17. Irina
Chapter 17
Irina
I ’d been awake for an hour, wrapped in Luca’s warmth.
I watched him sleep, admiring the lines and crevices of his rugged face.
His body was covered in tattoos, starting from his neck, and each design was intricate, weaving around his muscles—a work of art.
An unfamiliar sensation bubbled in the pit of my stomach and, for some unknown reason, I wanted to stay in his embrace.
Was it so wrong for me to want that?
He’d seen me at my worst multiple times and didn’t loathe me for it.
And I was selfish when it came to him because I knew he’d break my fall. He’d shown me once that I didn’t have to be alone in my pain. And he continued to show me.
A sharp sensation drifted to my chest at the realization that I’d never stood a chance of avoiding him .
I could admit that I’d been malicious toward him, and it came from the wretched parts of my soul where it was hard for me to see the good in others.
I could also admit that he calmed a part of me that I never thought would rest. Every time I was with him, it felt as though the hollowness inside my chest was being stitched anew.
Luca had managed to breach that barrier and take a piece of me for himself.
He was unlike anyone I’d ever met before. As infuriating and maddening as he was, he managed to dig himself into my life without weighing the consequences.
A smile touched my face as I traced his aristocratic nose with my finger. The brute was a heavy sleeper, oblivious to the turmoil happening inside me.
I’d come to figure out that this wasn’t a game to him. That I wasn’t another object on his board.
Not when he’d cleaned my wounds for the second time.
Not when he accepted my silence for answers.
Not when he brought me back from my nightmares and held me as if he wanted to take my pain away. As if my feelings were valid.
The sting of unshed tears burned the back of my throat as I moved my finger down to his full lips. “The truth is, I do want you, Luca. I know that now,” I whispered, knowing he wasn’t conscious to hear my words.
I palmed his face, stroking the light stubble underneath. If only I could see those whiskey eyes of his.
Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his, a tear rolling down my cheek. “But you and I can never be. ”
We’re on different sides of the same coin.
Whatever was happening between us had already exceeded to depths I shouldn’t have allowed, and I needed to put an end to it.
My father was waiting for me to complete my mission and I’d extended my stay in Italy longer than necessary. I needed to tell Nicolai who he was and leave.
It was better this way, less messy, and the last thing I needed was to be involved in something as complicated as this.
I rose from the bed carefully, reaching for my clothes from last night and hesitated, staring at his leather jacket before grabbing it.
He could get another one.
I took one last look at him and, because I was a masochist, I peered around his room in hopes of understanding him a little better.
His bedroom matched the rest of the house, earthy tones with darker shadings. It was simplistic, unlike himself.
I glanced back at Luca, stretched out across the bed. Life had carved his body into something haunting. Old scars and new covered by shades and lines of ink. Proof of his experience in depravity in some form.
Maybe in the next life, I’d have that time to trace them all.
My throat felt tight as I moved toward the door.
Until we meet again.
It was harder than I thought, sneaking back into Roman’s house, but I’d made it into my room without being noticed.
Immediately, I headed into the bathroom, stripped out of my clothes and stood beneath the shower head, rinsing the layer of filth I could never seem to get rid of.
The click of the door sounded, and I didn’t need to turn to know it was Aurora. No one else ever came into my room uninvited—except for that one time with Luca.
I touched my lips with my fingertips, remembering the devastating way he kissed me for the first time that night.
“Where have you been?” My best friend's concerned voice echoed in the space.
“What do you mean?” I asked, washing my hair in hopes of avoiding further conversation.
“You didn’t come home last night, and Gianna saw you come in this morning.”
Shit.
“Didn’t know Gianna was a gossiper,” I muttered.
“Are you being serious?”
I shrugged. The conversation was taking a turn for the worse, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from instigating it.
What did it matter, anyway? Aurora would hate me after what I’d plan on doing.
I shut the water off and wrapped a towel around myself before stepping out to stand in front of her.
Her eyes widened as concern swept across her features. “What the hell, Rina? Your face!”
My heart dropped; I’d completely forgotten about the cuts .
“What happened?”
“I fell off my bike.”
Aurora’s eyes turned a deep shade of green as she narrowed them at me. “Really?”
“Yes, really .” The harder she stared at me; the stronger fury slithered its way up my spine. “What’s with the tone?”
“You were out all night. . . ” She paused, her head tilting in suspicion. “Why are you being so defensive?”
The air grew tense, and anger brimmed to the surface as we stared at each other with irritation. It was too much. With leaving Luca and Aurora’s questioning, I couldn’t take it.
“You’re overbearing!” I waved my hand in exasperation. “You come in here while I’m naked—might I add—and interrogate me?”
Hurt flashed across her face. “Is that what you think?”
The gaping hole in my chest leaked with pain. My silence was enough of an answer.
“Sorry I give a shit about your whereabouts in a foreign country,” she spat out.
“Save the motherly concern for your child.”
She stumbled back, her mouth parting as her brows pinched in shock.
I’d gone too far. I regretted the words as soon as they fell from my mouth. “Wait, Aurora, I didn’t mean that.” I grabbed her wrist when she attempted to leave.
Her face flashed with hurt, eyes full of love, and it killed me. “I worry about you.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Leaning down, I placed a kiss on her baby bump, emotion surging up my throat. “You don’t need to worry about me. I promise I’m okay.”
I didn’t know how to fix something that was meant to be broken, anyway.