“To a man who treats you like property.” Rico leans closer, his breath hot against my ear, and I can definitely smell alcohol now—whiskey, maybe, mixed with that horrible cologne. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. Like you’re something he owns rather than someone he loves. That’s Luca’s way. Possessive, controlling, and cold under all that carefully curated charm.”
His hand drops from my hair to my arm, fingers wrapping around my bicep again with enough pressure to bruise. I try to pull away, but his grip tightens.
“Let go, you’re hurting me?—”
“But me?” He ignores my plea as his other hand comes up to trace my jawline. I have to fight not to flinch away. “I appreciatebeautiful things. I know how to make a woman feel valued, desired. Special.” His thumb brushes my lower lip, and revulsion makes my stomach lurch. “I could help you, you know. Help you disappear before Luca destroys you completely. Set you up somewhere nice, somewhere far away from all this.”
Panic claws at my throat. He’s not just making a pass. He’s suggesting I leave Luca for him, like I’m a commodity to be traded. “I appreciate the offer,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear racing through me, “but I’m not interested.”
“Not interested?” He laughs, the sound ugly and mocking. “Or not brave enough to admit what you really want? I see how uncomfortable you are at these gatherings, how out of place you look. You don’t belong in our world, sweetheart. You’re too soft, too innocent, too…” His hand slides from my arm to my waist, pulling me closer. “Too breakable.”
“Let go of me.” The words come out sharper than I intend, fear turning to anger.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” His grip tightens, and now both hands are on me with one at my waist, one sliding up my side in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I’m offering you a way out. A chance to escape before Luca?—”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
Luca’s voice cuts through Rico’s proposition, and even I’m terrified at its controlled fury. Rico jerks back as if he’s been burned, his cocky expression shifting to something that might actually be fear.
I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my entire life.
Luca closes the distance between us in three strides, his entire body radiating barely contained violence. He’s not tall enough to physically tower over Rico, but somehow he seems to fill the entire hallway, his presence overwhelming everything else.
“Luca! Hey, we were just talking,” Rico starts, but Luca cuts him off.
“Talking.” The word is flat, disbelieving. His eyes—those dark, cold eyes—are fixed on Rico with an intensity that makes even me want to back away. “Is that what you call cornering my fiancée in a hallway and putting your hands on her?”
Rico’s face pales, but he pastes on a smile. “It was innocent?—”
“There’s nothing fucking innocent about you.” Luca’s hand shoots out, fisting in Rico’s expensive shirt and slamming him back against the opposite wall hard enough that I hear the impact. A painting nearby rattles. “You think because your father hosts this gathering, you can touch what’s mine? You think I won’t break every bone in your fucking body right here in your father’s hallway?”
Rico’s eyes widen, real fear replacing the cocky amusement. “I didn’t mean—she seemed like she wanted—” he stammers.
“She seemed like she wanted you to get the fuck away from her.” Luca’s voice drops to something that makes me so glad I’m not on the receiving end of it. I’ve never seen him genuinely furious and I never want to again. “And if I ever see you near her again, if I ever hear that you’ve so much as looked at her, I will make you wish your father had left you as a stain on the sheets. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, I understand.” Rico’s voice comes out strangled.
Luca releases him with a shove that sends Rico stumbling. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I forget we’re guests here.”
Rico practically runs down the hallway, his shoes echoing on the marble floors. Then we’re alone—me pressed against the wall with my heart racing, Luca standing a few feet away with murder still written in every line of his body.
For several long seconds, neither of us move. I can hear my own ragged breathing and feel tremors running through my limbs as the adrenaline finally catches up with the fear.
“Are you hurt?” Luca’s voice is different now. It’s still rough, but the violence has shifted into something else. Not quite concern, but close.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
“Did he touch you anywhere else?” His jaw clenches as he waits for my answer.
“Just my arm. My waist. My hair.” The words come out small. “He was suggesting that he could help me escape, that you were going to destroy me anyway?—”
I can’t finish the sentence. The reality of what just happened crashes over me. Not just Rico’s threat, but the larger truth it exposed. I’m completely powerless here. Without Luca’s protection, I’d be prey.
“We’re leaving.” Luca orders in a tone that brokers no argument.
He doesn’t wait for my agreement before taking my arm, carefully, nothing like Rico’s bruising grip), and guiding me back through the mansion toward the entrance. We collect my coat from a staff member, and Luca makes brief, clipped apologies to Salvatore about an urgent business matter.
If Salvatore suspects what really happened with his son, his expression doesn’t show it. He just smiles that practiced smile and wishes us well.
