Chapter Two
1635 Words
The door closed behind me with a soft click that sounded far too final.
The room was quieter than the club below. The air smelled faintly of smoke and something darker, something expensive. Leather. Whiskey. Power.
Luca Moretti did not let go of my wrist.
His grip was not painful, but it was absolute. The kind of hold that did not need force to be understood. I stood between his knees, my body caught in the space he allowed, my pulse racing so wildly I wondered if he could feel it through my skin.
“Sit,” he said again, calmly.
I swallowed. “I… I’m supposed to—”
“I know what you’re supposed to do.”
His thumb shifted slightly against the inside of my wrist, pressing into my pulse point. My breath stuttered. His eyes followed the movement with lazy interest.
“You’re shaking,” he observed.
“I don’t usually—” I stopped myself. Lying felt useless in front of a man like this. “Yes. I am.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile. Something colder.
“Good,” he said. “That means you understand where you are.”
He released my wrist abruptly. The absence of his touch felt almost as shocking as the contact itself.
I hesitated only a second before lowering myself onto his lap, exactly as Victor had instructed. My movements were stiff, unnatural. I did not belong here, perched on the knees of the most dangerous man in the city, wearing silk that barely felt like armor.
His hands rested on the couch, not touching me.
“Go ahead,” Luca said.
I moved.
I let my hips sway slowly, carefully, keeping my hands to myself. My mind screamed at me to remember the plan. The bug was hidden in the small clasp at the back of my necklace. I needed to get close enough to him, lean forward, let it brush against his collar or his jacket.
Easy, Victor had said.
Nothing felt easy.
Luca watched me with a stillness that was unnerving. Most men stared. They devoured with their eyes. Luca studied. Like he was taking me apart piece by piece, memorizing the seams.
“Look at me,” he said.
I forced my gaze up.
His eyes were darker up close, almost black. There was no hunger in them. No lust I could recognize. Just awareness.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
My heart thudded painfully. “Aria.”
He repeated it slowly. “Aria.”
The way he said it made it feel like something else. Like a test.
“You work here long?” he asked.
“Two years.”
“Too long.”
I stiffened before I could stop myself.
His gaze sharpened. “Why?”
I shrugged, trying to keep moving, trying to keep my body from betraying me. “Bills.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
One of his hands lifted, finally touching me. His fingers brushed the bare skin of my waist, light and deliberate. I sucked in a breath before I could stop myself.
“There are other ways to pay bills,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. “Not for people like me.”
His fingers paused.
“People like you,” he repeated.
I met his gaze again, my chin lifting despite the fear clawing at my chest. “People without choices.”
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
I leaned forward slightly, letting the necklace shift, letting the clasp brush his jacket. My heart hammered so loudly I was sure it would give me away.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His fingers closed around the chain, stopping it mid-sway. He tugged gently, drawing me closer until my chest was almost against his.
“You think you’re subtle,” he said softly. “That’s cute.”
My breath caught painfully. “I don’t—”
“Stop.”
The word sliced through me.
He leaned in, his mouth close to my ear, close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin.
“Victor is very bad at keeping secrets,” he murmured.
My blood turned to ice.
“I knew you were coming the moment he made the call,” Luca continued calmly. “I knew what you were carrying, what he promised you.”
I froze completely.
“Then why am I still alive?” I whispered.
He leaned back, studying my face. His grip tightened slightly on the necklace, not enough to choke, just enough to remind me he could.
“Because you didn’t want to be here,” he said. “I can always tell.”
My vision blurred with unshed tears I refused to let fall.
“Please.”
He tilted his head.
“Please what?”
“Please don’t punish my family for this,” I said, the words tearing out of me. “I’ll take whatever you want. Just leave them out of it.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Luca laughed softly.
“You think I’d bother punishing you?” he said. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be sitting on my lap.”
His hand slid from my necklace to my chin, lifting my face. His touch was firm, possessive.
“I don’t like liars,” he said. “But I respect desperation.”
His thumb brushed under my lip, smearing lipstick. My breath hitched, traitorous and weak.
“Kiss me,” he said.
It was not a request.
I hesitated, my lips inches from his. Every instinct screamed danger. This was not part of the plan. This was not something I could undo.
His fingers tightened on my chin.
“Kiss me, Aria,” he repeated. “Or we end this very differently.”
I closed my eyes.
And I kissed him.
It was not soft.
It was not sweet.
His mouth was demanding, unyielding, claiming. He kissed me like he owned the right, like my resistance amused him. His other hand came to my waist, holding me still as he deepened the kiss, his control absolute.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Heat curled low in my stomach, shameful and undeniable. I hated myself for it. Hated the way my lips parted, the way my hands clutched at his jacket for balance.
He broke the kiss abruptly, leaving me breathless and shaken.
“There it is,” he murmured. “That fire.”
I stared at him, chest heaving.
“You’re cruel.”
“Yes,” he agreed easily.
He pushed me off his lap, standing smoothly. For a terrifying moment, I thought he was about to call in his guards.
Instead, he adjusted his cufflinks.
“You’re done here,” he said. “Go.”
I blinked. “Go?”
He opened the door.
“Victor will pay you. He won’t bother you again.”
Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled.
“But,” Luca continued, his voice deceptively calm, “if I see you in this club again, I won’t be so generous.”
I nodded, too shaken to speak, and fled.
I did not stop running until I was outside, gulping in cool night air like a drowning woman breaking the surface.
I went home with fifty thousand dollars in my bag and dread in my chest.
The next morning, the knock came.
It was early. Too early.
I opened the door to find two men in black suits standing in the hallway.
“Aria Moreau,” one of them said. “Mr. Moretti would like to see you.”
My heart plummeted.
“I already—”
“This is not a request.”
I looked back into the apartment. Clara was asleep on the couch. My mother lay in her room, pale and fragile.
“I need to—”
“He’s already taken care of your mother’s medical bills,” the man said calmly. “All of them.”
My breath left me in a rush.
“And he’s arranged a new place for your family,” he continued. “Safer. Better.”
My hands trembled.
“Why?”
The man’s lips curved slightly.
“Because Mr. Moretti doesn’t like unfinished business.”
I was escorted into a black car that smelled like leather and inevitability.
Luca waited for me in a high-rise apartment that overlooked the city like a throne room of glass and steel. He stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.
“You didn’t run,” he said without turning.
“I didn’t have anywhere to run to,” I replied quietly.
He turned then, his gaze locking onto mine.
“Good,” he said. “That means we understand each other.”
“I’m not your property,” I said, summoning what little courage I had left.
He crossed the room in long, measured steps, stopping inches from me.
“Not yet,” Luca said softly. “But you will be.”
His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness.
“And you’re going to stay right here,” he continued. “Where I can see you. Where no one else touches you.”
My heart thundered.
“You saved my family,” I whispered. “Why?”
His eyes darkened.
“I don’t save people,” he said. “I collect them.”
The truth of his words settled over me like a cage snapping shut.
And as his fingers tilted my chin up again, forcing me to meet his gaze, I realized something terrifying.
I had not escaped Luca Moretti.
More like I had stepped deeper into his world.
- Writer
