CHAPTER NINE
1697 Words
LUCA
Her lips were still swollen from my kiss. Her cheeks flushed, her pulse erratic. Every part of her screamed mine, and yet she sat before me trembling, as if she wasn’t sure whether to run or collapse into me.
I should have stepped back. I should have let her breathe. Instead, I stayed. My hands locked on her waist, unwilling to release what I’d almost lost to restraint.
“You… you can’t keep doing this to me,” she whispered, voice breaking.
Doing what? Dragging her deeper into the fire? Claiming her in ways neither of us could deny?
My thumb brushed her cheek, my eyes locked on hers. “Doing what, dolcezza bambina? Reminding you that what’s between us is real?”
She flinched at the word "real. “You’re dangerous.”
A humorless smile tugged at my mouth. “Only to those who threaten what’s mine.”
Her silence was answer enough. I guided her toward the bed, my touch gentler now, deliberate, though the urge to take her surged like a storm under my skin. I sat at the edge, tugging her beside me. She followed, hesitant but willing.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” I said quietly. “Afraid of my world, yes. But not me.”
That was the truth she didn’t understand. Everything else could burn, but not her. Never her.
I reached for the blanket and drew it around her shoulders, covering her like something precious. She blinked at me as if she didn’t recognize the man tucking her in—the man who had blood on his hands but brushed her hair from her face like she was glass.
“Rest,” I murmured. “You need your strength.”
But she didn’t close her eyes. Her gaze clung to me, wide and uncertain, as if she wanted to believe I was more than the monster she feared. And when her cheek pressed against my hand, when she leaned into me instead of pulling away… I almost broke.
My thumb traced her bottom lip, slow, deliberate. The softest part of her, and the part I most wanted to ruin.
“Dolcezza…” My voice came out rough, unsteady. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Her breath hitched. “Then show me.”
Dio. I almost did. My blood roared with need, with the kind of hunger I’d never felt for another woman. But she wasn’t ready. And when I finally took her, it wouldn’t be like this—not rushed, not stolen.
I bent down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Soft. Reverent. A promise.
“Not tonight,” I whispered against her skin. “When I take you, it won’t be in the heat of stolen moments. It will be because you’re ready to be mine completely.”
Her breath shuddered, her eyes wide. She didn’t realize it yet, but I’d already decided.
Soon, Iris Rodriguez would be mine.
Completely.
__________
IRIS
When I woke, the space beside me was empty, the sheets cold. For a heartbeat, I thought I had dreamed it all—his kiss, his touch, the way he tucked the blanket around me like I was something breakable.
But the scent of him still lingered, dark and heady. Real,the door opened and I froze.
Luca stepped inside. Not in his usual armor of sharp suits and pressed collars. Not the don the city whispered about. But in a simple black sweater, dark jeans, his hair a little tousled.
I blinked, unable to hide the small smile tugging at my lips.
“What?” His brows lifted, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.
“I just—” I swallowed. “I didn’t know you owned anything casual.”
That earned me a low chuckle. “Get dressed, dolcezza bambina. I’m taking you out.”
---
He drove himself. That alone unsettled me. No driver, no tinted glass, no wall of shadows between him and the world. Just Luca, one hand on the wheel, his sunglasses catching the light.
When he parked, my heart squeezed.
It wasn’t a glittering restaurant with chandeliers or private rooms guarded by men with guns. It was a small trattoria tucked into a quiet street, the smell of baked bread drifting out the door.
“It’s… normal,” I breathed.
Luca smirked faintly. “Try not to sound so shocked.”
We sat at a small table outside, under a striped awning. A bottle of wine appeared, bread, pasta with steam curling into the air.
For the first time, I forgot to be afraid.
“Tell me something,” I said, surprising myself. “Something real. Not about the mafia. Just… you.”
Luca leaned back in his chair, studying me like I’d just given him a puzzle no one had dared before.
Finally, he shrugged. “I hate ties.”
I blinked. “Ties?”
His lips curved. “I wear them because it makes people take me seriously. But I can’t stand the damn things. First thing I do when I’m home—rip it off.”
A laugh broke out of me before I could stop it. The sound felt strange, rusty. But Luca’s eyes softened in a way that made my chest ache.
“And you?” he asked.
I hesitated, then said quietly, “I read the endings of books before I finish them.”
His brow arched. “Why?”
“So I know if it’s worth the heartbreak.”
For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then his gaze darkened, and his voice dropped. “Some heartbreaks are worth it, dolcezza.”
The air shifted. Heat flickered between us, stronger than the sun warming the street.
Then his phone rang.
---
I watched as his jaw tightened, his tone sharp and clipped in Italian. The warmth from a second ago vanished, replaced by the cold steel I was used to seeing in him.
He hung up and turned to me, his expression unreadable. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
“What is it?” I asked, my stomach tightening.
“Business.” His voice was final. “I’ll be back.”
He strode off toward the corner, two of his men following like shadows.
I tried to stay still, to obey. But my nerves buzzed, my hands restless. The restroom sign caught my eye, and I stood, needing a moment away from curious eyes and the pressure of waiting.
The tiny bathroom was quiet, cool tiles against my skin as I splashed water on my face. I stayed there longer than I needed to, whispering to my reflection, Get a grip, Iris.
The door creaked open behind me. The sharp rhythm of heels echoed on the tiles, deliberate and slow. I froze.
I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
Her perfume reached me first—rich, expensive, heavy.
“Elena,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Her reflection appeared beside mine in the mirror, lips painted the color of blood, her smile small and poisonous. “So, you do know who I am.”
My throat tightened.
“Oh, sweet girl.” She took a step closer, her eyes gleaming. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into.”
I forced myself to breathe. “Whatever this is between you and Luca, it has nothing to do with me.”
Her laugh was soft and cruel. “Everything has to do with you. He never lets anyone close—and yet, here you are. The quiet little thing he brings to dinner like a trophy.”
I swallowed hard, staring down at the water pooling in the sink.
Elena reached out, her manicured finger lifting my chin until our eyes met. “Men like Luca don’t love, darling. They consume. When he’s done, he’ll spit you out, and there won’t be enough of you left to remember your name.”
I jerked back, her touch burning. “You’re wrong about him.”
Her smile widened, but her gaze turned cold. “We’ll see.”
She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the scent of roses and something darker behind.
For a long moment, I couldn’t move. My reflection looked pale and frightened—like I was staring at a version of myself I barely recognized.
I stayed longer than I needed to in the restroom, steadying my breath. My reflection didn’t look like me anymore—the shy girl in glasses who used to hide in café corners. She looked like someone balancing on the edge of fire.
When I finally pushed open the door and stepped back outside, the first thing I saw was Luca.
Not the composed don. Not the man who commanded entire rooms with a glance. But Luca—frantic, pacing the pavement in front of the trattoria, his hands raking through his hair, his jaw tight with something I’d never seen on him before.
Fear.
His head snapped up the second I appeared.
“Iris,” he growled, striding toward me. The air around him cracked with tension. Then he closed the distance, pulling me into his arms with a force that nearly knocked the air out of me.
My cheek pressed against his chest, and I felt the rapid thunder of his heartbeat.
He held me like a man starved, like I was the only thing tethering him to this world. “Don’t you ever do that again,” he rasped against my hair, his voice breaking in a way that shattered me.
“I just went to the restroom—”
“I thought I’d lost you.” His arms tightened, crushing, as if to prove to himself I was real. “Dio, dolcezza bambina… don’t ever walk away without me.”
For a long moment, I couldn’t breathe. Not because of his grip, but because of the raw desperation in it.
This wasn’t fake. Not anymore.
And standing there, wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous man I’d ever known, I realized something terrifying.
I didn’t want him to let go.
- Writer
