(Luca’s POV)
I glanced at Emma as she sat stiffly beside me in the car, her arms crossed and her jaw set in defiance. The morning light caught the soft curve of her cheek, the delicate slope of her neck, and the way the dress I’d chosen clung to her figure.
She looked every bit the queen she was meant to be, even if her expression screamed rebellion.
Good.
I preferred her this way—alive with fire, rather than shrinking from me in fear. A woman like Emma wasn’t meant to cower; she was meant to rise, even if it was only so I could break her walls down again.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she finally asked, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.
I didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch until I felt her shift in discomfort.
“No,” I said at last, keeping my
