I blink. “But Donald?—”
“I’ll handle Donald.”
The second the word left his lips, he’s walking me out of the bathroom and across the restaurant. Heads turn. Murmurs ripple. I catch Donald’s stunned face near the bar.
“She’s done for the night,” Luca says simply. “She’s coming with me.”
Donald opens his mouth, closes it and nods.
He nods.
Why does he look scared?
Why would he be scared of a CEO, even one like Luca?
I don’t have time to ask. Luca leads me outside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like I haven’t just turned my life upside down.
There, gleaming under the streetlights, is a blood-red Ferrari.
He opens the door.
“Come with me,” he says.
I hesitate.
My feet stay planted, heart thudding in my chest like a warning bell. This is insane. I barely know him. Just hours ago, I was worried about tips and wiping down tables, and now I'm standing here in front of a man who could change everything.
But the thought of going back inside feels... unbearable. Like stepping back into a world that never saw me, never protected me. A world that would chew me up if he let go of my hand.
He’s still holding the door open. Waiting. Not demanding.
I look up at him. There’s no pressure in his eyes, just certainty. Like he already decided for both of us.
And maybe, deep down, I want him to.
So I take a shaky breath, climb into his car, and let him take me away into the night.
6
LUCA
She’s in my car.
My little angel, curled up in the passenger seat of my Ferrari, legs drawn in slightly like she’s afraid of scuffing the interior. Like she doesn’t know she could set fire to the leather and I’d still thank her for sitting here.
She’s quiet. Eyes wide, drinking in everything, the slick, sculpted dashboard, the glow of the digital panel, the buttery-smooth leather seats. Every time I shift gears, I can feel her gaze flick to the subtle motion of my hand, fascinated. Awestruck.
“This is insane,” she murmurs at one point, almost to herself. “I’ve never evenseena car like this up close. It smells like—like heaven.”
That’s because you’re in it.
I keep that to myself and ease onto the freeway.
She flushes and quickly looks out the window, but her fingers keep brushing the stitching like she can’t believe it’s real.
She’s here.With me.After stalking her for months, it almost doesn’t feel real. Did she know, in that bathroom, what I was? When she begged me to touch her, did she know? That I’vefollowed her home every night since I met her? That I’ve been outside her apartment while she slept?
Did she know what she does to me?
