16
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the hotel room. I blinked slowly, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My head felt heavy, as though the nightmare from the night before had lingered just enough to weigh on my chest.
The warmth against my side was the first thing I noticed, followed by the steady rise and fall of Luca's breathing. My eyes shot open.
I was curled up against him, my head resting on his hard chest, his massive arm still draped around me protectively.
Heat rushed to my face as I quickly shifted away, careful not to wake him. My movements were clumsy, and I almost stumbled out of bed in my haste. What had I done? I didn't even remember falling asleep like that. Had he held me the entire night?
The thought made my heart race, confusion and something deeper—something I didn't want to name—swirling inside me.
No one's ever held me like that before. At least no one before my mother lost her sanity.
I grabbed my toiletries bag and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The cool water against my face helped calm me, but my reflection in the mirror betrayed my inner turmoil.
How had my life turned into this? Sharing a bed with my boss, fighting nightmares I hadn't had in years, and waking up to find comfort in his arms. It felt surreal.
But even as I tried to focus on the present, memories from my past crept in, unwelcome and suffocating.
I had been sent to live with my distant uncle who was a cousin of my dad when I was fifteen.
My parents thought it would be a better life for me, my father relieved to have a burden shifted and my mother too deep in her own sorrows to take care of me, and especially since they were struggling to make ends meet.
But my uncle had never been warm or welcoming.
He treated me like a burden, a shadow in his otherwise pristine life.
His son, Sam, was five years older than me and everything he adored—handsome, charming, and manipulative.
At first, I thought Sam's attention was kindness. He'd help me with my schoolwork, show me around the estate, and even bring me small gifts. But his kindness always came with strings attached.
The way he'd look at me when no one else was around made my skin crawl. His hands would linger too long, his voice would drop into a low murmur that felt wrong, and his smile... it wasn't kind.
One night, I'd made the mistake of staying up late to finish some homework. Sam found me in the study, and the way he loomed over me, his shadow falling across the desk, made my stomach twist.
"Why are you always so shy, Lenora?" he'd said, leaning in too close. "You're a pretty little thing. You should smile more."
I didn't answer, frozen in my seat as he reached out to touch my hair.
The memories blurred after that, but the feeling of powerlessness remained vivid. His advances never stopped, no matter how much I tried to avoid him. And when I finally gathered the courage to tell my uncle, he dismissed it entirely.
"Sam wouldn't do something like that," he'd said with a wave of his hand. "Stop being so dramatic."
I learned to keep my head down after that, to endure until I could leave. But the experience left scars, shaping the way I interacted with the world. I hated confrontation, feared raising my voice, feared men, and always felt the need to please others—an instinct to avoid punishment.
I shook myself from the memory, trying to focus on the present. I didn't have time to dwell on the past, not when Luca would be expecting me to be ready and flawless.
A knock at the bathroom door startled me, pulling me back to the present.
"Lenora, we need to leave in thirty minutes," Luca's voice called, sharp and commanding.
"I'll be ready," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
I finished getting ready quickly, slipping into a grey blouse and a pencil skirt, keeping my appearance polished. Luca didn't say much when I emerged, his piercing gaze briefly scanning me before he nodded in approval.
The car ride to the hotel where the meeting was to be held was quiet, but the air between us felt charged. I could feel his eyes on me occasionally, and every glance made my pulse quicken.
The meeting room was luxurious yet understated, one of the most elite spot in all of Milan, designed to exude elegance and professionalism. The Dubai clients, Mr. and Mrs. Farooq, were already seated when we arrived.
Mr. Farooq was a tall, commanding figure with a neatly trimmed beard and a traditional kandura, his white attire immaculate. His posture was relaxed but confident, and his warm smile immediately put me at ease.
Beside him, his wife, Samira, was the epitome of grace. She wore a stunning emerald-green abaya with intricate gold embroidery paired with a hijab of lighter shade, and her soft brown eyes sparkled with kindness.
"You must be Mr. Maroni," Mr. Farooq said, standing to greet Luca with a firm handshake. "It's an honor to meet you in person."
"The honor is mine," Luca replied smoothly, his tone polite but unwavering.
Samira turned to me, her smile warm. "And you must be Lenora," she said, reaching out to shake my hand. "Luca has spoken highly of you."
Oh did he?
I blinked in surprise, glancing at Luca. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he looked at me.
"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs.Farooq," I said, my voice soft but steady.
"Samira, please," she corrected, her tone gentle. "I can tell you're a hard worker. It's always wonderful to see young women succeeding in business," her eyes curiously taking in my features.
Her words made my cheeks warm, and I ducked my head slightly, murmuring a quiet thank you.
The meeting began shortly after, with discussions about potential partnerships and expanding into international markets. Luca was, as always, ruthless and precise. He spoke with authority, dismantling objections with ease and presenting solutions that left no room for doubt.
But even as he commanded the room, his gaze would occasionally flick to me, a silent reminder that he saw everything.
He handled questions with precision, dismantling objections with logic and charm. Watching him work was like watching a sculptor—every move deliberate, every word calculated.
But even as I focused on taking notes, I could feel his attention drifting toward me occasionally, his gaze heavy and possessive.
Dear lord what's happening.
At one point, Samira leaned over to whisper, "He's very protective of you, isn't he?"
I glanced at her, startled. "Oh, I—uh—he's just a v..very thorough boss."
She smiled knowingly but didn't press further.
The meeting concluded smoothly, and the Farooqs were pleased with the outcome. As they left, Samira turned back to me.
"It was lovely meeting you, Lenora. I hope you know how fortunate you are to have someone like Luca looking out for you."
I nodded, unsure how to respond, and watched them leave.
When the door closed, I turned to Luca , expecting to discuss the follow-up tasks. Instead, I was met with his intense gaze, his jaw tight and his eyes darker than usual.
"Come with me," he said, his voice low and commanding.
"You did well," he said, his tone neutral but firm.
"Thank you," I replied, unsure how to respond to his rare praise.
He moved closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space.
"But you need to stop being so shy," he continued, his voice low as he leaned in. "They were kind to you, but not everyone will be."
"I—I'm trying," I stammered, my pulse quickening.
He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Trying isn't enough, stellina."
God I didn't even know what that meant but him calling me that made the butterflies in my stomach squirm.
He stepped closer, and I found myself backed against his desk. The air between us was charged, and I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"You want to know what I thought during that meeting?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "W..what?"
"That you looked too sweet for your own good," he said, his breath warm against my ear. "Too innocent. It's distracting, Lenora."
I felt my cheeks flush, my hands gripping the edge of the desk for support.
"And when Samira complimented you," he continued, his tone dark and teasing, "I wanted to tell her you're mine to praise. Mine to protect."
Jesus this man.
My breath hitched, and I looked up at him, wide-eyed and unsure.
"Luca, I—"
"Shh," he interrupted, placing a finger under my chin to tilt my face up. "You don't need to say anything. Just remember—no one touches what's mine."
So I'm his?
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something else I didn't dare name.