30. Mia
30
MIA
L ying in Luca’s arms, I can barely believe what just happened. The rush of heat, the wildness, the complete lack of restraint. We had sex on the couch. Anyone could have walked in—his men, anyone passing by—and seen us. The thought should horrify me, but instead, it only makes my heart beat faster, sending a thrill through me that I can’t quite shake.
I’m not mad. Far from it.
Luca’s face is buried in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin as he exhales deeply. I can feel the tension leaving his body with each breath, his strong arms wrapped around me as though he can’t bear to let me go. His hair is slightly damp with sweat, and I run my fingers through it, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers.
Seeing Luca like this—so distraught, so vulnerable over the idea of losing me—it fills me with a relief so deep I can barely put it into words.
For so long, I’ve worried that his desire for revenge would always hang between us, that he wasn’t truly with me but driven by some dark need to settle old scores. But the way he held me, the way he looked at me just now as we made love… I know he cares about me.
It’s not about revenge anymore. It’s about us .
We’re in love. I can feel it in every touch, every kiss, every breath we share. It’s like the world has shifted, and suddenly, the weight that’s been pressing down on my heart is gone, replaced by something softer, something infinitely more beautiful. Happiness. Maybe even real, true happiness.
My stomach growls, breaking the silence, and Luca lifts his head, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Did I wear you out that much?” he teases, his voice low and rough with satisfaction.
I blush, trying to hide my face against his shoulder, but he doesn’t let me. His fingers catch my chin, tilting my head up to meet his amused gaze. “Hungry already?”
“I’m not hungry for food,” I shoot back, my cheeks burning, but the truth escapes before I can stop it. “Well, not anymore.” The words come out in a rush, and I immediately regret how eager I sound.
Luca’s eyes darken with a wicked gleam, his smile turning positively devilish. “Oh? So you’ve already had your fill of me, have you?” His tone is teasing, playful, but there’s something else beneath it too—something possessive and deeply satisfied.
I can’t help but laugh. “For now,” I say, stroking his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble against my fingers. “But don’t worry, I’ll be hungry for you again soon enough.”
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my skin as he nuzzles my neck. “Good to know. Wouldn’t want you getting bored of me, now would we?”
I giggle, the lightness between us feeling so new, so different from everything that’s come before. It’s like the tension that’s always simmered between us, that electric current of danger and desire, has transformed into something warmer, something sweeter. I can’t stop smiling. I’m almost giddy with it.
My stomach growls again, louder this time, and Luca pulls back just enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “As much as I’d love to keep teasing you, I think it’s time we got you something to eat before you faint from hunger.”
“Fine,” I sigh, pretending to pout even though I’m still grinning like an idiot. “But only if you promise we can pick up where we left off later.”
He laughs, a rich, deep sound that sends shivers down my spine. “Deal.”
Luca leans in for one more kiss—slow, sweet, and lingering—before reluctantly pulling away. As he stands, I feel the absence of his warmth immediately, and I have to resist the urge to pull him back down on top of me.
Instead, I watch him move with the ease of someone who is entirely comfortable in his own skin. He starts picking up our discarded clothes, tossing me my shirt with a playful grin.
I slip it on, feeling strangely content as we get dressed. Something has changed between us. It’s more than just the fact that we finally told each other how we feel—though that’s a huge part of it. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my chest, a heaviness I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying. For the first time in a long time, I feel light. I feel happy.
Once we’re both dressed, Luca takes my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen. “Come on, let’s find you something to eat before you waste away on me.”
“Should I be offended?” I tease, giving his hand a squeeze. “Are you saying I’m too skinny?”
Luca glances down at me, his lips curving into a slow, appreciative smile. “You’re perfect. But I still want to feed you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling as we make our way to the kitchen. It’s just the two of us. No interruptions, no drama, just a quiet, intimate dinner. Luca insists on cooking, and I can’t help but laugh at how serious he looks as he moves around the kitchen, completely at ease in a way that surprises me. I’ve seen him be ruthless, dangerous, and commanding, but this? This is new.
“I didn’t know the great Luca Strambo knew his way around a kitchen,” I quip, perching on a stool at the counter to watch him work.
He shoots me a mock-offended look. “I’ll have you know, I’m a man of many talents.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” I reply, my voice dripping with innuendo. Good Lord, who am I ? “But cooking? That’s unexpected.”
Luca grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, Mrs. Strambo, prepare to be amazed. I’m about to rock your world… culinarily speaking, of course.”
I laugh, shaking my head at his antics. “Big words, Mr. Strambo. Let’s see if you can back them up.”
As Luca cooks, we fall into an easy banter, trading quips and teasing remarks. It’s a side of him I’ve rarely seen, and I find myself falling even more in love with this playful, relaxed version of my husband.
The meal is simple—pasta, bread, a glass of wine—but it feels like a feast. We sit across from each other, talking and laughing, sharing stories and memories. Every so often, Luca reaches across the table to touch my hand, and each time, I feel a flutter in my chest that makes me feel like a teenager again, giddy and nervous and completely in love.
“So,” Luca says, twirling pasta around his fork, “tell me something I don’t know about you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “After everything we’ve been through, you think there’s still something you don’t know?”
He shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. “There’s always more to learn. For instance, I bet you didn’t know that I once considered becoming a professional dancer.”
I nearly choke on my wine. “You’re joking .”
“I’m not,” he insists, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I was quite the ballerino in my youth.”
The mental image of a young Luca in tights and a tutu is too much. I burst out laughing, nearly doubling over in my seat. “Oh, God, please tell me there are pictures.”
Luca’s smirk widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would, actually,” I say, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes. “In fact, I demand to see them. It’s my right as your wife.”
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what do I get in return?”
I pretend to consider for a moment, then lean forward, my voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “How about a private dance performance… of a very different kind?”
Luca’s eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might drag me back to the bedroom right then and there. But then he chuckles, shaking his head. “You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Strambo. But I’m afraid those pictures are long gone.”
“Pity,” I sigh dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination.”
By the time we finish, I’m full and happy, my cheeks sore from smiling so much. Luca stands and offers me his hand. “Ready for bed?”
I nod, slipping my hand into his. He leads me upstairs, and as we crawl into bed together, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud of bliss. We cuddle under the covers, and for the first time, I introduce Luca to one of my guilty pleasures—trashy reality TV.
At first, he scoffs at the ridiculousness of it all, his brow furrowing as he watches the over-the-top drama unfold on the screen. But by the second episode, he’s hooked. He starts muttering under his breath, cursing at the TV as though the characters can hear him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grumbles as one of the contestants makes a particularly boneheaded decision. “How does this guy even function?”
I burst out laughing, snuggling closer to him as he throws his arm around me, pulling me tight against his chest. “Told you it was addictive.”
He shakes his head in mock disbelief, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. “I think you’ve ruined me, Mia. I’ll never be the same.”
“Good,” I tease, reaching up to kiss his jaw. “It’s about time you experienced the finer things in life.”
Luca grins, his eyes softening as he looks down at me. “I love you,” he says, the words warm and full of affection.
My heart skips a beat, and I smile, feeling my chest swell with happiness. “I love you too.”
As the credits roll on the last episode, Luca stretches, his muscles flexing in a way that makes my breath catch. He catches me staring and grins, that devilish glint back in his eyes.
“See something you like, Mrs. Strambo?” he teases, echoing his words from earlier.
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, but I don’t look away. “Always,” I reply, my voice soft but sure.
Luca’s grin softens into something more tender. He stands, offering me his hand. “Come here,” he says, pulling me to my feet.
“What are you up to?” I ask, curious and a little breathless as he leads me to the center of the room.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulls me close, one hand on my waist, the other taking my hand. “I think I owe you a dance,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
Before I can respond, he starts to move. There’s no music playing, but we don’t need it. Luca leads with a grace that surprises me, his movements fluid and sure. It’s nothing like the stiff, formal dances I’ve been taught.
This is something else entirely—intimate, sensual, full of unspoken emotion.
“I thought you were joking about the dancing,” I say softly as he guides me through a slow turn.
Luca chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I may have exaggerated the ballet part, but I wasn’t lying about knowing how to dance.”
I’m struck by how natural it feels as we move together. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling. It’s like our bodies were made to fit together this way, to move as one. Luca’s eyes never leave mine, and what I see in them takes my breath away.
Love. Pure, unguarded love.
It’s a side of Luca I've never seen before. The walls he usually keeps up, the hardness that comes from years of fighting and surviving—it’s all gone. In this moment, he’s completely open, completely vulnerable.
And it’s all for me.
I feel tears prick at my eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion I see in his gaze. Luca notices, his brow furrowing in concern.
“Mia?” he says softly, slowing our movements. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, smiling through my tears. “Nothing’s wrong,” I assure him. “It’s just… I love you so much, Luca. So much it hurts sometimes.”
His expression softens, and he pulls me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Mia. More than I ever thought possible.”
As we sway together, barely moving now, just holding each other close, a thought occurs to me. When was the last time someone told Luca they loved him? Was it before his mother was committed? Before his father died and his world fell apart?
My heart aches at the thought of Luca going so long without hearing those words, without feeling loved. I think of the man I first met—cold, hard, driven by anger and revenge.
How long had he been carrying that pain, that loneliness?
In that moment, I make a silent vow. I will tell Luca I love him every day. I will show him, in every way I can, how much he means to me. I will be the family he’s been missing for so long.
“Luca,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.
“Hmm?” he murmurs, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my back.
“I love you,” I say, putting every ounce of feeling I can into those three words. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
A slow smile spreads across Luca’s face, lighting up his eyes in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
“Good,” I reply, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. “Because I plan on saying it a lot.”
Luca leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s so tender, so full of love, it brings fresh tears to my eyes. When we part, he rests his forehead against mine again, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.
“Thank you,” he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.
“For what?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
He opens his eyes, and the vulnerability I see in them nearly breaks my heart. “For loving me,” he says simply. “For coming back. For seeing past all the ugliness, all the damage. For giving me a chance.”
I shake my head, smiling softly. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Luca. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
He laughs, a sound of pure joy that makes my heart soar. “God, what did I do to deserve you?”
“You’re you,” I say, kissing him softly. “That’s more than enough.”
As we stand there, swaying gently to a music only we can hear, I feel a sense of rightness settle over me. This is where I belong. In Luca’s arms, in his heart.
And I know, with a certainty that runs bone-deep, that I will spend the rest of my life making sure he never doubts my love again.
Because Luca Strambo may be a dangerous man, a powerful man, a man with a past darker than most. But he’s also my man. My husband. My love.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.