Chapter 5 - Control
670 Words
Luca’s POV:
Luca did not lose control.
Not in business.
Not in war.
Not with women.
But tonight—
He came dangerously close.
He stood alone in his penthouse office, jacket discarded, tie loosened just slightly. The city stretched beneath the glass walls in glittering silence.
His phone lay on the desk.
Reports of missing funds.
Rumors of betrayal.
Movements within his organization that required immediate correction.
Normally, that would be enough to occupy his entire mind.
It wasn’t.
Instead—
He saw her.
Alessia Romano walking into Velvet Saint like she had every right to be there.
Unimpressed.
Unshaken.
And again, without any fear.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of his desk.
She hadn’t looked away.
Not when the dancer touched him.
Not when her body moved against his.
Not when he deliberately pressed his hand to another woman’s waist.
Alessia had watched.
Eyes sharp.
Breathing heavier than she realized.
His jaw tightened at the memory.
The flicker of jealousy she tried to hide.
The way her pulse had jumped beneath her skin when he stepped close.
He had felt it.
He had measured it.
And he had almost—
Almost kissed her.
That irritated him.
He didn’t do “almost.”
If he wanted something, he took it.
But with her—
He wanted the moment.
The surrender.
He wanted her to beg for him.
The shift in her eyes when defiance melted into something darker and raw.
He poured himself a drink but didn’t taste it.
Instead, he imagined her in her apartment.
Restless.
Thinking.
Her pride melting and failing with the heat he’d ignited.
He pictured her lying in bed, replaying every second in that private room. The way his thumb had pressed into her hip. The way his voice had dropped when he told her it worked.
The way his finger moved from her cleavage to her neck and that soft unaware moan that escaped her lips.
His hand tightened slightly around the glass.
He wondered if she was touching her own lips right now, remembering how close he’d been.
If she was angry at herself for wanting him.
The thought sent a slow, controlled heat through his chest and he looked at his trousers and saw the bulge.
She fascinated him.
Not because she was beautiful.
There were many beautiful women.
Not because she was bold.
He had broken bold before.
It was the way she refused to kneel.
The way she stepped forward instead of back.
The slap at the gala.
The way she stood in his club surrounded by temptation and still held herself like a queen.
His phone vibrated.
Matteo.
“Speak.”
“We found the leak,” Matteo said. “It’s internal.”
Luca’s expression shifted instantly.
Cold.
Focused.
“Name.”
“Still confirming.”
“Confirm faster.”
He ended the call.
Business demanded attention.
War required precision.
But even as he turned to the financial files on his desk—
His mind drifted again.
He imagined Alessia discovering the internal betrayal.
Imagined her thinking she finally had leverage.
A small smile curved his mouth.
If she wanted to play this game—
He would let her.
He would let her think she was winning.
And then—
He would corner her.
Not in a club.
Not in a public gala.
Somewhere quiet.
Somewhere private.
Somewhere she couldn’t pretend her pulse didn’t change when he stepped close.
His fingers brushed his jaw where she had slapped him days ago.
He could still feel it.
And strangely—
He liked that she had done it.
She was fire.
And Luca DeMarco had always enjoyed watching things burn.
He picked up his phone.
Typed a message.
You should lock your doors tonight.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then sent it.
Not a threat.
A promise.
And somewhere in the city—
He imagined her phone lighting up.
Her breath catching.
Her mind racing.
Good.
Let her think about him.
Because he was definitely thinking about her.
- Writer
