đ Chapter Four â âSecrets and Sinsâ
POV: Ariana Genovese | Word Count: ~1240 | Dark Mafia Romance
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The café was quiet, but the silence was never safe in this part of the city. Every table was occupied by men with guns tucked in their waistbands, whispers hidden behind espresso cups. No one spoke loudly. No one looked too long.
Except Lucas Anvordas.
He sprawled across from her in a velvet booth like he owned the world. Which, technically, he did â or at least what was left of it after his parents were gunned down in front of him at sixteen. Black shirt. Silver rings. A half-smile that didnât reach his eyes.
Ariana knew that look well. It was the one men wore when they were too young to be this dangerous.
He studied her like she was about to break.
âI know that face,â he said. âThatâs the âI did something I shouldnât have, but it felt too good to stopâ face.â
Ariana stared into her untouched drink. âIt wasnât supposed to happen.â
Lucas raised a brow. âAh. Now Iâm interested. Who was it? Donât say Enzo, Iâll have to shoot him on principle.â
She didnât laugh.
Her lips pressed together.
Lucas leaned forward slowly, his smirk fading. âWho?â
She hesitated.
Then whispered, âMatteo.â
Silence.
Only the quiet clink of silverware and the soft hum of a piano behind them.
Lucas blinked. âMatteo⊠De Luca?â
A nod.
His mouth parted slightly, and for once, the devil in him looked genuinely stunned. âYour stepfather?â
Her fingers tightened around the cup. âHeâs not my father.â
âNo, heâs not,â Lucas said, still processing. âBut damn, ArianaâŠâ
She let out a breath. âI know.â
âTell me everything.â His voice dropped, lower now, like they were sharing state secrets. âStart from the top. Donât hold back.â
She looked out the window. The city blurred beyond the rain-streaked glass. Then she turned back to him, eyes raw and honest.
âIâve wanted him for years, Lucas. Since before I even understood what that meant. Heâs always been cold, untouchable, like nothing in the world could shake him. And that made me want him more.â
Lucas didnât interrupt. Just listened.
âI used to imagine it,â she continued, voice barely above a whisper. âWhat it would feel like to have him touch me. To have him look at me like I was more than just⊠a stepdaughter. Like a woman. His.â
Her voice shook.
âIâd lie awake at night, thinking about his hands. The way he moves. The way he says my name like it doesnât mean anything, but his eyes say everything. I wanted him inside me for so long I thought I was going insane. Iâd close my eyes and picture itâhis mouth on my neck, my legs wrapped around him, me moaning his name like I was the only thing heâd ever claim.â
Lucas sat back, eyes dark with something unreadable.
âI never told anyone,â Ariana said. âNot even my mother, before she died. I knew it was wrong. But I didnât care. And nowâŠâ
âNow?â Lucas pressed gently.
She looked at him, eyes glittering.
âNow Iâve had him. Just once. He was drugged â aphrodisiac. Some bastard tried to poison him. I got to him in time, but he wasââ her voice broke, âhe was out of control. Not violent. Just⊠starved.â
She bit her lip, chest rising fast. âHe touched me like I was salvation. Made me come like I was his obsession. But when it was over, he went cold. Pretended it didnât mean anything.â
Lucas swore under his breath. âIdiot.â
âHeâs trying to protect me,â she said bitterly. âBut I donât want protection. I want him. All of him. The anger, the guilt, the twisted devotion. I want to ruin him like heâs ruined me.â
Lucas leaned in, elbows on the table.
âYou love him.â
A nod.
âAnd you want him.â
Another nod. Slower. Guiltier.
Lucasâs eyes softened â just barely.
âThen stop waiting for him to break. Make him. Seduce him.â
Ariana blinked. âWhat?â
Lucasâs grin returned, sharp and amused. âYou heard me. You want the king, you donât ask for the throne â you take it.â
âHeâll hate me.â
âNo,â Lucas said, shaking his head. âHe already loves you. Thatâs why heâs running. Men like Matteo donât fear bullets. They fear losing control. And you, Ariana? Youâre the only one who makes him lose it.â
She swallowed hard.
Lucas leaned closer. âYou want him inside you again? Wrapping his hands in your hair? Whispering filth in your ear while he fights not to love you harder than he already does?â
Ariana shivered. Heat pooled low in her stomach.
âThen donât play the good girl,â Lucas said. âPlay the temptation. Dress like a weapon. Touch him like itâs accidental. Talk back. Tease him. Make him want you until it drives him insane. And when he snaps? Be ready.â
Ariana stared down at her drink.
Then slowly, smiled.
âGod, youâre evil.â
Lucas clinked his glass to hers. âTakes one to know one.â
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Later, when she walked out of the café, the rain had stopped. The clouds were still thick, and the wind carried the scent of danger and gunpowder.
She felt it.
Something shifting.
No more waiting.
No more guilt.
If Matteo De Luca wouldnât come to her, she would go to him â painted in temptation, dripping in defiance, and wrapped in the kind of sin he couldnât resist.
She wasnât a little girl anymore.
She was a Genovese.
And she was going to make the devil burn.