“Like I was saying about the ad spots, we’re already in contact with?—”
“I’m not that kind of man, you know. I don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”
I let out an exasperated sigh, slumping against the chair back. My pen taps against the table, sharp, impatient. “Luca… what do you want from me? Do you actually care about the campaign, or was that just an excuse to get me in here?”
His jaw flexes. He looks away, through the glass wall at his staff buzzing below, fingers drumming once against the desk before he hits the button. The glass fogs over instantly, blurring the entire floor into nothing.
Oh, hell no.
“I wanted to apologize. Officially.” His posture shifts forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. His eyes—softer now—find mine, earnest.
“Apologize? For what? For treating me like some random hookup? For leaving me there like?—”
“Yes. For that.” His voice catches, almost too quiet.
I shoot to my feet, palms flat on the table for balance. I’m done. “I’m not playing this game, Luca.”
I make it to the door, fingers grazing the handle—but his voice stops me, low and urgent. “Let me make it up to you.”
I turn, arms folding across my chest like armor, chin tilted high. “Are you seriously trying to sleep with me again as an apology?”
“No. No!” He lifts both hands, palms out like he’s under arrest, the corner of his mouth twitching at the absurdity. “Icome in peace. Let me take you to dinner. Just dinner. Not a date. Just… two old friends.”
Friends. The word scrapes raw. We’ve never been friends. We were neverjustanything.
“Luca…” My arms drop, hands twisting together as I fumble for an excuse, a line, anything to hold him at bay.
“There’s no hidden agenda.” His voice softens. One hand presses against his chest, the other gesturing toward me as if reaching across the distance. That smile flickers—the one I haven’t seen in years. The one that once made me feel like the only girl in the world.
“Dinner. That’s it.” I step closer, stabbing a finger at him, my glare sharp enough to cut. “Nothing more.”
His smirk blooms, crooked, dangerous, tugging at the corner of his mouth like he can’t stop it. His eyes glitter with something unspoken. “I promise.”
One of the two bottles is completely empty.
I didn’t even check what it was; I just drank that milky liquid like it was water. Big mistake. It hit like jet fuel. Now we’re both laughing so hard we’re crying, all because Luca said “Desire” instead of “Descartes” while trying to sound all philosophical.
The cabin is warm around us, fire snapping in the stone hearth, shadows dancing across the pine walls. Empty glasses clutter the nightstand, and the mountain air seeps faintly through the cracked window, cool against my flushed skin.
We’re sitting on the floor, backs against the bed we never touched, the quilt sliding down one side, our shoulders brushing every time the laughter takes over again.
“When did it get so dark?” he asks, glancing at the big window that showed mountains just a couple of hours ago.
“No idea, I’m gonna—” I try to stand, but my head does a full one eighty, and I collapse onto him. Luca catches me easily, laughing like I just told the best joke of the night.
“I think you’ve had enough, Em.”
“You think?” I snort, trying to stand again, but I end up plopping down on his lap instead.
And just like that, the laughter dies. But not our breathing.
Luca’s whole vibe shifts. His eyes darken, intense and focused, like something raw and instinctive has been awakened just by touching me. “What?” he asks, his gaze locked on my mouth like it owes him something.
I trail my finger down his cheek. “Sometimes… It’s like there’s an animal instinct in you,” I whisper, lightheaded and bold.
“I like to think it’s animal love, not instinct.” His voice is soft.
“Animal love, huh? I like that.” I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. “So, I’m the lamb, and you’re the lion?”
