Luca’s hand pulled at my clenched fingers, removing my hands from his arm. “Step back, Alessia,” he murmured under his breath.
Was he going to fight these men? There were three of them—he was going to get himself killed! “Luca, please, let’s just go.”
“Yeah, Luca, you should probably do what the bitch says and scurry on out of here. Hate for that pretty face of yours to get rearranged.”
The terror I’d felt for myself only seconds before quickly morphed into gut-clenching fear for Luca. The men facing him were ruthless and plenty large to land Luca on his ass … or worse.
In a matter of seconds, the scene descended into chaos.
The leader lifted his meaty fist and stepped forward, perhaps to take a swing or perhaps purely to intimidate—either way, I’d never know. Luca launched himself into action, delivering a punch to the man’s face with a sickening crunch before unleashing equally devastating blows to the other two men in quick succession.
When the men recovered from their surprise, they attempted to attack, but Luca bobbed and weaved like Floyd Mayweather dancing around the ring. He rained down destruction with his fists, knees, feet, even his elbows. Every part of him was a weapon. It was like watching an action hero movie play out before me.
Luca was a thing possessed.
In a matter of minutes, one of the thugs dropped to the ground unconscious, and the other two clambered away into the shadows. Luca watched their retreating forms, running a hand through his disheveled hair, then spat on the unconscious man’s motionless body. Aside from sweat dotting his forehead and tiny splatters of blood marring his white dress shirt, he appeared put together and unharmed.
He had seemed invincible.
Merciless.
He truly was an avenging angel. In the dusky shadows under the bridge, I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and never let go.
When he turned to find me, his blistering gaze locked on mine, and a sob of relief tore from my chest as I lunged for him. He pulled me snugly against him, holding me securely in the safe harbor of his embrace, allowing me the chance to process the shock of what had happened.
“Shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Luca murmured into my hair while his hand rubbed soothing circles against my back.
He didn’t ask me questions or push for answers. Instead, he offered me the simple comfort of his presence and reassurance.
Eventually, my shuddered breathing calmed, and I lifted my tear-streaked face to his. “Thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t … I don’t know what would have …” My throat closed up with the thought, unable to utter the words.
“Let’s get you home, then we can talk.” He pulled back, giving my body a once over before gritting his teeth and taking my hand in his. Luca led me toward a cross street where he hailed a cab. He helped me inside, keeping a hand on me at all times. He gave the cabbie my address, and I numbly noted that my keys and purse were back at the office, so he rerouted the cab to Triton.
“I’m running up to get your things—you don’t move, understood?” he instructed as he extracted himself from the backseat.
I nodded shakily, too disoriented to object. “My purse is in my bottom left drawer. I think I left my phone on the desk.” They would wonder where I’d gone at work, but I didn’t care. I would deal with the fallout of my disappearance later.
When Luca returned, he handed me my things and directed the cab to my place. I didn’t know what his plan was, nor did I care. I was just relieved to have someone else run the show. I was too overwhelmed to make decisions—first the Roger incident, then the attempted mugging and watching Luca beat the men to a bloody pulp. My brain struggled to process it all, stuck in a feedback loop of images, unable to assign meaning to any of it.
Luca led me upstairs, using my keys to open the door and taking me straight back to my bathroom. He didn’t turn on the light, opting to rely on the soft sunlight filtering in through the windows. Stepping into the glass shower stall, he turned on the water, then stood in front of me.
“Let’s get you in the shower—it will help you feel better. Lift your arms,” he ordered huskily.
I did as I was told.
I felt safe in Luca’s care. Maybe it was a mistake, but at that moment, I needed to feel safe. I wasn’t thinking about what I should do or the consequences of my actions. I was letting Luca make the calls because it felt right.
He felt right.
I was tired of overthinking. I just wanted to feel good, and Luca gave me that.
He lifted my blouse over my head. The silk trailing over my torso and arms was something I experienced every day, but under Luca’s watchful eye, I felt each inch of my skin stir to life as the soft fabric drifted by. He discarded the blouse on the floor without taking his eyes from my body, then placed his wide hands on my hips and directed me to turn around before lowering the zipper on the back of my skirt and allowing the fabric to pool at my feet. I stepped out of my heels as Luca’s hands glided from my lower back up to my bra strap. With a simple touch, the clasp sprung free. His hands came up to slip the straps over my shoulders, pausing on my upper arms.
“He marked you,” Luca murmured, caressing the bruised skin. “I should have killed them.”
I turned slowly to face him, totally exposed except for a scrap of silk covering my most private area. Luca’s face was a study in harsh lines and turbulent emotions, and somehow, seeing him upset on my behalf made me feel better. Knowing he cared, that he was there to protect me, was exactly what I needed.
I lifted my hands under his jacket and swept the fabric down over his shoulders. His eyes flashed with guarded hunger as his fingers began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. One article at a time, we undressed until we were fully exposed to one another.
Luca was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
My breathing became shallow as my eyes raked down his sculpted body. Every aspect was absolute perfection—tanned, olive skin with a smattering of black hair on his chest trailing down his taut stomach to where his thick shaft pointed eagerly toward me. Everything about him was solid and powerful—there wasn’t a soft place on his body.
“Let’s get you in the shower before I bend you over the sink.” His voice was a guttural growl, a testament to his tenuous grip over his control.
I stepped inside the stall, reveling in the scalding water and warm cloud of steam as it helped heat my frozen body. Once my hair was wet, Luca poured shampoo into his hand and had me step out of the stream of water. His thick fingers scrubbed my scalp, lathering the soap through my long hair.
To keep myself steady, my hands came out to hold onto his sides, which flexed and twitched under my fingers. Fascinated with the movement of his body, my hands trailed over to his abs, fingertips grazing along the curves and dips of each muscle.
“Rinse,” he barked, and my eyes snapped up to his face.
He was on the very edge of his control, dangling from a single thread.
I leaned my head back and rinsed the suds from my hair, feeling the water trail between my breasts and along my body where I sensed his piercing gaze. When I opened my eyes, Luca was fisting his cock, lazily stroking over the thick, red tip. Taking the bar of soap, he lathered his hands before bringing them up to massage my aching breasts, his thumbs swiping past my peaked nipples.
My body arched into his hands, the feel of his touch more consuming than I could have imagined. Abandoning his restraint, Luca let lose a savage growl and hefted me into his arms.
“I only meant to wash you, to help you get that asshole’s touch off you, but I can’t do it. I need to fuck you, Alessia.” He moved us under the spray of water to rinse away the soap, then pressed my back against the cool tile, and I gasped, arching away from the cold. He used my movement to take my breast into his warm mouth, sucking angrily at the flesh. When he released me with an audible pop, the sensation sent a zing of pleasure straight to my core.
“Wait, Luca. I’m on the pill, but what about protection?” I asked breathlessly.
“I had myself checked after our ride in the elevator.”
“Presumptuous.”
“Confident.”
“What about me? I haven’t been checked since my last annual.”
“Have you gone bare since then?” he asked, teeth clenched at the suggestion.
“No.”
His lips pulled back in a predator’s grin before he dropped his hips and impaled me against the wall. I gasped deeply, my head pushing back against the tile to help ease the pressure from his intrusion. Luca leaned in to nip and suck at my neck, easing out of me before pressing back inside in a slow but steady rhythm.
“I’m the only one who gets to mark you,” he ground out as his thrusts picked up speed. “Anyone else fucking touches you, and I will bury them.”
His words stoked the fire building inside me, and I clung to his shoulders to keep from incinerating. His scalding touch, the heat pulsing in my core—it was too much. I could feel the flames licking, burning my insides. I was going to ignite, and I wasn’t sure I would survive the inferno. Not as the girl I’d been. The blaze between us was life-altering, but there was no way to back out now.
Luca pounded inside me, stoking the flames, and I could feel parts of me going molten and fusing to Luca, welding us together. I panted and clawed, overcome with the magnitude of sensation as the fire engulfed me, and I exploded into flame. My muscles seized, twitching and contracting as fiery pleasure coursed through my veins.
I only vaguely noticed when Luca grunted his release. Pulling me tightly against him, he trembled as his cock pulsed inside me, and my flames slowly burned themselves out. There was no fuel left for the fire, only rubble.
I lay against him, smoldering in the ashes of the girl I’d been only moments before.
Never in a million years would I have thought sex could be transformative, but that was before Luca. I knew deep in my bones, as I clung to his shoulders, water dripping from our quivering bodies, that my life would never be the same.
13
Alessia
“How did you find me under the bridge?” I asked as we recovered in my bed some minutes later. Luca lay on his back with me draped over him, my head on his shoulder as I listened to his thudding heartbeat.
“One of the security guards told me you had left the building.”
“You asked a security guard about me?”
“No, he called me to tell me you’d left.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I paid him to.”
“What? Why?” I lifted onto my elbow and stared down at Luca, his face impassive.
“Does it matter?” he asked somberly.
“Yes, I want to know what’s going on here.” I searched his face, trying to figure out what to make of his admission.
“I told you I’m not like most men. When I see something I want, I go after it, whether that means an unexpected elevator mishap or coincidental meetings on the street. I’m that way in all aspects of my life. If there is a business venture I want to take part in, I ensure it happens. I will never sit by and simply hope good fortune falls into my lap.”
Was he telling me he’d set up the elevator malfunction just to talk with me? And he’d … what … paid the security guards to keep an eye on me? Holy shit. Was I horrified or flattered? My gaze dropped from his face down to where his hand rested against his chest, his knuckles raw and bloody. Luca had kept tabs on me, and that had saved me. My stomach clenched viciously to think of what would have happened had he not come after me.
Getting up from the bed, I retrieved a first aid kit in the bathroom and sat cross-legged on the bed next to him. “Let me clean up your hands,” I said softly as I twisted the cap off a tube of ointment and took his hand in mine.
I glanced up, and our eyes met. His obsidian gaze flashed with lust so tangible, it stirred goosebumps across my skin. I offered a shy smile, and he smirked back.
“I take it that means I’m forgiven?”
“How about you tell me where you learned to fight like that.” I still wasn’t sure what to think of Luca, but condemning him for his actions was difficult when they had saved me from what could have been a horrible nightmare.
“Growing up, I was in my fair share of fights.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling as he spoke about his past. “As I got older, hitting the heavy bag became a great stress reliever. I worked with a trainer for a few years, did some sparring, but never any actual matches. Now, I mostly hit the bag on my own. I like to stay fit—you never know when you’ll need to defend yourself.”
His eyes dropped back to me, but I avoided his gaze, repacking the items into the kit. I’d done a great job pushing thoughts of my attack to the back of my mind, but his reminder brought them back in frightening clarity. I could taste the fear I’d felt when I was backed against that cement column. I never wanted to experience that terror again.
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question,” Luca said, drawing my eyes back to his and my thoughts to the present. “Why were you out wandering the city in the middle of the day?”
I took a deep breath and dropped my eyes down to where my hands were folded in my lap. “My boss said something that upset me, and I’ve been under so much stress, I just needed to take a breather. I was so lost in my head, I didn’t notice how far I’d wandered.”
When he didn’t respond, I peered up at him. Luca was unrecognizable. He looked like another man entirely—someone terrifying. Those dark eyes that normally devoured me with such heat were cut shards of glass, and his angular jaw was rigid with tension. He rose up to sit across from me, his eyes boring into mine.
“What did he say to you?” The words were a menacing rumble. His ire wasn’t directed at me, but it was frightening, nonetheless.
“It doesn’t matter what he said. I went to HR to file a complaint, so he’ll be dealt with. I don’t want to rehash what happened with him or think about the incident under the bridge. Can we talk about something else?” I had misled him by insinuating I had filed a complaint, but I was going to at the earliest opportunity, so a small white lie wouldn’t matter.
His eyes narrowed, but he conceded. “You said you were under a lot of stress—what else has been bothering you?”
You. Us. “My parents always stress me out.”
“How so?”
“Maybe it sounds childish, but I never feel like I measure up. I have two sisters—the younger one is an artist who can do no wrong, and the oldest was taken under my father’s wing a long time ago, a few years after our brother died. I’ve always been stuck in the middle, the odd man out. I even went to school to work at my dad’s company, and most of the time, I’m not sure he notices I’m there.”
“I think it sounds perfectly reasonable to want their praise, but you can’t let their opinions rule you forever.”
“I know, and I’m finally starting to realize their opinions don’t matter. It doesn’t change anything if Dad is proud of me or not. I have to live my life in a way that makes me happy—it’s my life.” I was pleased with the conviction in my tone, recognizing there was truth in what I said. The sentiment had been building inside of me, and it felt good to put the thoughts into words.
Luca smiled softly at me before his lips fell. “How did your brother die?”
In a way, I appreciated that he had asked rather than proffering the token condolences that are customary. He didn’t mince words or play games; he came right out and asked what he wanted to know.
“My dad took my brother and sister to a movie one night. On the way back home, they were mugged, and my brother was killed. He was eleven.” It had been almost seventeen years since I’d lost my big brother, but it still hurt to talk about it.
“How old were you?”
“Seven. My older sister and I were at a school program dress rehearsal that night. We’d
been dancing and singing while my brother was murdered. After that, my family changed. We have our moments, but for the most part, it tore us apart.”
He nodded in understanding.
“How did you lose your mother?” I asked quietly.
“Drive-by shooting—wrong place at the wrong time. She had just stepped out of the house to run to the market and was gunned down on the sidewalk. I heard the shots and ran outside to find her in a puddle of her own blood. Some street thug with a target on his back had been walking by at the same time—a stray bullet hit her right in the heart.” His voice was so devoid of emotion, it gave me chills.
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen. Arianna was only fourteen.” His younger sister—she’d still been a young girl.
“Did you have to go into foster care?”
“Only for a couple months. The second I turned eighteen, I petitioned for custody of her.”
“I can’t imagine raising a teenage girl when you were only a kid yourself.” I thought back to what a nightmare my sisters and I had been at that age and grimaced.
He huffed out a laugh. “Nothing about it was easy, but I did my best. You deal with what life hands you, but that’s why I try to ensure in every way possible that life gives me a winning hand.”
When he put it that way, and knowing what I now knew about him, his actions sounded perfectly reasonable. How could I fault him for being domineering and assertive when he was taking charge of his life, trying to give himself the best chance to be happy? He had seen his mother gunned down and been forced to raise his young sister; and despite those odds, he’d picked himself up and made a success of himself. His perseverance and honor were more than just admirable; they were incredible.
“Does the stalking mean you consider me a winning hand?” I asked coyly.
“Baby, you’re a royal flush.” He gave me a rakish grin that was so delectable on him, I jumped onto his lap and pressed my lips to his.
There was no longer any doubt. I was in way over my head.
Forever Lies (The Five Families Book 1) Page 10