33. Luca
LUCA
My whole body has grown cold, even though we’re propped against the pillows with the duvet pulled around us, Milana cradled in my arms.
If this is all true, Milana is the mother of the only grandchild Chertnikov will ever have. Fuck my life. This knowledge is power—so much fucking power, it makes me sick.
And she trusted me with it. It might be a table for two, but I’ve been invited to it. I hold her closer, not sure how else to show her I appreciate her opening up to me.
She looks exhausted where she’s resting against my shoulder, her confession having drained her completely.
“Is there more, Milana?”
I dread being sucked deeper into this whirlpool, not knowing where it’s going to spit me out.
“No, that’s the worst of it,” she says, and the defeated tone of her voice echoes this truth. “Now you understand why I need to go to Russia?”
“Yes. I get it now.”
I get everything. Her sleepless nights. The desperation in her being.
The reason why she’s permanently tense and jumps at everything.
I thought it was because she was forced into this arranged marriage, in love with someone else.
But that fucker betrayed her, left her pregnant, used her for his own goals.
Love dies pretty quickly with that type of nurturing.
No, she isn’t mourning for Dimitri. She’s separated from her baby, and no mother should be.
I need a strong drink and a long think, but my wife hasn’t had dinner. She’s been fighting for so long, nobody in her court.
This is the problem with secrets. They isolate you.
“Does anybody else know? Anybody you could think of? About Annushka?”
“Just Gabi,” she murmurs. “She was there when they drone-dropped the photos of Masha and Annushka. She guessed the bare bones, but you’re the only one I’ve told everything.”
And that’s trust summed up, princess. I can’t break it.
“Okay, given how she was a secret herself, I know she’ll be able to keep yours.” I’m going to have to figure this out but have no idea where to start. “Are you okay?”
“I’m better now. I needed to talk. To finally unburden myself of everything.” She cups my cheek as she nuzzles into my neck, the gesture so sweet and trusting. “Thank you for listening and not judging. For being here. And for being you.”
Ah, fuck. Every emotion I’ve battled to suppress surges up.
She thanked me for being me, something I’m so not used to, with everyone usually thinking I’m Stephano.
The change in me is tectonic, continents of beliefs and paradigms shifting as her trust in me seems to coax me out into the light—for me to see who I am, maybe for the first time.
Not a twin, a body double, a prop, but a man who is needed for who he is at his core, not for this family he was born in, not for his money, just for him. Me.
I bite down on my jaw, forcing myself to not show how much her words affected me.
I want to kiss her so deeply, show her how I feel—how she makes me feel—but I contain myself and press a quiet kiss to her hair, to her temple, treasuring her.
This woman. She might only have been an image before, but now she’s warm, real, and in my arms. I was infatuated with photos of her, but I’ve been falling in love with the real human in my arms.
“Are you okay, Milana?” I ask softly. “After the baby? You haven’t talked about the birth. It can wreck a woman.”
“I’m okay. I had Varya. She checked on me often, preparing me as best she could.
I didn’t tear much, but she stitched me up afterwards.
I haven’t seen a doctor.” She leans back and looks at me.
“There’s modern medicine, which is great when you need it, but we women can do it by ourselves if everything goes right.
I did luck out. I know I lucked out. So many things could have gone wrong, but they didn’t. ”
“Many an angel was looking after you,” I murmur. Like Mom. I sometimes feel her, a quiet presence, guiding me. Especially lately, with this marriage. She’s been my compass, guiding me to put myself in my wife’s shoes and assess how she’d feel before I make a decision.
“Yes. Varya. Masha. My mom. It felt as if she was there in the room with me.”
This feeling is one thing we have in common, something we just get that not everyone else would understand. I smile as she snuggles deeper into my arms, and we just sit for a while.
“One last thing, princess,” I say, needing to cross this bridge now.
I slide a hand down her inner thigh, and a quiver runs through her as she widens her legs to let me in.
It’s the hottest fucking four inches that legs have ever moved, but we’re not going beyond this tonight.
“What am I going to find when I look here?” I murmur softly as my fingers caress her sex, not seeking out her piercing, but touching it all the same.
She tenses. “I hate it. But I love the way it makes me feel. I hate it because it was his, and I haven’t been able to remove it.”
My heart sinks. I bet it’s a match with the one I had to cut from Mara’s body. Skulls. Death. Chertnikov. Soldered—as if there’s no way out. Fuck knows how they did it, but I’ll still remove it.
“Can you—” she breaks off, holding my hand in place as I make to retract it. “Can you check? I was drugged when he…when he—” She buries her face in her hand, shy. “When Dimitri did this to me.”
“Ah, fuck, princess.” If I could kill him ten times over, I would. I gently pry her hand away. “He marked you as his, didn’t he? As Chertnikov’s.”
“Yes.”
And I bet it’s the same piercing that had Ivan in a fucking rage.
I gently disentangle her from the duvet and my arms and lie her down.
The way she looks at me, trust laced with uncertainty, makes me want to earn it even more.
“I’ll take care of it, princess. As you’ve seen, this isn’t my first rodeo. ”
“Okay.”
I touch her hip as I settle next to her and tug at her panties. She helps to pull them down, and suddenly, this seems so fucking intimate, I want to pause. Me. Her. A moment where we can’t go back. I’m fooling nobody. We crossed the bridge and burned it down hours ago.
A soft stroke to her leg makes her splay open and I close in, gently parting her sex. Her scent, the wet arousal still lingering, begs for my tongue. I glide my thumb over the piercing, looking for where it’s been soldered.
“I’d be able to deal with this for you, but it would be better to bring in a pro to replace it.” Someone I trust.
There’s nobody I really trust. Not when it comes to my wife’s safety. But I don’t want to think about it now. I want what I wanted from the start. And I’m going to take it. Not because I’m that fucker, but my taking will give her something she’s never had before. Worship. Dedication. Love.
I home in and kiss her inner thigh, closing my eyes to block out the visual of the two skulls staring at me with empty eyes, and as I circle her pussy with my tongue, I slowly find my way to her center.
“Luca,” she moans, arching into the sensation, widening her legs and burrowing her hands into my hair. “Oh my God, Luca—”
I can’t get enough. Fuck, I’ve never wanted someone more.
I touch her, feel for every scar, every proof of what she’s endured and survived, and some intense feeling of pride balloons in me.
This woman has withstood every trial, quiet, fierce, so freaking strong against all odds, knowing what she had to protect.
A child. An innocent. Hers. And mine. All of her is mine now. Including this child.
She grinds against me, and I don’t give her any reprieve.
I want her to come, release all the tension in her body, let it flow into me so I can help her carry it, be the husband I promised to be, to cherish and protect her.
I reach up, stroke my hand underneath her sweater to her breasts, finding a hardened nipple.
I want to be everywhere, all over her, constantly, her pleasure being mine.
And I feel her give in to me as I slip two fingers into her, upping the pressure, licking her slower, grinding my tongue and knowing the piercing will do the rest.
She pulls her legs up, moaning her release as I curl my fingers, pressing against her inner wall. “Luca…oh fuck…Luca.”
And still she comes and it slicks my fingers, salty sweet on my tongue. Her hands fall away as she just lies there, pulsing, and fuck it’s beautiful, the way she’s opened up and given herself to me in this moment.
She comes down, and I’m careful as I extract my fingers. She looks up at me with dazed eyes as I lean over her.
“What was that?” she murmurs, cupping my cheek, running fingertips over my mouth.
I smile down at her, wanting her to relax and not spiral again over what happened in the past. This is the moment I start building our future.
I’ll need to make a plan to get her and Annushka out of this mess, and I don’t know how I will, but I’ll do it, even if it costs me my life.
A quiet vow to myself as I try to find the words to make her smile.
“Some call that dessert, princess, but we haven’t even eaten dinner. You stay here while I go make you some.”
“Okay.” She smiles. “Can’t wait to see what your idea of an entrée is, but don’t you want to…”
“Nah.” Entrée, hmm? I smirk, but it hides my real thoughts. Whatever this is, it isn’t going to be tit-for-tat transactional sex between us. “I wanted to take care of you.” With that, I tuck her in and press a soft kiss to her hair. “I’ll be back.”
On my way out, I dim the lights. When I return with a sandwich fifteen minutes later, my sweet, darling wife has fallen asleep. Thank God. Let her sleep. I put the plate and glass of juice down on the nightstand, find my phone, switch off the lights, and close the door.
For a long while, I hover, indecisive.
Fuck knows I need to think about how I’m going to deal with this situation.
I don’t want her to wake up alone though. I search my phone and dial the one person I know who will keep quiet and toe the line.
“Luca?” Rosalia answers. The strain in her voice tells me she’s abreast of everything that’s happened today. “What’s up?”
“Where’s Burley?”
“He’s with Matteo and Benedict. Dominic went home to be with Ariana about ten minutes ago. I don’t know what they’re up to.”
“It’s okay. Can you slip out and come to my place? It’s okay for Burley to know, but I’d prefer if nobody else does.”
“Okay. But why?”
“I need to go for ride, Rosie, a long one. I need to think, and I don’t want to leave Milana home alone. She’s sleeping. I bet she’s out for the night. I just want someone to be here, in case.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”