21
The light pouring through my window was soft and warm, but it did little to soothe the tightness in my chest. I stretched beneath the covers, the memories of last night flooding back—the nightmare, the call to Luca , and the way he'd shown up at my apartment like some kind of knight in shining armor.
Luca.
I turned onto my side, my gaze falling on the empty chair beside my bed.
He'd stayed there until I fell asleep, murmuring reassurances and stroking my hair.
I couldn't help but feel embarrassed for calling him so late, but at the same time, I'd been so relieved to hear his voice.
He made me feel safe in a way no one ever had.
But now, in the harsh light of morning, my chest was heavy with guilt and unease. Luca didn't deserve this—the mess of me, the baggage I carried. I'd done everything I could to keep my past locked away, but it was clawing at the edges of my mind, threatening to spill over.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My toes touched the cool floor, grounding me for a moment. I needed to face this, to face him. Luca deserved to know why I was the way I was—why I flinched at harsh words, why nightmares left me sobbing in the dark.
By the time I arrived at the office, Luca was already there, sitting behind his desk with the sharp, commanding presence he always exuded. His eyes snapped to mine the moment I walked in, and for a brief second, they softened.
"Lenora," he said, his voice low and steady.
I hesitated in the doorway, clutching the strap of my bag like a lifeline. "Can we talk? Privately?"
Something flickered in his gaze—concern, maybe—but he nodded and gestured for me to close the door.
I stepped inside, my heart pounding as I crossed the room and sat in the chair opposite him. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his piercing eyes fixed on me.
"What's on your mind?" he asked, his tone gentler than I expected.
I swallowed hard, my fingers twisting in my lap. "I... I want to tell you something. About my past."
His brows furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, giving me the space I didn't realize I needed. "I'm listening."
Oh god why's my hands bloody jelly?
I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say the words I'd kept buried for so long. "When I was a fifteen, I lived with my distant uncle-my father's cousin and his family in England. My parents... they weren't in a position to take care of me."
His expression darkened, but he stayed silent, letting me continue.
"My uncle wasn't cruel, but he wasn't warm, either.
I was more of a responsibility to him than family.
But his son..." My voice wavered, and I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes.
"His son was different. He used to corner me when no one was around, say things, and he used to d.
.do things... He—he took advantage of my innocence. I was too scared to fight back."
Luca's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists on the desk. I looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.
"It went on for years," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "And when I finally told my uncle , he didn't believe me. He said I was making it up to get attention. So, I stopped trying to tell anyone. I thought... maybe it was my fault."
I felt the tears spill over, and I quickly wiped them away. "That's why I have nightmares. That's why I panic when someone yells or gets too close. I'm... I'm broken, Luca. And I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess."
The room was silent for a long moment. I didn't dare look up, too afraid of what I might see in his expression.
"Lenora," he said finally, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.
I flinched at the sound, but when I looked up, his rage wasn't directed at me. His eyes were burning with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might snap.
"Don't you ever apologize for what happened to you," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "None of that was your fault. Do you understand me?"
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
He stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal. "The fact that anyone could do that to you..." He stopped, raking a hand through his hair his eyes turning dark. "I swear to God, Lenora, if I ever find that bastard—"
"L..luca," I said softly, cutting him off.
He turned to me, his eyes still blazing.
"It's in the past," I said, my voice trembling. "I can't change it. I just... I needed you to know."
He crossed the room in three long strides, pulling me out of the chair and into his arms. His hold was firm but not crushing, his hand cradling the back of my head as I buried my face in his chest without a second thought.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm sorry you went through that. You didn't deserve any of it."
I clung to him, letting his warmth and strength seep into me. For the first time in years, I didn't feel so alone.
Later, when we'd both calmed down, he pulled back just enough to look at me. The rage in his eyes was still present.
"You're not broken," he said firmly, his hands framing my face. "Don't ever let anyone make you feel that way. You're stronger than you think, Lenora."
His words brought fresh tears to my eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. "You don't have to face this alone anymore," he said softly. "I'll be here for you. Always."
For the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could start to heal.