His Ruthless Claim (Devils in Armani Suits #2)

31. Luca

31

LUCA

T he thrum of bass from The Vault's speakers vibrates through my bones as I scan the crowd. My fingers brush against cool metal - my mother's watch, a habit I can't shake when my control slips. Three weeks without Skye and the world's lost its edges, everything blurred and meaningless.

I turn to leave, refusing to subject myself to another night of searching faces in the crowd. That's when I see her.

The lights catch on her sleek black waves, amber eyes bright as she talks with her friends. Her hand lifts a glass to deep red lips, nails painted a shimmering gold that matches the flecks in her irises. The sight of her hits like a physical blow.

She's wearing one of her boutique pieces - a black dress that clings to curves I know by heart. My jaw clenches. And then her eyes meet mine.

The pull between us is so real, I can barely resist. I want to move closer to her. I want to pull her into me and make her see how sorry I am. But I can't.

I force myself to look away, remember Maria's words about giving Skye space, about how my need to control everything pushed her away. So, I turn to leave, needing to get out of here before I lose it.

"Luca."

Her voice cuts through the noise, straight to my core. My steps falter. I haven't heard her say my name in twenty-three days. The sound nearly brings me to my knees.

I turn slowly, fighting to maintain the mask of indifference that's served me so well. But it's harder now - she's seen beneath it, knows what lies behind the emptiness in my eyes.

"Skye." Her name tastes like salvation on my tongue.

She takes a step closer, close enough that I catch the scent of her perfume - vanilla and amber. "You're leaving?"

"Didn't want to intrude." The words scrape my throat raw.

Her eyes narrow, that sharp wit I've missed analyzing every micro-expression I can't quite hide. "Since when does Luca Mantione care about intruding?"

"I care about a lot of things lately." My voice comes out rougher than intended. The admission costs me, but her presence strips away pretense.

She steps closer, those amber eyes searching mine. "Like arranging attacks on my boutique?"

The accusation lands like a physical blow. I didn't realize she wanted to pour salt in my wounds, but if this is the only way I can have her, I'll take it. I don't deny it - we're past lies. "I needed you safe."

"You needed control." Her words cut deep, but there's less venom than before. "Do you know what scared me most? Not the attack. Not even finding out you orchestrated it. It was how easily you manipulated everything, like I was just another piece on your chess board."

My fingers twitch toward my watch, but I force them still. "You've never been just anything."

"I know." She takes another step, close enough I catch the flutter of her pulse at her throat. "That's what terrifies me. Three weeks without you and I feel like I'm drowning. I hate that I miss the way you'd appear at my boutique every evening, how you'd watch me like I might vanish if you blinked."

Her hand lifts to my face, fingertips tracing my jaw. The touch shatters what's left of my composure. "I'm still angry," she whispers. "But I can't keep pretending I don't need this. Need you."

My hands find her waist, drawing her closer. The familiar curves beneath black silk feel like coming home. "Tell me to let go."

"No." Her thumb brushes my lower lip. "I don't want easy. I want you - all of you, even the parts that terrify me."

The honesty in her voice undoes me. For the first time in twenty years, I feel something crack behind my ribs, raw and vital. I haven't checked my watch once since seeing her tonight. The compulsion fades beneath the weight of her touch, like she's rewriting decades of careful control with each breath between us.

"I need you to understand something." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. The admission costs me, but the price of losing her again would be higher. "These weeks without you... I couldn't focus. Couldn't think. Everything felt wrong."

Skye's fingers trail down my neck, settling against my pulse. "The great Luca Mantione, thrown off his game?" That sharp wit I've missed curves her lips. "Should I be flattered?"

"You should be terrified." I catch her wrist, thumb pressing against her racing heartbeat. "I orchestrated that attack because the thought of losing you made me irrational. But Maria..." I release a breath. "She made me see what I couldn't. Love isn't about possession or control."

"Maria?" Skye's eyebrow arches. "I should've guessed."

"She knew my mother. Knew how my father's idea of love destroyed everything good." The words taste like ash, but Skye deserves truth. "I thought protecting you meant controlling every variable. But that's not love - it's fear dressed up as devotion."

Her free hand slides beneath my jacket, palm flat against my heart. "And what is love, according to the reformed Luca Mantione?"

"This." I lean in, lips brushing her ear. "Standing here, letting you see every broken piece without trying to manipulate the outcome. Knowing you could walk away, but trusting you to stay."

"Keep talking." Her breath hitches. "I like this version of you."

"I love you." The words fall like bullets between us - precise, deadly, unavoidable. "Not because I want to own you. Not because I need to control you. Because you make me feel something besides emptiness, and I'm finally strong enough to admit that terrifies me."

Her fingers curl into my shirt. "Say it again."

"I love you, Skye." This time the words come easier, like surrender doesn't have to mean defeat. "Every sharp word, every challenge, every moment you refuse to let me hide behind cold logic."

Her words ghost across my lips, three syllables that shatter what's left of my control. "I love you, too."

I drink them in, memorizing the cadence, storing away every detail of this moment. The way her amber eyes shine in the low light, how her fingers tremble against my chest, the slight catch in her breath.

"I see you trying," she whispers, nails scraping lightly through my hair. "How hard you're fighting against everything you've been taught. The way you catch yourself reaching for that watch when you're anxious now."

My hands slide up her back, pressing her closer until there's no space between us. The silk of her dress feels cool beneath my palms, but her skin burns through the fabric. "You make me want to be better. Different."

"Not different." She shakes her head, those black waves brushing my jaw. "Just more yourself. Less walls. Less calculation."

Her lips find mine and the world stops. The kiss tastes like her signature red wine and promises I never thought I'd make. My fingers thread through her hair, angling her head to deepen the connection. She matches my intensity, challenging as always, teeth grazing my lower lip in that way she knows drives me wild.

I growl against her mouth, backing her toward the darkened alcove near the bar. Her breath hitches as I cage her against the wall, one hand braced beside her head. "Careful. I'm sorely lacking in control when it comes to you."

"Maybe I want you to lose it." Her amber eyes flash with that defiance I crave. She rises on her toes, lips brushing my ear. "Take me home, Luca. Show me how much you've missed me."

The words ignite something primal in my chest. Three weeks without her in my bed, in my life, have left me raw and desperate. But I force myself to pause, to give her one last chance. "You're sure?"

She answers by pulling me down for another kiss, this one deeper, darker. When she breaks away, those perfect red lips curve into a knowing smile. "Always so controlled, even now. Take me home before I decide to test exactly how much restraint you have left."

I nearly carry her out of there.