OWNED BY THE WRONG HEIR

CHAPTER 5: DANGEROUS GROUND

*Chapter 5: Dangerous Ground*

The elevator doors closed on Ava, but she didn’t go far.

She made it to the lobby before her legs gave out. The polished marble floor, the cold glass walls, the hum of the building’s air system—all of it felt too sharp, too real. She sank onto one of the leather benches by the entrance, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Her lips still tingled from Luca’s kiss. Her skin still burned where his hands had been on her waist.

Stupid, she told herself. Reckless. Dangerous.

And yet she couldn’t make herself stand up and walk out.

Her phone buzzed in her bag. Her mother, probably. Or the landlord. Or no one at all. She didn’t check. She couldn’t. Her whole body felt like it was humming, like she’d touched a live wire and hadn’t let go.

Upstairs, Luca didn’t move from where she’d left him. He stood by the window again, hands in his pockets, watching the street below. But he wasn’t seeing the city. He was seeing her. The way she’d looked at him when he’d said her name. The way she’d closed the distance between them like she was tired of fighting it.

He’d told himself he wouldn’t touch her. That this was business, protection, leverage. Lies. All of it. The moment she’d stepped close enough to touch, something in him had snapped.

He crossed the room and pressed the elevator button.

When the doors opened on the lobby level, Ava looked up. Her eyes widened.

“You followed me,” she said.

“I didn’t let you leave,” Luca corrected. He stepped out, closing the distance between them. His suit jacket was gone, his tie loosened. He looked less controlled than he had an hour ago. Less like the man who ran a room with a glance, and more like someone who’d been pushed too far. “Not like this.”

Ava stood, putting the bench between them. Her heart was hammering. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” Luca said. His voice was rough, low. “Because you didn’t want me to stop.”

The air in the lobby felt thin. The guard at the desk kept his eyes forward, pretending not to see. Ava was acutely aware of how exposed they were, how easy it would be for someone to walk in and see them like this.

“This is a mistake,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound sure.

“Probably,” Luca said. He didn’t reach for her. He didn’t have to. The pull between them was already there, magnetic and reckless. “But I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”

The words hit her harder than they should have. She’d expected threats, manipulation, cold strategy. Not honesty. Not that.

Ava shook her head, but her feet moved before her brain caught up. She crossed the space between them in two steps, and this time she didn’t hesitate. Her hands found his shirt, her mouth found his, and the kiss was deeper, hotter, full of everything they’d been holding back.

Luca’s hands came up to frame her face, then slid to her back, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard line of his body through his shirt, the way his control was fraying. Her own was gone.

“Luca,” she breathed against his mouth. His name sounded like surrender.

He didn’t answer. He just took her hand and led her back to the elevator. No one stopped them. No one spoke. The guard didn’t even blink.

The doors closed.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then Luca turned, caging her between his arms against the wall. His forehead rested against hers. “Tell me to stop,” he said, and it sounded like a plea.

Ava’s fingers curled in his shirt. “I can’t.”

That was all it took.

The kiss that followed wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was urgent, messy, full of hands and breath and the kind of wanting that drowns out reason. Luca’s mouth moved to her jaw, her throat, and Ava tipped her head back, letting him. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, then to his hair, gripping like she was afraid he’d disappear.

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended. Time felt stretched, slow enough to feel like the world had stopped. Luca’s hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly, and Ava wrapped her legs around his waist without thinking. She could feel the heat of him through their clothes, the tension in his muscles, the way he was barely holding himself together.

When the doors opened on his floor, neither of them pulled away. Luca carried her across the threshold, his mouth never leaving hers. The apartment was dark, the city lights casting long shadows across the floor. Somewhere a phone buzzed and went silent.

What happened next wasn’t gentle. It was raw, needy, built on hours of tension and anger and fear. Clothes were shed in pieces, hands were everywhere, and neither of them spoke much—there was no need. The only sounds were breathing, the rustle of fabric, the quiet scrape of Luca’s back against the wall as Ava pulled him closer.

At some point, they made it to the bedroom. At some point, the rest of the world fell away. Ava wasn’t thinking about her mother’s phone call or her father’s debt or the men who’d shot Luca. She was thinking about the way Luca’s name felt on her tongue, the way his hands were careful even when he wasn’t, the way he kept checking her eyes like he needed permission over and over.

And she kept giving it.

Later, the room was dark except for the glow of the city outside. Ava lay on her side, Luca’s arm draped over her waist, his breath warm against her shoulder. Her skin felt sensitive, her limbs heavy. She stared at the ceiling and tried to remember who she was before she’d walked into that alley.

Luca’s voice broke the silence. “Regret it?”

Ava didn’t answer right away. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, steady and strong. She thought about the guard downstairs, about her mother, about the folder with her father’s name on it. She thought about how dangerous this was, how stupid, how she’d just tied herself to a man she didn’t trust with her body and maybe her life.

Then: “No. But I should.”

Luca’s thumb traced slow circles on her hip. “Then don’t,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

She closed her eyes. For now, she wouldn’t.

They didn’t sleep. They talked, or rather, Luca talked and Ava listened. He told her things he hadn’t said before—about the men he was fighting, about why he needed her to be seen with him, about the risks he was taking by letting her this close. He didn’t tell her everything. She didn’t expect him to. But he told her enough that when she finally drifted off, her head resting on his chest, she understood a little more about the kind of world she’d stepped into.

When she woke, it was just before dawn. The room was still dark, but the sky outside was starting to lighten. Luca was awake, watching her.

“Go home,” he said softly. “Before your mother worries.”

Ava nodded, but she didn’t move. She reached up and touched his face, her fingers brushing over the bruise on his jaw. “This doesn’t fix anything,” she said.

“I know,” Luca said. “But it changes things.”

She dressed in silence, gathering her clothes from the floor. When she reached the door, she paused. “Luca?”

He looked up.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she said.

He didn’t promise. He just held her gaze. “I’ll try.”

Outside, the city was starting to wake up. Delivery trucks rumbled past, the first commuters hurried to the subway. Ava pulled her coat tighter around herself and stepped into the cold morning air. Her lips were still swollen. Her body ached in places she wasn’t used to. And her head was a mess of contradictions—fear and relief, anger and something that felt dangerously close to trust.

She didn’t know what came next. She didn’t know if Luca would keep his word, or if the men who’d shot him would come for her, or if her father’s debt would drag her under.

But she knew one thing: she’d crossed a line tonight, and there was no going back.

And Luca, standing at the window and watching her walk away, felt something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. Because losing her now wouldn’t just cost him leverage. It would cost him everything he hadn’t realized he wanted.