BOUND BY VOWS

Chapter 4

The Fire Between Us

Alessia didn’t touch the knife.

Not at first.

She let it sit on her nightstand, gleaming under the soft glow of her lamp. A silent reminder that Luca was always watching. Always

one step ahead.

Or so he thought.

Because he had just proven something else—he cared enough to warn her.

And that?

It was something she could use.

An Invitation to Trouble

By the next evening, she was ready.

The Moretti estate was hosting another gathering, this time smaller—only a select few from their world. Luca would be there.

Which meant she had a chance to push him.

To test how far she could go before he snapped.

Alessia chose her dress carefully.

A deep, blood-red silk that clung to her curves in all the right places.

Low-cut. Backless. A quiet rebellion wrapped in elegance.

When she stepped into the grand hall, the murmur of conversation faltered for half a second. She felt the weight of every gaze, but

there was only one she cared about.

And when she found him—when she saw those dark, unreadable eyes across the room—she knew she had won this round.

Because Luca froze.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for her to see it.

Then, his expression smoothed, turning into something sharper. More dangerous.

A slow, lazy smirk curved his lips as he lifted his glass to her in silent acknowledgment.

Game on.

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It didn’t take long for him to corner her.

She had expected it.

Welcomed it.

But she hadn’t expected this.

One moment, she was walking through the dimly lit corridor leading to the balcony. The next, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist,

pulling her into the shadows.

A gasp escaped her lips as she was spun around, her back pressing against the cool stone wall.

Luca stood before her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

His eyes burned with something dark and electric as they raked over her.

“Playing dangerous games, bella?” he murmured.

Alessia tilted her chin up, refusing to let him see the way her breath hitched. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Luca’s fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, slow and deliberate.

A touch that was both a warning and a promise.

“You wore this,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher, “for me.”

She swallowed. “I wore it for myself.”

A soft chuckle. “Liar.”

His hand slid lower, fingertips tracing the bare skin of her shoulder, then lower still, along the curve of her waist.

Not enough to be indecent.

But just enough to set her entire body on fire.

“You want my attention, Cara Mia?” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You already have it.”

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Not because she was afraid.

But because she hated the way her pulse betrayed her.

Hated the way his touch made her forget—for just one reckless moment—that he was her enemy.

She turned her head, just enough to look him in the eye.

“You think you can control me?” she whispered.

Luca smirked.

Then, in a move so quick she barely had time to react, he lifted her hand—holding it between them.

And when she glanced down—when she saw what he had placed in her palm—her breath caught.

The knife.

The same blade he had embedded in her balcony railing the night before.

Her eyes snapped back up to his, heart hammering.

His gaze was unreadable, but his next words sent a shiver down her spine.

“If you really want to fight me, bella…” His fingers curled around hers, pressing the knife against her palm. “…then use it.”

The air between them was molten.

Every inch of her body screamed at her to do something—push him away, pull him closer, run.

But she did none of those things.

Instead, she tightened her grip on the knife.

Met his gaze without flinching.

And smiled.

Because two could play this game.

And if Luca DeLuca wanted fire?

She would burn him alive.

A Challenge Accepted

Luca’s smirk widened, his grip tightening around hers.

Then he leaned in, so close that his breath was warm against her lips.

“I look forward to it,” he murmured.

Then he let go.

Stepped back.

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving Alessia standing in the shadows, her pulse racing, the knife still clenched in her hand.

A weapon.

A warning.

A promise.

She exhaled slowly.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

It was war.