A booming voice answered at once.
"You little idiot, how many times have I told you I changed my number? I even told you to save it, and of course you forgot."
Luca let out the breath he had been holding so fast it almost made him dizzy.
Teo.
It was Teo Marini, loud enough through the speaker to be heard from the staircase.
"I did forget," Luca admitted. "Sorry. Completely forgot."
"Are you even awake? I'm almost there. If you're still in bed when I arrive, I'm pulling the blanket off you myself."
"I've been up for ages," Luca lied without shame. "Get here, then. I'm waiting."
His laugh came out a little too eager, but he did not care. Rescue was rescue.
In the doorway, Sofia's expression shifted. It was not a large change. Her mouth still held that gentle smile, and her posture remained easy, but something behind her eyes darkened for a second at the mention of a friend on the way. Her fingers curled once against the frame. Then she released it.
The door was free again.
Luca felt the difference at once.
"Sorry, Ms. Bellori," he said, recovering enough to put some politeness back into his voice. "My classmate's about to arrive, so I probably shouldn't keep you."
"No, no, of course not." Sofia drew her hand back completely and smiled as though the last minute had contained nothing strange at all. "You're young. People your own age are much better company."
Now that she was no longer blocking the doorway, she looked exactly like what the building liked to call her. A lovely woman from next door. Graceful. Warm. A little lonely, perhaps, but kind.
Luca almost hated how convincing it was.
She tipped her head and gave him a fond look that sat uneasily on him.
"You definitely haven't eaten yet, have you? It's painful to look at you like this. If a man of mine skipped meals, I'd never allow it. I'd cook properly, clear the dishes myself, take care of everything. He'd only need to sit there and look beautiful."
Then she laughed, light and musical, as if she had merely made a harmless joke.
Luca did not know what to do with that.
He had heard the neighbors whisper often enough that things with her husband were a mess, so the sudden turn toward husband talk caught him off guard. All he could do was offer the sort of safe compliment that usually ended awkward conversations without creating a worse one.
"You're very beautiful," he said. "Anyone who married you would be unbelievably lucky."
Sofia went still.
It was subtle, but Luca saw it. Her eyes brightened with a strange intensity, and the rise of her chest turned sharper, almost breathless. For one uncomfortable moment he had the impression that he had stepped into the wrong part of the conversation without knowing how.
"You really think that?" she asked.
Luca scratched the back of his neck, already regretting the compliment.
"I mean, I'm sure everyone thinks so."
The brightness in her eyes dimmed a little.
"So that's it," she murmured, too softly for the line to sound like an answer to him so much as one to herself.
By the time Luca looked up properly, her smile had returned, smooth and mild as ever.
"Well, no point letting good food go to waste." She held out the parcel at last. "Take it. Young men still need to look after themselves. You should eat at regular hours."
He accepted the bag with both hands.
The warmth of the paper seeped into his palms. As her fingers brushed his, Sofia let them rest there for the briefest moment. It was no more than a light touch, almost nothing, but not quite accidental either.
"Th-thank you," Luca said.
"There's no need." She turned away with that same composed grace. "I'll leave you boys alone."
As she stepped back into the corridor, Luca caught a glimpse of her lifting one hand to her cheek, her fingertips brushing lightly across it as if she were touching a place that still held warmth.
Then a voice from farther down the hall cut through the quiet.
"Luca, don't shut the door on me."
Teo came jogging up the corridor, waving one arm. He passed Sofia on the way in, gave her a brief glance, and moved on without lingering. For all his shameless mouth, Teo could be surprisingly alert about when not to act like an idiot.
"You got here fast," Luca said.
"It's called walking instead of drifting through life like a decorative cloud."
"Come in."
Luca carried the parcel into the kitchen and opened it over the counter. Sofia had not only sent over the porchetta, she had sliced it neatly for him as well. The meat was already cooked through, the edges browned and fragrant with rosemary and pepper. It only needed warming.
Teo leaned in beside him and whistled.
"Since when did your cooking improve this much?"
He stole a slice before Luca could stop him, blew on it once, and popped it into his mouth.
"That's excellent," he said around the bite. "What happened to the boy who lived on pasta and desperation?"
"I didn't make it. The neighbor did. You probably saw her just now."
"The beautiful one?"
Luca gave him a flat look.
"That narrows it down so well."
"The one who just left your door looking like she belonged there," Teo said, not the least bit embarrassed. "Yes, that one."
Luca set the slices into a pan to warm and reached for two plates.
"She lives next door. She brought food over because she made too much."
Teo leaned against the counter and watched him.
"She's older than us, but not by much."
"She's older than me by nearly eight years," Luca said. "And she's married, so you can stop staring at the door like you missed your fate by ten seconds."
Teo accepted the plate Luca handed him and followed him to the table.
"Married women are still capable of being beautiful. I'm just making observations." He speared a slice of porchetta with his fork and chewed thoughtfully. "So she came over specifically to bring you food?"
"Yes."
"Has she done that before?"
"No. She helped me once before, that's all."
Teo narrowed his eyes.
"My instincts say there's more to it."
Luca sat down across from him and started eating.
"Your instincts say that about everyone."
"That's because I'm usually right."
"You say that because you guessed correctly twice and now think you're some kind of private investigator."
Teo ignored the insult with great dignity.
"There's an old rule," he said, raising a finger as if lecturing a class. "When someone offers unprompted kindness, there's either desire behind it or some other agenda. Now factor in that she's gorgeous, living alone, and making a habit of taking care of you while you also live alone. You see why my concern is charitable."
"You should ask for a trench coat and a dramatic soundtrack next."
"I'm serious."
"And I'm eating lunch."
Teo sniffed and took another bite.
"I still say that woman is not simple."
Luca rolled his eyes hard enough to make the gesture felt.
"You look at one conversation and build a full criminal profile."
"Then let's bet on it." Teo pointed his fork at him. "If I'm wrong, I'll drop it. If I'm right, you buy me scampi."
Luca laughed.
"That's your price?"
"It's a very fair price."
"Fine."
"Fine," Teo echoed, satisfied. "Start saving."
The ringtone from Luca's phone cut across the table before he could answer.
He picked it up and checked the screen.
Chiara: Don't come in on Monday morning planning to copy homework. Teacher's checking.
Teo, who had opened a bottle of orange soda for himself without asking, slid it across the table toward Luca afterward.
"Harassment?"
"No. It's Chiara." Luca set the phone down. "She's warning me not to show up Monday expecting to copy homework because a teacher will be watching."
Teo stopped midway through drinking.
"She warned you?"
Luca looked up.
"Yes."
"When I got caught copying in front of that fossilized homeroom teacher, did anyone warn me? No. I suffered alone." Teo set the bottle down with the mournful gravity of a wronged citizen. "I still remember it. My hand was so dead after rewriting those passages all night that I nearly had to ask someone else to hold my fork for me."
"Maybe she didn't have your number."
Teo stared at him.
"She has your number. You and I spend half our lives together. She could have asked you for mine in under ten seconds."
Luca opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"That is," he admitted, "annoyingly true."
Teo leaned back in his chair, looking smug.
Luca remembered that day too well. Teo had indeed been caught red-handed, and their homeroom teacher, a woman with the patience of a prison warden and the soul of an executioner, had made him hand-copy so much material that he looked half dead the next morning.
Teo tapped the table once.
"I think Chiara Venturi likes you."
Luca nearly inhaled a piece of porchetta the wrong way.
He coughed, grabbed a napkin, and pressed it to his mouth while glaring across the table.
"Can your instincts not invent nonsense for five minutes? If Chiara heard you saying that, she'd beat you herself."
"I'm not inventing anything." Teo looked deeply pleased with himself now. "My seat is diagonally across from hers. I see where she looks. I see how often. I know more about this than you do."
Luca frowned.
"What are you even talking about?"
Teo's grin widened. There was mischief in it, but not only mischief. Underneath that easy shamelessness was the same sharpness that sometimes made Luca listen when he would rather not.
"What I'm talking about," Teo said, "is that you have no idea what effect you have on people."
Luca gave him a skeptical look.
Teo tilted his head and studied him in a way that was half mockery, half diagnosis.
"Luca Valenti," he said, "do you know how tempting you are?"