29
The drive to Luca's mansion was quiet, yet every second felt alive with unspoken tension.
The city lights blurred as we passed them, and my chest tightened with each mile that took me farther from my small apartment.
I wasn't used to being taken care of like this—being swept away from my own sadness and into someone else's world.
Luca was calm as he drove, but the way his hands gripped the steering wheel told me there was more going on beneath the surface. He exuded control, yet his gaze softened every time he glanced at me, like I was the only thing tethering him to the moment.
"You're too quiet," he said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, smooth, but laced with concern. "What's on your mind?"
I hesitated, unsure if I could put it into words. "I'm not used to this," I admitted softly. "To someone... caring."
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought I might have said something wrong.
But then he spoke, his tone firm. "Get used to it, stellina," he said, the Italian word rolling off his tongue with ease.
"Because as long as I'm around, you'll never be alone again. Not in your pain, not in anything."
I stared at him, my throat tightening as his words wrapped around me like a cocoon. He didn't just say things lightly—everything he said was weighted, deliberate, and it made my heart ache in ways I wasn't prepared for.
When we arrived at his mansion, my breath hitched. It wasn't just a house—it was an estate. The grand building stood tall and commanding, its modern design softened by the glow of warm lights. Isolated from the chaotic city outside
Luca parked the car and came around to open my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt. His hand extended toward me, and I hesitated only briefly before taking it. His touch was warm, grounding.
"Welcome to my home," he said, his deep voice holding a note of pride.
The inside was just as breathtaking. High ceilings, marble floors, and art that seemed too exquisite to be in a private home. Yet, despite its grandeur, it felt lived in. Comfortable.
He guided me up the grand staircase with a hand lightly resting on the small of my back, a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
"I'll show you your room," he said.
But when we reached the guest room, I hesitated at the door, the weight of my nightmares already pressing down on me. "Luca," I began, my voice trembling. "I— I don't want to be alone tonight."
His expression softened instantly, the sharp edges of his features smoothing into something almost tender. "You don't have to be."
Without another word, he led me to his bedroom instead. The space was distinctly his—masculine and elegant, with dark tones and clean lines. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and it made my heart race.
He disappered into what I assumed was his walk in closet to return within mere seconds and handed me one of his shirts to sleep in, and I couldn't help but flush when I put it on. It was comically oversized, the hem brushing against my thighs.
"It's like a dress," I teased, twirling a little looking up at him as I emerged out from the bathroom, he analyzed me with his dark eyes, the expression of hunger that was there in his office back.
He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that made my cheeks heat. "You make it look better than I ever could," he said, his voice low and rough.
I blushed looking away.
"You rest up, I'll come fetch you after dinner is ready hm?"
I nodded.
He raised an eyebrow coming closer, "What would you like to eat?"
"Um.. you chose up," I said looking at him as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Luca nodded slowly, "It won't take much time."
Minutes after getting bored after I explored his room I decided to go look for Luca.
I carefully extricated myself and padded downstairs, the soft hum of activity drawing me toward the kitchen.
The sight that greeted me was unexpected. Luca stood at the stove, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins running like rivers beneath his skin. His hair was slightly tousled which made him look impossibly handsome.
"You're cooking?" I asked, my voice still thick with feeling tired from today.
He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What, you think I don't know my way around a kitchen?"
I moved closer, peering over his shoulder. "I just... didn't expect it."
He plated the pasta into two plates and added parmesan cheese on top, sliding it onto the counter before gesturing for me to sit. "Sit," he commanded softly. "Eat."
I obeyed, the aroma making my stomach growl. When I took a bite, I couldn't suppress the small moan of delight. "This is amazing," I said, my eyes wide.
He leaned against the counter, watching me with a satisfied expression. "Good. I need you to eat more. You're too thin, it's unhealthy."
I blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. "I'm fine."
"You're not," he countered, his tone brooking no argument. "And I'm going to make sure that changes."
The way he said it, like it was a promise, made my chest tighten.
After dinner, I found myself curled up on his expensive sofa, one of his oversized sweaters draped over me because the house felt chilly. Luca sat next to me, his laptop open, but his attention clearly split.
"You don't have to babysit me, you know," I said softly, glancing at him.
His dark eyes flicked to me, his brow arching. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips. "You haven't left my side at all."
He leaned back, closing the laptop and turning his full attention to me. "Maybe I just enjoy your company," he said, his voice dropping to that deep, velvety tone that always made my heart race.
"You're very convincing," I teased, my cheeks heating under his gaze.
He smirked, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't need to convince you of anything, stellina. You're mine."
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I found myself blushing under the intensity of his gaze. Trying to shift the focus, I asked the first thing that popped into my head.
"Luca, how old are you?"
He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "Thirty-three. Why?"
I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. "You're twelve years older than me!" I teased, laughing softly. "That's a whole pre-teen!"
His expression darkened, but not with anger—it was something more primal. He leaned closer, his hand sliding around my waist and pulling me into his lap effortlessly.
"You think twelve years makes a difference?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Lenora, I'll show you exactly how a man treats the woman he wants. No boy could ever make you feel the way I do."
My breath hitched remembering the way he had me on his desk earlier today, his lips brushed against my ear, his hands gripping my hips firmly. "Do you feel like I'm too old for you now, dolcezza?"
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "No."
"Good," he murmured, his lips trailing down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "Because you're mine, Lenora. Every inch of you belongs to me."
I melted into his touch, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as he claimed me in ways that left me breathless. But just as things began to heat up, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine.
"You drive me insane," he admitted, his voice raw. "But your already exhausted tonight."
My expression might have shown my displeasure as he smirked.
"Someone's disappointed."
"I..I'm not!" I protested looking away embarrassed.
He chuckled, the sound making me shiver and the his eyes darkened. "Tonight I don't want to tire you anymore-"he kissed my nose, "Soon you'll be screaming my name though."
I tried not to flush though failing leaning on to him.
Luca insisted on carrying me to the bedroom. I protested weakly, but it was no use. He said and I quote that I 'fit better' in his arms.
He placed me gently on the bed, his gaze softening as he looked down at me. "Stay here. I'll grab your tea."
I nodded, watching him disappear. When he returned, he set the mug on the bedside table and pulled a blanket over my legs.
"Do you always take care of people like this?" I asked, my voice quiet.
"Only you," he said without hesitation, his hand brushing against my cheek. "You're special, Lenora."