CHAPTER SEVEN
1858 Words
Ava woke with a headache that felt like someone was hammering behind her eyes.
Her mouth was dry, her thoughts blurry, and the memory.
The memory hit her like cold water.
The club.
The music.
The heat of the room.
And Luca’s mouth just a breath away from hers.
Her stomach flipped.
“Oh God..” she whispered into her pillow.
She didn’t remember leaving the club. Didn’t remember getting home. What she remembered far too clearly was the feel of Luca’s hand brushing her cheek, the way his eyes darkened right before she leaned in, the softness of that barely-there contact.
A mistake.
A dangerous mistake.
A career-ending, life-threatening mistake.
Ava sat up, groaning as the room spun. Her living room was dim, curtains half drawn, her shoes lying in two separate directions like they’d run away from each other. On the table sat a half finished water bottle and one of Leah’s glittery hair clips.
Right. Leah must have dragged her home. Thank God.
Ava pressed a hand to her forehead.
No thinking about Luca. No thinking about what almost happened.
She needed clarity. Coffee. A plan.
But clarity didn’t come. Instead, her phone buzzed.
Her heart dropped.
An unknown number.
She stared at the screen for a long, pulseless moment before answering.
“Ava Morel.”
A beat of silence. Then..
“You drink recklessly.”
Her breath caught. His voice. Smooth, deep, calm.
She closed her eyes. “Why are you calling me?”
“You kissed me.”
“I did not,” she snapped too quickly.
“You almost did,” he corrected, annoyingly steady. “And that tells me more about you than your entire article.”
She gritted her teeth. “Last night was a mistake.”
“Your courage or your loss of control?” he asked.
“Both.”
Another pause. Ava hated how hard her heart was beating. She hated even more the fact that he didn’t sound angry.
Or amused.
He sounded..calculating.
“I told you to walk away,” Luca said quietly. “And instead, you came closer.”
“That was alcohol,” she fired back.
“It was honesty.”
Ava nearly threw her phone. “I’m not discussing this with you.”
“You won’t have a choice,” he said. His tone wasn’t threatening. It was factual. Certain. “We’ll be seeing each other soon.”
Click.
He hung up.
Ava stared at the phone, stunned and furious.
Seeing him? Why?
Was he planning to silence her? Warn her? Manipulate her?
Or..something else?
No.
Absolutely not.
She wasn’t letting him into her head.
Not again.
Ava showered, dressed, and forced herself out the door. The cold London air slapped her awake immediately.
She needed to go to the newsroom.
She needed to think.
She needed distance.
But when she stepped outside her building, she froze.
A black car was parked across the street. Same model she’d seen near the docks.
Same tinted windows.
Same cold presence.
A man stood beside it dark suit, earpiece, expression blank.
Watching her.
Ava forced herself to walk, chin high.
She would not show fear.
She would not look away.
But as she passed the car, the back window rolled down a fraction.
Just enough for her to see a familiar pair of eyes watching her.
Luca.
A chill ran down her spine.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t gesture.
He just held her gaze quiet, unblinking, controlled.
The car pulled away before she could react, leaving nothing but wind and the faint smell of expensive cologne.
Ava swallowed hard.
Last night wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
Ava kept replaying the morning in her head Luca’s call, the watching car, the silent stare as she walked into the bustling newsroom. Phones rang, printers clicked, keyboards clattered, but all the noise did nothing to steady her.
Her editor, Martin, waved her over. “Ava! Good. You’re here. We need to talk.”
Of course they did. Nothing in her life lately came without that chilling sentence.
She approached his glass office, avoiding eye contact with coworkers who already whispered about her investigation. The moment she entered, Martin closed the door.
“You look..tired,” he said, studying her.
“Didn’t sleep well.”
“Working on Luca Romano will do that,” he muttered, tapping his pen. “Listen, Ava. The board has concerns.”
Her stomach tightened. “About the article draft?”
“No. About you.”
That was worse.
Martin leaned forward. “There was a leak last night. Romano’s lawyers know you’re investigating him. They want a meeting.”
Ava’s blood ran cold. “A meeting? Why me?”
“You’re the lead journalist, and they claim there are inaccuracies.”
Her throat went dry. “There aren’t.”
“I know that. You know that.” He sighed. “But he’s powerful. And the board thinks it’s better to appease him. At least pretend to.”
Ava heard the unspoken truth.
They were scared of him.
Martin continued, “Their office requested you specifically. Noon today. Don’t argue, Ava. Just go, listen, and be smart.”
“Smart,” she repeated under her breath. “As in don’t get myself killed?”
He didn’t laugh. “Exactly.”
London Noon
A black car sleek, silent, and entirely too familiar pulled up exactly at twelve. The driver stepped out, perfectly expressionless.
“Miss Ava Morel,” he said. Not asked. Stated.
Ava swallowed. “I guess that’s me.”
He opened the back door. “Mr. Romano is expecting you.”
Her pulse spiked.
Him? Not his lawyers?
She hesitated for half a second too long.
The driver’s tone sharpened. “Now, Miss Morel.”
She slid into the car before her courage could abandon her. Inside, the temperature was cool, the air scented faintly of leather and expensive restraint.
Luca wasn’t there.
That somehow felt worse.
The ride was silent too silent. No radio. No small talk. Just the hum of the engine and the heavy awareness that she was heading straight into the territory of a man she should never have kissed..almost kissed..even by accident.
The car eventually slowed, pulling into the gated entrance of a luxurious riverside building modern glass, steel edges, and enough security personnel to guard a government official.
Ava’s heart thudded.
This wasn’t an office.
It was his home.
The Penthouse
The elevator opened directly into a towering penthouse overlooking all of London floor to ceiling windows, marble floors, minimalist furniture, and silence so thick she could hear her heartbeat.
And there he was.
Standing with his back to her, hands in his pockets, gazing out at the skyline like he owned every inch of it.
Luca Romano.
He didn’t turn. “You came.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Ava said, proud her voice didn’t shake.
“That’s what you think.”
Her jaw clenched. “Why am I here?”
He finally turned, his eyes locking onto hers with a slow, deliberate intensity that made her spine stiffen. He looked nothing like the man she’d almost kissed in a dim club. He was sharper now controlled, unreadable, dangerous.
“You wrote interesting things about me,” he said calmly.
“They’re true.”
“Truth,” he repeated softly, “is a matter of perspective.”
She exhaled sharply. “Intimidating me won’t change the facts.”
Luca stepped closer, not touching her, not crowding her just close enough for her to feel the power he carried like a second skin.
“I’m not here to intimidate you,” he said. “If I wanted you afraid, you would know.”
A chill shot through her.
“Then what do you want?” she asked.
His eyes flicked over her face curious, calculating, studying her as though she was a puzzle he intended to solve.
“I want correction,” Luca said. “Your article hints at things you don’t fully understand. You’re writing about a world you’ve never stepped into.”
“I don’t want to step into your world,” she shot back.
“You already have.”
Her breath stalled.
He continued, “You walk around asking questions you shouldn’t. You go places where names are currency and silence is survival. People have noticed you.”
“I’m a journalist. Not your enemy.”
“And yet,” he said, “you’re being treated like one.”
Ava tried not to show the fear curling in her stomach. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” His voice dipped lower. “I’m warning you.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Why? Why do you care what happens to me?”
Luca studied her face, as though weighing a truth he wouldn’t speak.
“You ask reckless questions,” he said instead. “And you draw attention you don’t know how to handle. Last night was proof of that.”
Her cheeks heated. “You mean when I almost”
“Kissed me?” he finished.
Ava swallowed. “It wasn’t real.”
“It was real enough to make certain people wonder why a journalist investigating me was close enough to touch my mouth.”
Her knees weakened.
“You’re not safe,” Luca said plainly. “Not because of me. But because of those watching you. And because you refuse to stop.”
Ava drew a shaky breath. “So what do you expect me to do? Quit?”
“No.” His voice sharpened. “I expect you to be cautious. I expect you to understand what you’re walking into. And I expect you to listen when I say that you will not meet with certain individuals again.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your contact at the Blackwater docks,” he said. “The man you interviewed Marcus DeLowe. Don’t see him again.”
Ava’s stomach twisted. “How do you know”
“I know everything,” he cut in. “And Marcus isn’t as harmless as you think.”
Her voice grew small. “Why tell me this?”
“Because someone needs to keep you alive,” he said simply. “And you clearly can’t do it alone.”
He walked past her, pausing at the elevator.
“Our conversation is not finished,” he said. “But for now go home. And stay there tonight.”
Ava glared at his back. “You don’t give me orders.”
“Yet you’ll follow this one,” he said without looking at her.
“You think too highly of yourself.”
He finally turned his head slightly, the shadow of something unreadable in his expression.
“No, Ava. I think too highly of danger.”
The elevator doors slid open.
And without understanding why, Ava stepped inside.
As the doors closed between them, her pulse hammered.
This wasn’t an interview.
This wasn’t intimidation.
This wasn’t anything she understood.
But one thing was certain:
Luca Romano had just placed her under his protection..
Whether she wanted it or not.
- Writer
