Luca
The house didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the décor or the silence that filled his home now. It wasn’t even the faint scent of gunpowder that was still clinging to his clothes. It was her. She was quickly changing everything about his home and him, and that scared the hell out of him.
He’d seen women scream, cry, and try to bargain their way out.
They all fell apart under less pressure.
He knew how to handle that type of pressure.
He learned how to control it and even make it end.
But this cold, internal shift was something else.
Isabella was a woman who was recalculating her situation, and that could be dangerous for him.
“She didn’t eat,” Dante said. “She won’t rest or even sit down for five minutes. She just paces in her room.”
“Are you locking her down completely?” Dante asked. “Or is she free to come and go as she pleases?”
Luca’s gaze stayed fixed on the glass. “She’s not to leave the premises,” he said.
Dante nodded. “Got it.” He started for the door and turned back to Luca. “She’s not going to like that,” he quickly added.
Luca’s mouth curved faintly. “Good.” Because if she liked it, that would mean she wasn’t paying attention, and Isabella paid attention to everything.
Dante left without another word. Luca stayed where he was for another minute, maybe two, letting the quiet settle and allowing the plan to solidify in his head.
When he was sure that he had worked everything out, he made his way down the hall toward her.
He didn’t knock or hesitate. He just opened the door.
Isabella stood near the window, her arms wrapped around herself again, staring out at the city like she could find answers in it.
She didn’t turn when he entered, but then, he didn’t expect her to.
“I told you to rest,” he said.
“I’m not tired,” she insisted. Her voice was flat and controlled. She sounded different from the way that she had earlier—almost like she had given up some of her fight. Luca shut the door behind him with a soft click.
“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said.
“I know,” she breathed, finally turning to look at him. And there it was—he saw no fire or challenge in her gaze. She seemed more focused, and to him, that was worse. He could deal with her fighting him, but he didn’t know how to deal with her simply giving up.
“What now?” she asked, jumping straight into the subject that he was trying to avoid. Her voice was void of emotion, and he hated that she was putting on a brave face for him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean,” she said, stepping away from the window, “what happens next?”
Luca studied her carefully. She was holding it together almost too well. “That depends,” he said.
“On what?” she asked.
“On whether you’re going to keep fighting me,” he replied, “or start paying attention to what I tell you to do.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve been paying attention.”
“Not enough,” he said, “and if you are paying attention, you certainly aren’t doing as I tell you to do.
” A flicker of irritation sparked behind her eyes.
Good. There she was—the woman who had shown up at his club, asking around about him.
He needed that feisty princess to step up and take charge again.
“Then explain it to me,” she said. “Since you seem to think I don’t understand anything.”
Luca stepped closer—slow and measured. “You don’t understand my world, honey,” he said. “Not yet, at least.”
Her jaw tightened. “Try me.” She was giving him a challenge, and he never sidestepped a challenge. He moved closer to her—close enough that the tension in the room shifted and changed into something that he couldn’t quite name.
“You don’t leave this house without me,” he said.
Her expression hardened immediately. “No,” she immediately responded.
“You don’t go anywhere alone,” he continued.
“No,” she simply said again.
“You don’t answer calls, texts, or messages from anyone without me knowing,” he said.
Her eyes flashed, and he could almost feel her anger. “Absolutely not.”
Luca’s gaze darkened. “We’re not negotiating here, Isabella.”
“I’m not trying to negotiate with you, Luca. I’m simply not agreeing to your demands,” she said.
“You don’t have a choice in any of this, honey,” he growled. Silence snapped between them as her chest rose sharply from breathing hard.
“Stop saying that,” she spat.
“Then stop telling me no,” he said.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I’m not one of your men to control.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not.”
He stepped closer. “You’re something I protect.”
Her breath caught. Damn it. He saw it—that crack in her armor that did strange things to his heart. Seeing her that way made him care when that was the last thing he needed.
“Don’t,” she said, quieter now.
“Don’t what?” he breathed.
“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” she insisted.
“And what is it?” he asked.
Her voice sharpened again. “It’s a cage.”
Luca didn’t flinch. “Yeah,” he said. Honesty seemed to hit harder than denial would have. Her eyes widened slightly.
“You’re admitting that?” she asked.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” he said. “I don’t have time for games like that.”
“Why not?” she snapped. “You control everything and everyone else around you with your lies. Why make an exception for me?”
Luca stepped closer again until there was barely any space between them.
“Because lies get people killed,” he said quietly.
“And right now, I need you alive.” Her breath hitched, telling him that he had her attention.
“And the only way that happens,” he continued, “is if you stay exactly where I put you.”
She shook her head, backing up a step. “No. You don’t get to just decide—”
“I already did,” he interrupted. Her legs hit the edge of the bed, and she stopped—not because she wanted to, but because she had nowhere else to go.
Luca closed the distance between them, one step at a time, until they were practically nose to nose.
Her pulse was visible in her throat—fast and unsteady.
He noticed, because he always noticed things like that.
“You keep thinking this is about control,” he said.
“It is,” she insisted.
“No,” he corrected. “It’s about keeping you breathing long enough to figure out who wants you dead.” The silence between them was heavy and raw. Her eyes searched his as though she was looking for something. Maybe a weakness, or even doubt, but she wouldn’t find anything.
“What if I don’t want your protection?” she asked.
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “Then you die.” The words landed between them—cold and final. He left no room for argument.
Her breath shook. “And if I stay?”
“Then, you live,” he breathed.
Her eyes dropped to the floor for just a second. He could tell that she was processing everything that he had just said and calculating her next move. That worked for him because it meant that she was finally starting to understand just how dangerous the situation was.
“But there’s more,” he added.
Her gaze snapped back to his. “Of course there is.”
Luca’s jaw tightened slightly. “They know about you.”
“I figured that much,” she spat.
“They don’t just know your name,” he continued. “They know where you were and who you were with. They saw you with me.” He could see the anxiety in her eyes when she realized that he was right. “They think you matter to me,” he said.
“I don’t,” she insisted.
He shook his head. “You do now.”
“You can’t be serious,” she whispered. “There is no way that I matter to you, Luca.”
“You do matter to me, Isabella. You’re going to be my wife, and that means that you matter to me.” He offered no apology and no hesitation in giving her the truth.
“Why?” she asked. “I thought that I was just a business deal for you. My father wanted to stop the war that he created by killing your uncle, and you agreed to take me as payment. That’s it, or at least it should be.
” She was right. That was how this all started.
Romano killed his uncle, and he retaliated by killing some of the Romano family’s key men.
If her father wanted the war stopped, then he’d have to pay a price—namely, Isabella.
Luca held her gaze, trying to decide if he wanted to give her the answer playing through his head.
It was the truth, and he owed her at least that much.
“If they think you matter to me,” he said slowly, “they won’t try to kill you.
There will be no more random kidnapping attempts because my name carries weight.
They won’t want to cross me by hurting my wife. ”
Her brows pulled together. “Or,” she countered, “they’ll come harder for me. They’ll want to get to me to hurt you.”
“Yeah.” That was something that he worried about, too.
She let out a shaky breath. “You’re using me,” she accused. “You think that marrying me will end the war, and it won’t.” He knew that she was probably right, but a part of him wanted to marry her for other reasons now, not just to end the fucking war. But there was no way that he’d tell her that.
“I’m protecting you,” he insisted.
“Isn’t that the same thing?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter what you call it. You say that you’re protecting me, but you’re really just using me to get what you want.”
“You’re not even close to being right,” he growled.
He took a few steps towards her until there was nothing between them except the tension that filled the air.
That and the heat that he felt every time he dared to get too close to her.
It felt like something sharp and dangerous that neither of them wanted to name.
“You think I’d let anyone touch what’s mine?” he said quietly. Her breath caught.
“There it is again,” she whispered. “That word.”
“Get used to it,” he breathed.
“I don’t belong to you,” she whispered. He couldn’t help but bark out his laugh. She had no idea just how wrong she was.
Luca’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth—then back to her eyes. “You’re in my house,” he said. “Under my protection, and that makes you mine.”
“And the marriage?” she asked, her voice stronger now.
“It’s going to happen, as planned,” he insisted.
“Because you want it to?” she asked.
“No,” he breathed. His honesty seemed to surprise her. “Because it keeps you alive,” he finished.
Silence fell between them again, but this time it felt different. He could tell that she had lost some of her fight, and that was the moment he’d been waiting for.
Her shoulders lowered slightly—not in surrender, but acceptance.
“Fine,” she said quietly. Luca didn’t move because, honestly, he didn’t know how to react to her concession. Instead, he just stood in front of her, watching for her to make the next move. “I’ll stay,” she added. “But don’t think that means that I’m yours.”
Luca’s mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile, but something darker—satisfaction.
“If that’s what you want,” he said. He stepped back, finally giving her space, but not really because space wouldn’t change anything.
Not now, and not because she had finally agreed to stay and let him protect her.
“You can tell yourself whatever you need to,” he added.
He turned toward the door and paused just long enough.
“This doesn’t change the fact that no one touches you without going through me first.” Her breath hitched, but he didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to, because Luca Camorra already knew that she wasn’t leaving.
And neither was he. Not until this war ended.
He’d fight until the very end—even if it meant the end of him.