The Space Between Bullets
1040 Words
Luca's POV
Her smile stayed even as the silence thickened between us, like smoke after a gunshot. It was the kind of smile that didn't come from triumph but from knowing something could no longer be undone. She wasn't taunting me. She wasn't bragging. She was just... seeing me. And that was more dangerous than any weapon she could've pulled.
"Go back inside," I told her, quieter now.
She didn't move. Didn't blink. "Make me."
I squeezed my fists to keep from touching her again. There was a part of me that wanted to drag her to safety, to erase the last ten minutes and pretend her lips had never tasted like absolution. But there was a bigger part that knew the truth: nothing could erase it. Not now.
So I turned away.
The cool night air cut through the heat she'd left on my skin. I could still taste her. Still feel the way her body had leaned into mine, not just with need, but with trust. A trust she had no right to give someone like me.
But I hadn't told her no. Not really.
And that silence had spoken louder than anything.
Celina's POV
He left. Just like that. No apologies. No explanations. And I hated that it still hurt.
I stood there for a full minute before going back inside the suite. The echo of our kiss haunted the air, clinging to the walls like a ghost that refused to fade. I touched my lips, still raw from his, and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.
This wasn't supposed to be real.
Luca Sionelli was the underboss. Cold. Calculating. A man born of violence and secrets. And I was the daughter of a man who'd died a traitor.
We weren't supposed to make sense.
But when he kissed me... it didn't feel wrong. It felt like the only thing that had made sense in a long time.
I took off the heels I'd worn to dinner and padded barefoot across the marble. The suite felt suddenly too big, too quiet. I passed the untouched wine on the table, the red liquid catching moonlight through the glass like blood.
Blood.
Everything in this house reeked of it. Even the beautiful things. Especially the beautiful things.
Luca's POV
Frankie was waiting for me downstairs, a file in hand and a look that said he knew too much.
So, he said, falling into step beside me. You gonna tell me why you look like you've been sucker punched by a ghost?
I ignored him.
Right, he muttered. Classic Luca. Shove it down and pretend your jaw ain't cracked.
I yanked the file out of his hand and kept walking. You got something useful or just running your mouth today?”
Frankie chuckled under his breath, the sound sharp and knowing. It's about her, isn't it?
I stopped walking. Turned.
Say her name, I warned.
He held up his hands. “Relax. I'm not trying to get sliced.”
But I'd already tensed up. My whole body was wired, like my skin didn't fit right anymore. That kiss f**k, that kiss it was still burned into me. Not just the taste of her, not just the way she didn't start , but the way she looked at me after. Like she saw me. The real me. And didn't run.
She's dangerous,” I muttered.
Frankie arched a brow. “To you or to the family?
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure anymore.
We walked in silence for a moment. The old floorboards creaked under our steps. I could hear the distant sound of someone loading crates in the back our men running shipments like nothing in this place ever changed. But it was changing. She was changing it.
She's not ready for what's coming,I said.
“No one ever is,” Frankie replied. “Not the first time the gun's pointed at them.”
She's not built for this.
He gave me a look. That girl's got fire in her bones. Whether she uses it to burn you or the whole damn city... that's up to you.”
I hated how right he sounded.
I hated even more that he wasn't judging me. Just watching. Like he was waiting to see whether I'd fall or pull the damn pin and let everything explode.
Is that all? I asked, motioning toward the file.
He shrugged. Her background check's clean. Too clean. Either she's better than we thought... or someone wiped it.
I froze.
Wiped it how?”
“Records missing. School transcripts edited. No known addresses for three years before she landed in Los Angeles . It's like someone scrubbed her life.
I clenched my jaw. Could be her.
Could be someone protecting her.
That didn't sit right with me.
Celina Moretti didn't strike me as the type who needed saving. If anything, she was the one doing the hunting. But that hollow look in her eyes when I pulled away earlier... it lingered. Like something inside her was already broken long before I touched her.
Keep digging,I said.
Frankie nodded. What are you gonna do?
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Because every instinct told me to stay away from her.
And every part of me was already walking back toward her door.
I stood outside her door again that night.
Didn't knock.
Didn't go in.
Just stood there like a f*****g coward with blood on his hands and her taste still on his mouth.
There was music playing faintly behind the wood. Jazz, low and haunting, like a woman smoking her sorrow through a trumpet solo.
I closed my eyes.
Tried to forget the sound of her voice saying You already did.
Tried to forget the way my silence had spoken louder than anything I could've said.
But most of all, I tried to forget that I wanted her again.
And it wasn't working.
I turned away from the door before I made another mistake. Walked down the hall like I still had control. Like I wasn't already circling the fuse I swore I'd never light.
Let her think she won.
Let her think I was done.
Because this wasn't over.
Not even close.
- Writer
