His mind was made.
His words were the law in his world.
He turned and walked out without another glance at who he deemed to be his. La’Nova stood rooted in place, heart racing, her fingertips still held the warmth from his skin. It all felt so consuming; his presence, touch, and words moved her. She reflected on what it felt like looking into his dark eyes. La’Nova’s conclusion was like looking into a mirror of herself but as a warrior. She was unaware of how her presence quieted Luca’s demons that constantly roamed inside of him freely.
Chapter 4
Between blood… January 8th, 2026
Luca’s Maybach waited inside his living room like a living thing. Glass surrounded it on all sides; the car elevator was seamlessly built into the penthouse floor. He eyed the polished steel rails that gleamed beneath the tires. He stood a few feet away, clicked a button on his sleek remote and watched as the platform came alive.
His entire living room shifted like something a person would only see in a movie. The engineering was obscene; luxury provided from his father that was taken to a level meant to isolate his power from the rest of the world. It was a silent reminder of how Dontrell thought about him even while behind bars. A reminder of his made man status.
He didn’t need his mother to provide anything for him. Luca provided it for himself. She didn’t need to hold his hand and guide him to his next move. He had everything lined up in his head and moved with intention and actions. It hadn’t been a full week of him having freedom, and Luca already had a full team ready to put in work.
He rejuvenated himself, thanks to laying eyes on La’Nova. She provided the proper medicine without knowing that she lit a fuse inside of him. He stepped into the car before the doors fully closed. The car recognized his presence instantly. The interior lights softened to a low amber glow.
Luca looked like money now. He felt like the king he knew he was without having to be told. Today, he rocked a three-piece tailored suit. The black vest laid flat against his chest, the jacket sculpted to his shoulders. His black shirt was lint free, and his collar was crisp with cuffs fastened by onyx links that shined brightly.
The dreads that shadowed his face had been cut clean into a low Caesar fade with waves that rolled smoothly in spirals across his scalp.
The elevator began to descend. Through the glass, his penthouse rose upward. Layer by layer he watched floors disappear as he reached into his ashtray to light up his Cuban cigar stuffed with weed. Once the platform reached street level, the front wall slid open smoothly.
Sunlight flooded inside of his car, then sudden realization hit him hard. It was the simple realization that it was his first time waking up and not being in a jail cell. His eyes narrowed from the bright natural light of the sun as he rolled forward to merge into traffic.
The penthouse suite was a secret gift that his father gifted to him on his thirtieth birthday. The keys to it was inside of his bank vault along with other valuable items that secured his fortune for the future. He smoothly accelerated, switching lanes through downtown L.A traffic. His front seat damn near touched the back as J Cole’s soulful voice rapped through the speakers.
In his mind, La’Nova’s face appeared. Three days since he laid eyes on her. He hadn’t seen her, but he hadn’t lost her either. His new security detail kept eyes on her around the clock like the silent and loyal blooded men he expected them to be. The reports came in clean to him by nightfall.
She had no meetings outside of House of Angels, no deviations or trouble. La’Nova started her camper in the morning, and moved it by nightfall miles away from the building to rest peacefully in. She only did something different the second day, and that was walk to a nearby grocery store. She took the shopping cart, parked it outside of her camper then unloaded several groceries.
This morning, Luca was informed that she returned the same shopping cart then walked three miles back to her camper. Kentrell hadn’t been back to her camper. That fact settled deep in his chest, heavier than it should have. He didn’t plan on asking what the relations between the two were because he believed that time would soon reveal that as well.
He stared out the window as buildings blurred past him. The memory of her scar rose uninvited to the forefront of his brain. The way she didn’t pull away was like she needed him to acknowledge it. His heart palpitated just thinking about the way her fingers had traced his throat without fear or hesitation.
La’Nova caused a strong want to creep inside of him. A need to feel her bold presence again. He wanted to sit inside of her camper, hear her life story then tell her how easy her life would be if she trusted him enough to follow his lead. He was raised and trained to be a real man. He noticed every small intricate part of La’Nova, he studied what was considered imperfections.
The bags that matched his underneath her eyes revealed how she had plenty of sleepless nights. The way her hands shook, even when she tried to hide them, revealed to him the trauma from her past that still had her spirit disturbed. Luca was an observer. Silence mixed with his own self-conscious thoughts and he always allowed himself to think things all the way through.
There was no doubt in his mind that La’Nova belonged to him. He didn’t care how far-fetched it seemed or what it sounded like to others. He remembered as a boy asking his father why he referred to his mother as‘home’.He could still feel the weight of his father’s curious stare and how his words impacted him back then.
“When God gives you a soul mate, you don’t feel excitement first. You feel recognition. Like your spirit remembers something your mind can’t explain. It’s terrifying, and you know ya daddy don’t fear shit. Laying eyes on Lucille for the first time made me an honest man without asking.”
At the time, those words confused him, now it felt like deja vu. Because he felt it. The hunger and the unsettling stillness. He felt an ache that wasn’t pain, but depth. It felt like he was being rearranged and consumed all in the same breath. It was one of the reasons why he couldn’t sort the feeling that La’Nova gave him. Logic failed him. It was like his body knew before his mind could label it.
He discovered his desire with Sanarah before love came. With La’Nova, it was recognition. That alone scared him. Nothing made Luca turn and run the other way just because the feeling stumbled him. If anything, it made his pending pursuit justified because he definitely had strong plans to make La’Nova his.
With his father’s blood still calling him, louder than the recognition that he experienced with this new strange woman, Luca told himself to focus and go after her when the time was right.
Still, she kept popping up to the forefront of his brain as he pulled up to the gates of the Bonetti estate.
Luca’s sleek Maybach rolled up the long private driveway. His tires glided over smooth stone; he passed manicured hedges and century old oak trees that his father loved. The house came into full view the closer he got. The Bonetti estate was massive, cream-colored stone with tall arched windows. There was a balcony on the second floor, and on the third floor a smaller balcony attached to his father’s study.
He stopped his Maybach at the base of the porch then stepped out into the sunlight. It was warm, bright with a little bit of wind that would chill if it picked up. California’s weather was the trickiest. In different parts it rained, remained hot, but in the L.A area, the weather to out-of-towners was perfect. It smelled like cut grass and fresh crisp air.
Luca inhaled it all as his eyes went to the long stretched out porch. Instantly, he sighed, happy to see his grandfather sitting in a wide back chair. At eighty-six years old, his posture was straight. His gold cane leaned carefully against his seat like it was a symbol instead of support. Di Lucas Sr. was well in shape. His hair was silver and thin, and since he refused to go bald, he brushed all of his hair forward to cover any bald spots.
His dark brown skin was smooth, complemented with wrinkles that sort of made his face sag. His navy-blue suit jacket was open, white shirt crisp and clean. A house server approachedhim humbly, placing a crystal glass of cognac with no ice into his waiting hand.
