I zipped the last of my suitcases shut, the sound sharp in the sterile silence of Luca’s penthouse. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and his gaze full of frustration.
“You’re safer here,” he said, his voice low. After seeing how determined I was to leave, he stopped being pushy and just let me pack up. He may have thought that if he tried a gentle approach, I would change my mind, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
“Safe? Safe from whom? The press? Or you?” I snapped, refusing to meet his eyes.
He stepped closer, his cologne—smoke and citrus—filling the space between us. “You think I’d hurt you?”
“I think you’d burn the world to keep me. That’s what scares me. After all, I am part of the world too. You sound like you’d be content with my ashes. Like you’d burn me too if it mean
