Isabella
“Isabella.” Luca’s voice was low, like gravel wrapped in velvet.
“Open the door.”
I didn’t answer. My throat was raw, my eyes swollen. But my body… God, my body betrayed me. Just hearing him say my name made the heat pool low in my belly.
“Open it, or I’ll break it down. You know I will.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood on shaky legs. My fingers trembled as I turned the lock.
The door swung open.
Luca filled the frame—shirtless again, sweatpants riding low on his hips, that hard, sculpted chest still glistening slightly.
His dark eyes swept over me, taking in my tear-streaked face, the thin tank top clinging to my breasts, the tiny shorts that barely covered anything.
“You were crying,” he said.
“I hate you,” I whispered, but the words had no bite le
