His proximity was overwhelming—his scent, his heat, the intensity that made my heart race despite my anger.
"Then tell me everything," I demanded. "Now."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a sound between curse and surrender, he stepped back.
"Fine. Yes, your father and I had an arrangement planned before my release. But not the way you think." He moved to the bar, pouring a drink. "Your father approached me through intermediaries. The Calabrese family was working with your uncle to stage a coup. Don Moretti couldn't move openly without triggering war, so he offered an alliance through marriage." Luca turned to face me. "I refused initially."
"You refused?"
"I had no interest in a mafia princess. I had my own plans." His expression darkened. "What changed was learning your uncle and Ricci were targeting you specifically. Planning to force you into marriage with Ricci's nephew—a man who'd destroyed women, left bodies behind."
A chill ran through me.
"So this was strategy," I said bitterly. "Opportunity."
"And saving you from a fate worse than this arrangement." He met my gaze. "Your father told me you were stubborn. So we created a scenario where I would appear to be the lesser evil. Where you would choose me."
"You never gave me a choice. You manufactured one."
"And if I hadn't? You'd be dead, or the property of a sadist."
We were both breathing hard, the space between us charged with rage and something dangerous.
"You're not in a cage, Sienna. It was just made to look that way."
"Then why do you make decisions about my life without consulting me?"
He closed the distance, his hands framing my face with unexpected gentleness.
"Because the thought of losing you tears me apart," he growled. "Because I don't know how to want someone this much. It makes me vulnerable. Weak. In prison, I survived by feeling nothing. By making myself stone." His voice dropped. "You make me feel everything. And it terrifies me."
"It makes you human," I whispered.
Something fractured in his expression. Then he surrendered.
His mouth crashed into mine, a collision of hunger and possession. The wall bit into my back as he pressed me against it, his body hard and relentless.
"You want to show me?" he growled. "Then show me how much you need me."
My fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. I fumbled with his shirt buttons, tearing some, revealing the sculpted chest beneath. I traced his abs, feeling the power barely contained.
He hissed as I raked my nails down his back. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
"You're mine, Sienna," he snarled. "Say it."
"Yours," I whispered.
He carried me to the couch, laying me down. I felt him press against my entrance, and I rocked my hips.
"Now, Luca," I pleaded. "Please."
He thrust into me, slow at first, then faster, harder. The sensation overwhelmed me. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he moved with a punishing rhythm.
"You feel so good," he groaned. His words sent heat through me. He reached between us, fingers finding my clit, rubbing in time with his strokes.
The pleasure built, coiling tighter.
"Together," I whispered. "I want to come with you."
