Claimed by the Hellbound Rider

Playing Pretend

Elena POV

I couldn’t stop the strangled sound that broke free at Luca’s words. My hands were trembling as I pressed them against my mouth and held my breath as I waited to see if it was as loud as I thought.

“You hear that?” Marco asked.

My eyes darted around the room, looking for escape, but there was no way out. Cold sweat slicked down my spine as the men fell silent.

Then the stranger said, “Hear what?”

“Man, I could have sworn…maybe I’m just hearing things,” Marco laughed. “Sounded like something on the other side of this vent.”

The sounds of men getting to their feet and moving around carried clearly through the grate. “I’ll go check it out,” Luca said.

I spun, hoping that some magical door had appeared, or a portal out of here, but of course that hadn’t happened. The room on the other side of the wall was quiet now, and I was running out of time.

I looked around again, and my gaze landed on the TV. Sick relief flooded over me. Hurrying over to it, I switched it on and turned the volume up, then settled into the lounge chair farthest from the vent. I bundled the robe tightly around me, hoping the fluffy terry material would absorb—and hide—the panic sweat I knew I was covered in.

It didn’t take long before I heard voices in the laundry area. Luca’s deep tone was answered by the maid’s lighter one, and then the door to the break room swung open. He scanned the room, his gaze stopping briefly on the television before it came to rest on me. The surprise on his face quickly switched to concern when he realized I was sitting here in just a robe.

He strode over to me and knelt beside the chair. “Elena? What are you doing in here?”

He sounded so much like my Luca, the man I had been in love with for over three years, that tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t reconcile this man—gentle and worried beside me—with the one who’d calmly promised to kill me. My head hurt even trying to.

“Tesoro? What’s wrong?” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and I forced myself not to pull away.

“It’s nothing, really. Just…I guess I’m embarrassed,” I hedged.

“What do you have to be embarrassed about?” He kept his voice soft as he coaxed me.

“It’s just…you were barely gone five minutes, and then I had to leave…what will everyone think?” Deflecting was the only strategy I could come up with right now. If he thought I was upset because of the Alessa situation, maybe he wouldn’t look too deeply into the possibility I’d been eavesdropping.

“f**k what they think, tesoro. You’re above all of them.” He picked up my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened? Why are you sitting in the maid’s lounge in a robe, instead of enjoying yourself in your beautiful dress?”

I let a tear fall—not that it was hard, since I felt like my heart was breaking in two—and answered him. “The dress…I’m afraid it’s probably ruined, Luca.” My words were a whisper. “The maid’s trying, but…it was smeared with so much food.”

He kept my hand in his, gently circling his thumb along the back for comfort. If I hadn’t heard that conversation, it would have worked.

I continued with the story, knowing he would just ask again. “I had just filled a plate, like you said, and when I turned around, Alessa was there. She bumped into me and spilled the entire plate down the front of my dress.”

He spat out a string of curses in Italian. It wasn’t much better when he switched back to English. “That rotten b***h. I can’t believe she actually had the nerve,” he muttered. He cupped my face with his hands, meeting my tear-filled gaze. “Don’t worry, Elena. I won’t let her get away with that. She knows she’s not to come within twenty feet of you.”

Luca pressed a kiss to my forehead, and a part of me wanted to lean into it. Into the illusion of protection and safety he was offering me. I sniffed again.

“I’m sorry about the dress. I know it was expensive.”

He waved that away. “Think no more of it, tesoro. You’re the true beauty, not a piece of silk. Now, come,” he stood and pulled me up with him. “Let’s get you changed and go home, okay? We can top off the night with pizza and a movie to relax. How does that sound?” He held me against him, and my arms wrapped around his waist almost naturally. There was such a huge part of me that wanted to forget, just forget, the last half hour.

To pretend that this was all real, that he was still MY Luca, the one who would defend me against anything.

“Yes. That sounds good, Luca,” I said softly. Even now, saying no to him felt impossible.

He released me and moved to the door, opening it and speaking low to the person on the other side. Within minutes, he had a brand-new dress in his hands, though this one wasn’t nearly as fancy. He laid the dress on the lounge beside me, then reached for the sash on the robe and pulled. It slipped loose, and the front parted. He pushed the cloth over my shoulders until it pooled on the floor, and I stood in front of him in my lingerie and heels.

His gaze heated as he took me in. Before tonight, I would have basked beneath that look, beneath the way Luca always made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

This time, it only made my stomach knot painfully.

His fingers skimmed lightly over my waist as he steadied me, familiar and intimate in ways that made my chest ache. There had been a time when I would have melted beneath his touch without hesitation. When I would have leaned into him and believed, without question, that no place on earth was safer than Luca’s arms.

Now every brush of his hands left me painfully aware of how much power he truly held over me.

He could ruin lives with a few quiet words spoken behind closed doors. Could order men to disappear. Could decide whether someone lived or died over a glass of whiskey and a business meeting.

And somehow, impossibly, he was still looking at me like I was precious to him.

The contradiction was enough to make me feel dizzy.

His expression darkened suddenly. He caught my wrist gently and turned my arm toward the light. I followed his gaze and saw the bruises—four small marks and a separate fifth one. Fingerprints.

“Who did this?” Luca asked through clenched teeth.

“Alessa.”

He nodded once, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he moved to help me get into the new dress, then zipped it up for me. He pressed a soft kiss on my shoulder. “She’ll pay for those marks, tesoro. No one hurts what’s mine.”

He grabbed my hand and led me to the door. “Let’s go home.”