He fucks me hard, each thrust deep and deliberate, and I watch it all in the mirror. I see the way his face contorts with pleasure, the way his muscles flex with each movement. "Say my name," he demands, his voice strained. "Say it so I know you're thinking about me and no one else."
"Luca." It comes out as a gasp. "Luca, please?—"
"Please what?"
"Please don't stop. Please—God, Luca, I need?—"
"I know what you need." His hand moves between my legs, finding my clit and circling it with exactly the right pressure. "I know exactly what you need. And I'm the only one who's going to give it to you. Do you understand? The only one."
"Yes. Yes, only you?—"
The orgasm hits me like a wave, crashing over me with an intensity that makes my knees buckle. Luca holds me up, his arm around my waist, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. And I see him come undone, watch the moment when control slips, and he's just a man desperate for the woman in his arms.
Afterward, we collapse onto the bed, both of us breathing hard. Luca pulls me against his chest, his hand stroking my hair with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the intensity of what just happened. "I meant what I said," he murmurs against my temple. "You're mine now. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you."
I should tell him the truth. I should explain that there's never been anyone else, that I've been his since long before he knew I existed. Should confess that Valentina is just a mask I wear so I can be close to him. But I don't. The truth would ruin everything. It would take this fragile, perfect thing we've built and shatter it into pieces.
So I just nod against his chest and whisper, "Only you."
The next time, we're in the same room with the mirrors, and Luca is taking me from behind again, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. But this time, he pulls me up so my back is against his chest, so we're both upright, and I can see our reflection clearly. "Look at us," he says, his voice rough with exertion. "Look at how perfect we are together."
I look. I can see the way our bodies move in sync, the way his hands look against my skin, the way my head falls back against his shoulder in complete surrender. I can see the intensity in his eyes as he watches me in the mirror, like he's memorizing every detail. He’s obsessive, almost violent in his need, and I understand it, because I feel the same way. Every time I’m here, I feel more frantic, like I’m chasing something that’s slowly slipping out of my fingers.
"I'm never letting you go," he growls, thrusting up and into me again, hard. "Do you hear me, Valentina? I'm never letting you go."
I feel the words down to my bones. He means them. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. This isn't just sex anymore. Isn't just a casual arrangement between two people seeking escape. This is something else. Something deeper and more dangerous.
And he doesn't even know who I really am. I come as he thrusts into me again, my mind melting around the torrent of thoughts. He doesn't know that Valentina is Giulia. Doesn't know that the woman he's claiming so possessively is the same woman he watches at family dinners, the same woman he's supposed to be protecting, the same woman who's being forced to marry someone else.
He's in love with a ghost. A version of me that only exists within these walls. And I'm completely, utterly consumed by him.
Not just in love—though I am that, desperately and hopelessly. But consumed. He's become the air I breathe, the blood in my veins, the only thing that makes me feel real and alive and whole. The thought terrifies me.
What happens if he finds out the truth? If he realizes that I've been lying to him this entire time, that every moment we've shared has been built on deception?
He'll hate me. He’ll feel betrayed, used, and manipulated.
The fear is so intense it makes me nauseous. It makes me want to pull away, to run, to end this before it destroys us both. I should. It will have to end eventually… why not now? Why not stop it before something happens that shatters what we had and turns it into something miserable instead of the pinnacle of what we’ll ever have together?
But I can't. I need him too much. I'm addicted to him. And there's no way out that doesn't end in devastation.
—
The days blurtogether after that. I go through the motions of wedding planning. Alessandro is always there, always attentive, always so fucking oblivious to the fact that I'm dying inside. My father watches with satisfaction, pleased that I'm playing my role so well. Romeo watches with concern, and Luca watches with something I can't quite identify. Something that looks like pain. Like he constantly wants to say something but doesn’t. And it sets me on edge, wondering if he suspects, if he’s figured it out. The lies and deception are wearing on me, and I feel worn paper-thin.
I catch him looking at me sometimes when he thinks I'm not paying attention. There's something in his expression thatmakes my chest ache—longing, maybe, or regret. Like he's mourning something he can never have.
If only he knew. If only I could tell him. But I can't. Because telling him means losing him, and I'm not strong enough for that.
And then, a week later, I realize my period is late.
At first, I don't think much of it. Stress can do that, mess with your cycle, make your body do strange things, and God knows I'm stressed. The wedding has been moved up without consulting me or thinking about what I might want, and the pressure is constant and suffocating. I'm barely sleeping, barely eating, running on adrenaline and desperation and the stolen hours I spend with Luca. So when my period doesn't come, I tell myself it's just stress. I tell myself it doesn't mean anything.
But then it’s a week later, and another. I can't ignore it anymore. And the next morning, as I’m getting dressed to go out, I notice that my breasts are tender and my jeans feel tighter around my waist. I think back, and realize I've been nauseous in the mornings, though I've been attributing it to anxiety.
Oh God. Oh God, no.
The room spins, and I have to sit down on my bed before my legs give out.
