“I know,” he breathed.
Her gaze snapped to his. “You do?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly. It wasn’t exactly defeat, but more like acceptance.
“And my father?” she asked.
“He lives, for now,” Luca said. “We’re still trying to figure out if he’s involved in any of this,” he admitted.
“I want to see him,” she said. “I can talk to him and find out what he knows. I’ll be able to tell if he’s involved.”
“No,” he said, his word final.
Her eyes flashed again, and he saw it, the—the fire that he had heard about. “Stop saying that like it’s not even a conversation.”
“It’s not,” he admitted.
“I have a right to see my father,” she spat.
“No, right now, you have a target on your back,” he corrected. “And if you go anywhere near your father, you’ll only make it bigger.
“You don’t get to decide this,” Luca added. “Not right now.”
Her breath shook. “And when do I get to make my own decisions?”
Luca didn’t hesitate. “In time.”
“If this is protection, I’m not interested.” He stepped closer, and she let out the breath that she must have been holding.
“That’s too bad,” he breathed.
“And what happens when this is over?” she asked.
Luca held her gaze. “That depends.”
“On what?” she asked.
“On whether you’re still standing,” he said, bluntly, causing her to gasp. The truth of that settled heavily between them. He didn’t care, though, because in his world, nothing was guaranteed—not survival, not loyalty, and not even tomorrow.
She swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere.” He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself about that.
Luca’s mouth curved slightly. “Yeah,” he said, stepping back from her. It didn’t matter, though, not anymore, because distance didn’t change anything. Not after everything that had already been set in motion. “Good,” he added.
And this time, it didn’t sound like he was trying to control her. It sounded like certainty. Because whether she liked it or not, Isabella Romano was in his world now, and Luca Camorra wasn’t letting her walk out of it.
Isabella
She didn’t know what changed—not exactly. Nothing had happened. There was no new threat, no new revelation, and no sudden shift in the war circling them. And yet, everything felt different. Maybe it was the quiet that had filled the house over the past week, or maybe it was the way the house seemed to settle around them, like it had accepted her presence whether she had or not. Or maybe it was him.
Isabella stood in the kitchen, exhaling slowly as she pressed her palm against the cool marble, trying to ground herself. “You’re staring again.” Luca’s voice was almost a whisper, but still managed to startle her from her daydreams. Luca stood just a few steps away, but it felt like he was everywhere all at once. He seemed to be able to fill the space without taking up much of it. The air around her even seemed to be still.
“I’m not staring, I’m thinking,” she corrected.
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Luca asked.
Her lips pressed together. “No,” she breathed.
