Then we’re outside in the cool night air, and I can finally breathe.
Luca’s driver pulls the car around—a black sedan with tinted windows. Luca opens the back door and practically lifts me inside, following immediately after and pulling the door shut with a decisive click.
“Drive,” he orders, and the car begins moving.
The privacy screen between the front and back seats is already raised. Streetlights flash past the tinted windows as we pull away from the Romano estate, and I should feel relief at escaping, but all I can feel is the trembling that’s taken over my entire body.
The silence in the car is heavy, oppressive. I can feel Luca’s anger radiating off him in waves, but I’m not sure if it’s directed at Rico or at me or both.
“I told you not to wander off alone.” His voice is tight, controlled in a way that’s somehow more frightening than his fury at Rico. “I specifically said to stay visible, to stay where people could see you. And what did you do?”
Is he seriously blaming me? “I was just looking for somewhere quiet?—”
“You were being stupid.” He turns to look at me. In the dim light filtering through the tinted windows, his expression is hard. “You know what kind of world this is. You know the dangers. And you still thought it was smart to go wandering through Salvatore Romano’s mansion alone?”
Shame and anger war in my chest. He’s actually blamingme. “I didn’t think?—”
“No, you didn’t think. That’s the problem.” His hand rakes through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn’t come looking for you? Rico Romano isn’t just some entitled asshole. He’s dangerous, Giuliana. He has a reputation for taking what he wants and his father cleaning up the mess afterward.”
I’m so sick of being treated like I’m a damn stupid girl. “I know that now?—”
“You should have known it before.” His eyes flash. “I’ve spentweekstrying to keep you safe, establishing boundaries, making it clear to everyone in our world that you’re off-limits. And you nearly undid all that by giving Rico an opportunity to corner you alone.”
The unfairness of the accusation makes my anger spike. “So this is my fault?I’mto blame for him putting his hands on me?”
Luca scowls. “That’s not what I said?—”
No, he’s not going to try and turn this around. “It’s exactly what you said!” My voice rises despite my best efforts to stay calm. “You’re blaming me for his behavior, like I somehow invited it by existing in the wrong hallway at the wrong time!”
A muscle in Luca’s jaw jumps. “I’m saying you made yourself vulnerable when I explicitly warned you not to. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Tears of frustration burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “Because what I’m hearing is that you’re moreangry at me for being in danger than you are at Rico for being the danger.”
He opens his mouth then closes it again, conflict flashing across his features. For a moment, I think he might apologize, might acknowledge that his anger is misdirected.
Instead, he turns away, staring out the tinted window. “We’ll discuss this later. When you’re calmer.”
My jaw nearly drops. Theaudacityof this man to treat me like I’m some hysterical female from the nineteenth century. “I’m perfectly calm?—!”
“No, you’re not. You’re shaking, you’re emotional, and you’re not thinking clearly.” His voice is flat and dismissive, and I want to scream. “We’ll talk about appropriate consequences for disobeying my direct instructions once we’re home.”
Consequences. The word settles in my stomach like lead.
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence. I press myself against the far door, creating as much distance as I can in the confined space, and try to process everything that happened tonight.
Salvatore Romano’s voice echoing Marco’s death sentence. Rico’s hands on me, his assumptions about my availability. Luca’s fury followed immediately by blame.
And underneath it all, the terrible knowledge that keeps growing heavier: I know who really killed Marco. The proof is buried in my phone, and every day I don’t tell Luca is another day I’m complicit in his misdirected revenge.
But telling him could mean my death. Could mean becoming too valuable or too dangerous to keep alive. Could mean?—
Luca’s hand shoots out, gripping my thigh hard enough to make me gasp. “Come here.”
I whip my head around, startled. “What?—”
“I said come here.” His voice is rough and dangerous in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly despite everything. “Now, Giuliana.”
I should refuse. I need to maintain my anger and distance. But something in his tone—command mixed with barely restrained need—makes me obey without thinking.
