Chapter 25 Luca
LUCA
"Luca, we need to talk," the door flies shut behind her and Belle whirls in like a tornado.
"Why the hell are you out of your room?" I stand so fast the chair skids. Fury climbs my spine, automatic. "Did I not—"
"Save it," she shakes her head, marching straight for my desk. "I brought you gold."
I snarl. "We're in lockdown, Belle. There are armed men everywhere with orders to shoot first."
"Shut up and listen to me."
"Excuse me?"
What part of my life's a fucking disaster movie does Belle not get? This little surprise visit isn't helping my plans.
"I said shut up." She's already at my computer. I follow the heat trail she leaves and watch her bend over my keyboard, hips brushing the desk, perfume turning my brain to dust.
"Belle—"
"You don't trust me," she cuts me off, clicking through folders. "But I trust you with everything. Now get over here."
That lands.
The Lord above knows I just need the woman to listen so I can keep her safe. But her hair's all wild, and she's got this reckless determination in her eye that tells me I shouldn't get in between Belle and her storm.
"Fine."
I move behind her, close enough to smell her shampoo, to feel the heat of her body. She's shaking slightly, but her eyes stay locked on the screen.
"What am I looking at?" I ask, leaning over her shoulder.
"Security logs from the night of the break-in." Her voice drops to a whisper. "From three hours before the attack."
Declan walks into my office where he shouldn't be when I'm not around. I feel the rage simmer.
"Keep watching," she orders.
I do. On screen, Declan moves to my bar with practiced ease, selecting the bottle of Macallan I drink every night after Sofia goes to bed. The vial he produces is small, clinical—the kind used for concentrated doses.
Poison. My own brother tried to murder me with my favorite scotch.
Rage floods my system like molten steel. "That motherfucking piece of shit."
"Yeah." Belle turns to face me. "Your brother's trying to fuck you over."
It's one thing to suspect Declan. It's another to see the proof in living color.
My brother wants me dead. And he would have succeeded if I hadn't been with Belle that night instead of drinking in my office like usual.
"I knew it," I hiss. "I had a gut feeling, but this is what I needed for cold, hard facts." I gesture at the screen where the evidence plays on loop.
"He's the one who orchestrated the attack, too, isn't he?" Belle asks, her eyes never leaving my face.
"I had a man confess to it, but his word against my brother's meant nothing. This—" I tap the screen, "—is everything. I've got a warrant to act now."
I stare at Belle, truly take her in. I've been starving for certainty, and she just served it hot. That's partnership. That's family. Yeah, I was mad at her for hiding the baby. But then again, she didn't have to do this.
Maybe she made a mistake. Haven't we all? But looking at her now, she isn't the woman I forced into marriage. She's becoming an equal. A partner.
So I better well damn treat her with the respect that title demands.
I lean in close and whisper, "Thanks for riding with me."
Belle presses herself between me and the desk. Her hands come up to cup my face.
"You could have been hurt," I growl, gripping her waist. "Sneaking around during lockdown—"
"I did what I did to save this family." Her eyes flash. "We can't keep living in fear."
I nod, pulling her closer.
Her lips part, her eyes darting between mine. "I hate that I—" she swallows "—that I fucked up."
She's close enough that her breath hits my mouth.
"I know." I tighten my arms around her waist and sit in the chair hitting the back of my legs, taking her with me. She lands in my lap like she's mine and joy hits me so hard it steals my breath.
This woman chose to help me. Chose to risk the storm to bring me the lightning.
She's part of me now. Part of this family. Part of the life I'm keeping and I'll do whatever it takes to have her here.
Her weight settles and, Jesus, I'm a man, not a saint. My cock twitches first—pressed under the curve of her ass, hot and heavy with ideas. She shifts and I bite down on a groan.
Her mouth hovers a breath from mine. "Don't make me say I'm sorry again," she whispers, lips grazing against mine, "or I'm gonna cry again."
"Don't cry." I thread my fingers into her hair. "Kiss me."
Sweet mother of God, she kisses hotter than sin. Her lips brush up against mine, letting me think she's gentle, before I feel her teeth.
She kisses like she's been to the edge today and came back hungry. Her mouth opens; mine takes. She tastes like heat and trouble. My hands find her shorts, fist around the fabric, and drag them down her thighs. She gasps into me, and I feel it everywhere I keep my control.
"God, I want you," she pants against my lips. "I know this is the worst timing—"
"Timing's never been our strong suit." I'm already sliding a hand between her legs. Her panties are soaked through. "Jesus, Belle. Look at you."
"What can I say?" She rocks against my hand. "You're not an easy man to remember myself around."
I slip a finger past the cotton, finding her slick and ready. She gasps, her head falling back as I slide one finger inside her, then another. Her inner walls clench around me, hot and tight.
"I could wreck you all day," I whisper, curling my fingers and feeling her thighs tremble.
"Forget all day, I'll settle for right now," she whimpers, grinding down on my hand.
That's all it takes. I pull away those fingers and slide my hands down her ass, standing up and taking her with me. She wraps her legs around my waist, pressed against my cock like a little tease.
With one sweep of my arm, I clear my desk—papers, pens, my laptop all crashing to the floor.
Then, I set her down on her feet.
"Bend over," I order, already unzipping my pants.
Her eyes go dark with lust. She turns, places her palms flat on the desk, and looks back at me over her shoulder. "Like this?"
She's wrecked and gorgeous, and I swear I see devotion in how she lays out for me.
"Exactly like that, darling," I hiss, pulling her shorts down all the way to take a look at that flimsy little black lace barely covering her ass. "You're beautiful, you know that?"
My hand comes down with a sharp smack against her ass. She gasps, arching into it. I rub the red mark I've left, soothing the sting before sliding her panties down her legs.
They pool at her ankles like a flag surrendering to a victor.
Either way, when I have her, I always feel like a winner.
"You're mine," I tell her, pressing my thumb against the slit to her pussy, feeling how ready she is. "You and that baby."
"Yes," she breathes. "All yours."
I free my cock, already hard as granite. The head brushes against her wet folds, and we both groan. I grip her hips with one hand, the other fisting in her hair, pulling her head back gently.
"Tell me you want this," I demand, teasing her entrance with the tip of my cock. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you, Luca," she moans, pushing back against me. "Please fuck me now before I scream."
I thrust into her in one long, deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She's tight—fuck, so tight—and scorching hot around me.
Her walls grip me like she never wants to let go.
"Oh God," she cries out, fingers trying to dig against the wood. "You make me so full."
I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in.
She feels like heaven—wet, tight, perfect. Each thrust pushes a little cry from her throat, a sound that goes straight to my cock.
"That's it," I growl, setting a punishing pace. "Take it all."
All I feel and hear is the quick, filthy rhythm that lives in the bones of men like me. My hand fists in her hair, the other braced at her hip. The desk creaks. The blinds rattle. The world funnels down to just Belle.
My hand tightens in her hair, pulling just enough to arch her back further. The new angle lets me hit deeper, and she sobs my name like a prayer.
"Luca, oh God, right there—"
"Fuck, Belle. You like that, yeah?" I drag her up just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth, then drive back in.
She claws at the far edge of the desk; I cover her hand with mine and hold. "Look at me," I order, and when her eyes find mine over her shoulder I push a fraction deeper, angle mean and perfect. Her mouth drops open in a cry.
"That's it," I coach, losing the rails and welcoming it. "Take me. Take all of me."
I can feel her tightening around me, getting close…
My free hand slides around to find her clit, circling in tune with my thrusts. She's so slick, so responsive, her body singing under my touch.
The sounds she makes should be illegal. The sounds I make are worse. I'm close; she's closer. My hand slides from her hair to her throat, just a cradle, just a claim, never pressure. She shivers and flies beneath my other hand, still on her clit.
"Oh my God, Luca!" she sob-cries into the room in a scream, her body going taut, then shattering. I muffle her up with my hand over her mouth—there are men outside, after all. She's a pulse around my cock, milking me, dragging me closer to the edge.
"Fuck," I hiss, driving into her harder now, chasing my own release. "You feel so fucking good."
The vise of her pulls me right after. I sink as deep as I can go and let go, groaning against her shoulder, devotion burning up every place anger lived. My vision blurs at the edges, pleasure crashing through me in waves. For a moment, there's nothing but Belle and me.
Reality seeps back in slowly. I ease my grip on her hair, smoothing it back from her face. My other hand strokes her hip, soothing where I know I've left marks. I pull out gently, watching as some of me trickles down her thigh.
Mine. She's mine. Marked inside and out.
Belle turns, still lying flat against the desk, her chest heaving. Her eyes are soft, her lips swollen from our kisses. I tuck myself back into my pants, fastening them as she pulls her panties and shorts back up her legs.
She pulls herself up and perches on the edge of the desk, hair wild, barely decent, cheeks flushed with the kind of color that makes a man want to start over.
The door opens without a knock.
Conor freezes in the doorway, his face stuck between oh God and of course.
"Spit it out."
"Boss, it's Declan." He keeps his eyes on me. "He's been leaking intel for months."
I roll my eyes, then jerk my chin toward Belle. "She beat you to it."