“That’s not what I asked,” she insisted. A flicker of something crossed his face—annoyance, maybe. Or respect—or both.
“You’re asking questions that will get you killed,” he said.
“Then I guess I’ll fit right in,” she shot back. Silence stretched between them. A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Luca’s handsome face.
“Yeah,” Luca murmured. “You just might fit into my world after all.”
Her pulse stuttered—damn him. “I’m not yours,” she said, quieter this time—but no less firm.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “Not yet.” The words were soft, but certain, and far too confident.
Isabella’s breath caught. “Don’t get comfortable with that idea,” she warned.
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t get comfortable,” he said, “ever.” She believed that, because men like him didn’t relax. They controlled, they owned, and they destroyed. Andright now? He was doing all three to her sense of control without even touching her.
“I need answers,” she said finally. “About my father.”
His jaw tightened again. “You’ll get them.”
“When?” she asked.
“When I decide you’re ready to hear them,” Luca growled.
Anger flared inside of her, hot and fast. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“It is now,” Luca insisted.
Her hands clenched at her sides. “I’m not playing your games, Luca.”
“Good,” he said. “Because this isn’t a game. From this moment on, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said.
“I’m not one of your men to order around,” she spat.
“No,” he said calmly. “You’re something far more important.”
Her stomach twisted. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. His arrogance and certainty should have infuriated her, and it did. But beneath that, there was something else. Because the look in his eyes wasn’t just control, it was protection. And that was somehow more dangerous than anything else about him.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“I know,” he replied, taking another step closer. He was close enough that she could feel his heat now. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you,” he breathed. Her breath hitched, and for the first time since she walked into his world, Isabella realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit—this wasn’t just about her father anymore. This wasn’t just about answers. This—whatever this was between them—was already pulling her into his world, and she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. And worse—she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Luca
Luca didn’t move until the car disappeared at the end of the block. Not because he wasn’t capable, but because he was thinking. He was always thinking. The street noise crept back in slowly—voices, traffic, the distant pulse of the city—but none of it touched him. His focus stayed locked on the space where that car had been, his jaw tight, his mind already pulling the situation apart piece by piece. They’d moved too fast and were too bold, which meant one thing. They weren’t afraid of him, and that alone was a problem.
Behind him, Isabella shifted slightly. He felt it more than heard it—felt her presence like a change in the air, like something unpredictable had stepped too far into his territory. He turned to find that she was still standing there, chin lifted, eyes sharp, like she hadn’t just come within seconds of being taken. Like she hadn’t just proven exactly why he wasn’t going to be able to take his eyes off her.
“You’re not going home alone,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed immediately. “We already had this conversation.”
“And I already gave you my answer,” he said.
