Chapter 27 Emma
One Month Later.
Chad is in front of me, going on about the new project. Apparently, a cosmetics company wants us to launch a campaign—it’s expensive and long-term. My boss is thrilled, just as thrilled as the day we landed the Property Group account. I can practically see the dollar signs spinning in his pupils.
I watch him pace the office while he talks. Chad thinks better on his feet, but my mind is miles away.
Specifically, at the offices of Property Group.
The last time I saw Luca was that night. According to his brothers, who somehow started treating me decently, Luca went back home, and I haven’t heard from him since.
I miss him. I want to see him, to explain what he heard. But…
"Get out of here, Emma." His clenched jaw, his fists tight and pale from the pressure.
I don’t know if he’s ready to see me. That’s why I haven’t reached out. I haven’t called him, emailed him, texted him.
All I have is the painting in my apartment, his stoic, beautiful face staring at me every day.
Oh! But I haven’t spoken to Gargoth. Maybe that’s a good way to reach him again?
“Emma, are you listening to me?”
Shit.
“You caught me, Chad. Sorry, I’ve got a killer headache,” I lie, pressing my fingers to my temples. The truth is, it’s not my head that hurts, it’s my chest.
“Oh, well…we can pick this up tomorrow. Go home.”
“Really?” I smile.
“Yeah, go. I need you fresh. I need your ideas.”
I grab my bag. “Thank you! You’re the best boss ever!”
“That’s what they all say...” he mutters with a smirk. I don’t love the joke, but I laugh anyway—just so I can leave.
When I get home, I open Instagram and snap a photo of the painting.
Hearts start pouring in. Everyone loves the colors, the intensity. More than one person asks how much I’m selling it for. I tell them all the same thing: it’s not for sale.
The hours pass.
But Gargoth says nothing. No cryptic phrases. No cosmic questions.
Just silence.
I crack my knuckles, pacing around the apartment, tidying things up to calm my nerves, cleaning things I’ve been avoiding for weeks.
My phone buzzes.
Gargoth:
How much is it worth?
I smile as my fingers tap out a reply.
LoveLamb:
Thirty minutes of your time.
The typing bubbles pop up. Then disappear. Then reappear.
My leg starts bouncing.
Gargoth:
Okay.
Without another word, I call an Uber and leave for his house.
Thirty minutes in the car. My stomach is tight. My nerves spiked. My breathing uneven. This could go really right… or really wrong. And the uncertainty is driving me mad. I step out of the car carefully, the painting wrapped in paper, clutched in my hands.
I ring the doorbell, and Luca opens the door immediately, like he was standing right behind it, just as anxious as I am. He’s wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt that outlines every muscle in his chest.
“Hi.”
“Hey, Em.” His voice is tired. His eyes too.
He steps away from the door and walks toward the kitchen. I follow him inside and close the door gently. The tension is thick. I don’t want to upset him again. I don’t want to see that look of hatred in his eyes like I did that night.
The look of betrayal.
He pours two glasses of water and hands me one. Before I can thank him, he turns to the nearest window and stares out at the ocean, his back to me.
“The thirty minutes started the moment I opened the door. I’d start talking if I were you,” he mutters over his left shoulder.
Shit.
So, this is what it’s like talking to the infamous Luca Walker.
I nod, place the painting on the table, and clear my throat.
“The day we were supposed to get married, I was nervous. It felt right, but there was something off in my stomach I couldn’t explain.
I didn’t realize what it was until I walked out of my house and saw your father waiting for me.
I felt like a kid caught doing something wrong.
I expected him to tell me he didn’t approve, to say something cruel.
I was ready to ignore him and run to the church.
But instead… he started listing where my dad worked, where my mom worked, what college Lauren went to.
.. and then he told me how easily he could ruin our lives. I panicked.”
Luca takes a breath, his grip on the glass tight, but he doesn’t turn around.
I continue, “He said you were destined for greatness, and that I was just another girl on a long list. That I’d never be enough for you.
And eventually, you’d leave me. He said if I went through with it, I’d ruin your future, that you wouldn’t work at Property Group.
And you know what, Luca? I believed him.
I understood. Because that’s what felt off in my gut—you had a life ahead of you, and I was the one holding you back. ”
“It was my choice,” he says, his voice flat. His eyes were still on the crashing waves beyond his private beach.
“I know. But there was an empire waiting for you… and I was just a village.”
Luca finally turns around, and our eyes lock. “No, Em. You were my universe.”
I look down immediately, unable to bear the pain in his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew the moment I told you what your father did… would be the moment you stopped speaking to him forever.”
“You were right. I’m never speaking to that son of a bitch again.”
“And that’s what I was afraid of, Luca.”
My ex-fiancé slams the glass onto the table, spilling some water over his hand and the surface. “It wasn’t your decision, Emma!” he shouts. “You broke my fucking heart! And I’m sorry he scared you like that, but you knew what he was capable of! You knew better than anyone!”
“I did.”
“This whole conversation is pointless,” he mutters, pacing around the table between us.
“No, it’s not, Luca! You weren’t the only one who suffered! I lived in fear and heartbreak because I couldn’t have you! I was just a kid, I didn’t know how far your dad would go, and we could barely afford food! I couldn’t risk testing Thomas Walker!” For the first time, I’m yelling.
Luca listens.
“I was a child,” I say again, softer now. “I was terrified. I lost you and had to live with the fact that you hated me.” Tears fill my eyes. “And I hated myself for years.”
“Why?”
“Because more than once… I was willing to sacrifice my family just to be with you.”
Silence.
Luca’s brows soften. There’s guilt in his expression now. I lower my gaze, not wanting to look at him, but I track him as he moves toward the wrapped painting on the table.
My heart pounds. My nerves spike. A chill runs through my arms. He tears the paper. Shreds fall to the floor as he unveils the painting. The modified one.
His eyes widen as he stares at it. He’s seen his face through my hands before—but not the white-inked question written across his body:
Will you marry me?
He lifts his gaze and holds mine for several seconds. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath.
“Are you sure?” His voice is heavy, just like the first day I met him in his office. “Because if you say yes, Emma Green, I’ll put you on a plane and marry you today. Vegas.”
I nod slowly.
Luca drops the painting like it’s on fire and walks toward me, stopping just inches away. His eyes are scared. Almost desperate. “Are you serious? You want to marry me?”
“I always did.”
His hands frame my face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Emma…” he breathes over my lips.
“You didn’t answer me, Luke.”
He laughs.
“Of course I want to marry you, little lamb. I’ve wanted to marry you since the day you yelled at me in the halls of Willow High.”
His mouth crashes into mine, desperate and claiming. My gasp disappears against his lips as his hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him like he’ll never let go.
I hook my legs around his hips, and we stumble until we collapse onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. His jacket is gone in seconds, tossed somewhere, and his hands are already tugging at the zipper of my dress.
“Off,” he growls, breaking the kiss just long enough to peel the fabric down my body. His eyes devour me as the dress falls away, his chest rising and falling like he’s starving.
My fingers fumble with his shirt, yanking it open, buttons scattering, the smooth heat of his skin finally under my palms. He groans into my mouth when I slide my hands down his torso, and then he’s out of the rest of his clothes, urgent, unstoppable.
“You took too long, Emma,” he says against my skin, his voice wrecked. “I couldn’t wait one more day.”
I bury my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. “I’m here now. I’m yours.”
His answer is a feral sound, low and raw, before he sinks into me with hunger and purpose. The world falls away—there’s only his body, his heat, his wild rhythm as he takes me like he’s carving me into his soul.
“Luca!” My cry breaks the air, and he swallows it with another kiss, his hand tangled with mine, our bodies moving in frantic sync.
The couch surrounds us, but it’s him I’m lost in. Every thrust, every groan, every promise. My orgasm builds sharp and fast, my mind going white.
“Emma, give it to me,” he commands, forehead pressed to mine, his voice breaking.
And I do. I shatter in his arms, crying out his name, as he follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, collapsing against me.
His lips find my ear, trembling with confession. “I love you.”
I cradle his face, his vulnerability wrecking me more than his hunger ever could. My voice shakes, but it’s steady with truth. “I love you too, Gargoyle.”