Chapter Three: A Kiss Like War
617 Words
His mouth was fire and demand, and Emily’s thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.
She should have pushed him away. Should have slapped him for his arrogance. But the moment Luciano’s lips claimed hers, her body betrayed her, melting against him with a traitorous sigh. His arm banded around her waist, crushing her to the hard planes of his chest as his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t sweet.
It was possession. A branding.
And God help her, she kissed him back.
A ragged sound escaped his throat, and suddenly, he walked her backward until her hips hit the edge of his desk. Files scattered as he lifted her onto it, stepping between her thighs without breaking the kiss. His taste—dark coffee and something uniquely *Luciano*—flooded her senses, intoxicating as forbidden whiskey.
Then, just as suddenly as he’d begun it, he ended it.
He pulled back, his breathing uneven, his green eyes blazing with something that looked like fury. Or hunger. Maybe both.
"That," he said roughly, "is how a woman in love kisses her husband."
Emily’s lips throbbed. Her entire body hummed. And her pride? Shattered.
She shoved at his chest, her voice trembling. "That wasn’t part of the deal."
His smirk was infuriating. "It is now."
She slid off the desk, putting much-needed space between them. "You can’t just—"
"I can." He straightened his tie, the picture of cool control while she felt like a wildfire barely contained. "And I will. Whenever necessary."
Her nails bit into her palms. "And what if *I* don’t want you to?"
Something dangerous flickered in his gaze. "You did."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words died when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression hardened.
"We’re expected at the villa tonight."
Emily blinked. "Tonight?"
"My grandfather." His jaw tightened. "He’s arranged a dinner. To meet my *fiancée*."
Her stomach dropped. "But we just agreed—"
"And now we don’t have a choice." He strode to his private elevator, pressing the call button. "You have two hours. Be ready."
"Two *hours*?"
The elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside, turning to pin her with a look that brooked no argument.
"Wear the red dress."
Then the doors closed, leaving her alone with the ghost of his kiss—and the sinking realization that she’d made a deal with the devil.
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### **Later That Evening – The De Luca Villa**
The sprawling Tuscan-style estate glittered under the moonlight, but Emily barely noticed its beauty. Her stomach was a knot of nerves as Luciano’s chauffeured car wound up the driveway.
She touched the diamond pendant at her throat—his *"engagement gift,"* delivered to her apartment with a terse note: *"Wear this. Smile. And remember why you’re here."*
The car stopped. Before she could reach for the door, it opened, and Luciano stood there, his black tuxedo making him look even more devastating than usual.
He extended his hand.
"Ready, *mia moglie*?"
My wife.
The endearment sent a shiver through her, but she placed her hand in his, letting him pull her from the car.
"Remember," he murmured as they approached the villa’s grand entrance, "no one can suspect this isn’t real."
She forced a smile. "Don’t worry. I’m an excellent actress."
His fingers tightened on hers. "See that you are."
Then the doors opened, revealing a room full of strangers—and one elderly man in a wheelchair who studied her with piercing dark eyes.
Vittorio De Luca.
The lion in winter.
And the man who held Luciano’s future in his hands.
- Writer
