7. Luca
SEVEN
Luca
When I walk into the luggage room, the first thing I see is her. Fiamma. Barely conscious, slumped in a chair, wrapped in several layers of blankets.
Tangled and wet from the snow, her hair is a matted mess. In the dim light, her skin is pale, almost blue, with patches of red, angry chapping across her face and lips. Her hands rest limply on her lap, her fingers cold to the touch, pink and raw from the cold.
My stomach tightens, a surge of anger and panic rising all at once. She looks… broken.
Marina’s hovering by the door, worry etched into her face. “She’s been like this since she came in,” she whispers, wringing her hands. “Frozen to the bone. She doesn’t have any shoes on. I’ve done what I can, but she needs rest, warmth.”
I nod, my throat tight. Fiamma’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her lips cracked and dry. She looks so fragile, so completely unlike the feisty, maddening woman I know, the woman who could drive me insane with a single look. Now… she’s barely holding on.
I kneel beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, trying not to let the flood of emotions show. “Fiamma,” I say, my voice low, careful. “I’m going to carry you to your suite now.”
She barely nods, but acknowledges what I’ve said. I pick her up, cradling her in my arms, leaving her blankets in place.
“Marina, don’t mention this to anyone. I want to get to the bottom of this so that I know what we are dealing with.”
“Yessir, Mr. Rossi. Not a word.”
I carry her as quickly but as safely as I can down the hall to her suite, hoping to avoid anyone. It is midday so most of the family is out enjoying the Holiday Market or sledding on the back hill. The last thing I want right now is for the rumor mill to start.
When we get to the room carefully place her on the sofa and make sure she is covered.
I turn on the gas starter to light the wood the staff put out this morning. The fire starts swiftly and it will only be a few minutes before the wood catches and starts to put off some heat. I kneel beside her as she snuggles up. “Fiamma, I need to know what happened. Can you tell me anything at all?”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes half-lidded, drifting in and out of consciousness. I grip her hand, feeling the ice still clinging to her skin, the faint pulse beneath my fingers .
She’s freezing. Her body’s been through hell. How for fuck’s sake did this happen? And why did she go out there?
“Fiamma,” I whisper again, leaning closer, my hand resting on her shoulder on top of the covers. “Please talk to me.”
Her lips part slightly, but no words come. I can see her struggling, her body trembling, fighting the cold that still lingers inside her. I don’t want to push her—not yet. Not while she’s like this.
But I need answers. And I need them soon.
I stand near the fireplace, pacing back and forth, my mind racing. Fiamma’s still out, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She’s been sleeping for four hours now and I’m about to lose my shit. I’ve smoked almost an entire pack of no-filter cigarettes on the back deck waiting for her to awaken.
The room is quiet, but it feels suffocating. Every time I look at her, lying there so fragile, I feel this knot tightening in my chest.
I should have been there. I should have stopped her from whatever the hell happened.
I pull out my phone, my hand shaking slightly as I swipe through my contacts until I find a number for Vin, head of security. He’s good at his job, but he’s also a talker. If I tell him what’s really going on, it’ll spread through the lodge like wildfire. And I’m not ready for that. Not until I get the full story from Fiamma.
Fiamma is back. You can call off the dogs.
Is she okay? Just another bout of her running out to get her rocks off?
I glance over at Fiamma, her lips still cracked and dry, her skin pale. Okay? No. Nothing’s okay.
Yeah, all good.
I grit my teeth. I hate this—lying, playing it cool while Fiamma’s half-dead on the couch. But if I give Vin the truth, it’ll get back to Adrian or worse, Massimo. And I don’t have all the pieces yet.
I decide to send a second text in case someone wonders where she’s been.
She’s fine, just needs some rest. Big night.
Copy that. You need anything from my side?
Not right now. Let me handle this. Just keep it quiet for now. She already has everyone mad at her.
10-4
I shove the phone back into my pocket, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s not much of a lie, but it still sits heavily on me. I don’t like hiding things from the family, especially Adrian, but until I know what really happened, I can’t risk blowing this up into something bigger.
My attention drifts back to Fiamma as she lays there. She looks so small, so different from the wild, stubborn woman I’ve been chasing.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, my mind racing. What the hell happened out there?
The thought of her running through the snow, barefoot, freezing makes me sick. She’s tough, but even she shouldn’t have to handle that. And now, I’m stuck waiting for her to wake up and give me the answers I need. I need to know if she’s really safe now or if this is just the beginning of something worse.
I start pacing again, the frustration bubbling up inside me. I should be doing something. Anything. But right now, all I can do is wait. I’m not a patient man.
I glance back at the door, half-expecting someone to come barging in, demanding answers I don’t have. But the lodge is quiet. Too quiet. It’s the calm before the storm, and I can feel it in my gut.
I walk back over to the couch and kneel beside her, brushing my hand over her forehead. She’s finally warm to the touch and the color has returned to her face.
Thank God.
I hear her stir before I see her awaken. Her body shifts beneath the blankets. I’m at her side in an instant, kneeling next to the couch, watching as her lashes flicker and her face twists with the effort of waking up.
She looks like hell, pale and drawn. Her lips are still cracked and dry, her hair a tangled mess. But it’s the exhaustion, the pain in her face, that hits me hardest. Seeing her like this is a gut punch like I’ve never experienced. My chest tightens and a knot forms in my throat that I try to swallow down.
She stirs again, her voice raspy and barely above a whisper. “Luca…”
“I’m here,” I say softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re safe. I sent for chicken noodle soup and your favorite tea, but if you want something else, I’ll get it for you.”
She shakes her head slightly, her lips barely moving. “Water, please. I need water.”
“Of course,” I murmur. I help her sit up, keeping the blankets wrapped tight around her, though I can see how cold she still is as her teeth chatter. I grab a glass from the table, tilting it carefully to her lips as she sips slowly.
The room is quiet except for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. The massive tree in the corner glows faintly, its lights casting a warm shimmer over the room.
Outside, the sun’s setting, the blue snow reflecting back through the windows, making the world seem peaceful—at least from in here. But the peace doesn’t reach me. Not even close.
I sit beside her on the couch, still watching her closely, trying to read her. She keeps the blanket pulled tight around her, still fighting off the chill. My heart breaks seeing her like this. She looks fragile and defeated.
Finally, she speaks. Her voice cracks as she begins, and I listen carefully, every word cutting through the quiet like a blade .
“I thought it was housekeeping,” she says, her voice small, shaky. A gentle knock jolted me awake from my sleep on the couch. I ordered towels the night before, and I thought it was them.”
Her eyes glaze over, filling with tears she tries to hold back. “When I opened the door, someone grabbed me. I didn’t even see who it was before they… They must have drugged me.”
I tense beside her, my fists clenching as I try to hold myself back, the rage rising like a wave. For her sake, I keep it in check. For now.
“They drove me somewhere,” she continues, her voice barely holding together. “I don’t know where. It was dark, cold. Then I saw him. It was Marco. He told me… he told me I was his ticket out of the shadows of his brother. He said… he said I was supposed to be his… in some twisted way.” She takes a shaky breath, her tears now streaming down her cheeks.
I don’t say a word, while I watch as her hands tremble. She’s fighting to get it out, and all I can do is be here, let her speak. The way he treated her, the way he had her tied up, I want to hunt him down and put a bullet between his eyes. Every word she says makes my blood boil.
“When I told him a couple of months ago that we couldn’t fool around anymore,” she says through tears, “he was angry but I had no idea it was to this level. This morning he told I was supposed to marry him, that he had plans. Luca, I swear, I had no idea about any of this.”
“Shhh. I know. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.” I know saying this now must seem hollow to her, I’ve been hammering it into her that fucking around with Marco is what brought all of this on. But I know that isn’t entirely true. She isn’t to blame for this. If anyone is, I am.
“I didn’t want anything to do with him. I thought… I thought it was over. When he walked out of the shadows in that place they had me tied up, I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes.” She covers her face with her hands, shaking. “He told me he was going to use me to lure all of you to him and I knew I couldn’t let that happen.”
I reach out, placing my hand on her arm gently, trying to offer some comfort.
She looks at me through wet lashes. “I played along, hoping that if I made him believe I wanted to be with him, I could convince him to let me go. I persuaded him to let me go so I could infiltrate my family and help him take them down from the inside. I told him what I thought he wanted to hear.”
“That was actually shrewd, Fiamma. You did exactly the right thing.”
Her sobs break the silence, raw and painful. My throat tightens. “When he insisted I run barefoot through the woods, when he said that was the only way it would be believable, I wasn’t sure I’d survive. But I knew my odds were better out there, in the cold, than staying with him. Letting him use me, or do who knows what to me.” She shudders and the sobs continue.
I’ve never seen anyone cry like this, certainly not Fiamma. She’s broken, vulnerable, and my heart aches seeing her like this. Her hands and ankles bear the marks—the raw, red ligature marks from where she was bound .
I swallow hard, my own emotions knotting in my chest, but I don’t let them show. This isn’t about me. It’s important for me to be strong, to let her know she is safe and that I will protect her.
She looks up at me, her red and splotchy, her voice barely audible. “I don’t remember much after I ran. When I saw you I knew I was safe.”
I’ve never heard sweeter words. If I weren’t a grown man, I might lose it completely right here. But I keep my emotions in check because I am not supposed to have feelings.
I pull her into my arms, wrapping her up in the blankets as she sobs quietly into my chest. I don’t say anything. Words feel too small right now. Instead, I hold her close, brushing her hair back as she trembles against me. She trusts me enough to tell me everything. It’s more than just gratitude—it’s something deeper. Something neither of us is ready to say.
For now, I’ll just be here. I’ll protect her. I’ll make sure Marco pays for what he’s done. But right now, all that matters is Fiamma. Safe. Alive. And with me.