32
Luca stood near the door, his tall frame leaning against the edge of the wall as he scrolled through his phone. I was still in my room, attempting to find something appropriate to wear for lunch.
Yes he said he wanted to take me out for lunch today.
The idea of going out with him felt strangely...nerve-wracking. Luca always carried himself with an aura of sophistication and power, and no matter what I wore, I always felt like I paled in comparison.
Settling on a light sundress—soft cream-colored fabric with delicate floral patterns—I gave myself a final glance in the mirror.
The dress fit snugly at the waist, flowing down to my knees, and the square neckline was modest but still showed enough to make me wonder if it was too much.
I paired it with my simple converse and let my hair fall naturally over my shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the room.
Luca looked up from his phone, and the way his dark eyes immediately swept over me made my breath catch. His gaze was slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory.
"You look..." he paused, his voice dipping lower, "beautiful."
I could feel my cheeks flush as I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you."
His lips curled into a smirk, but there was something more behind it—something hungry, almost predatory. "That dress is dangerous, Lenora."
I blinked at him, confused. "Dangerous?"
"Dangerous," he repeated, stepping closer. "It's tempting, and I'm not sure how I feel about every man out there getting the privilege of seeing you in it."
I felt my heart skip a beat. "It's just a dress."
"Not on you," he murmured, his eyes locking with mine.
Before I could respond, he reached for the door, opening it and gesturing for me to step out. "Let's go before I change my mind about leaving the house."
We ended up at an elegant Italian bistro tucked away in the heart of the city. The restaurant had an intimate vibe, with soft lighting and quiet conversations murmuring in the background. Luca, as always, attracted attention the moment we walked in.
His commanding presence seemed to draw every eye in the room, but I couldn't blame them. He looked sharp in his tailored black shirt and dark slacks, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. He exuded confidence, power, and something untouchable.
We were seated at a private table by the window. Luca ordered for both of us without asking—something that would usually irritate me, but with him, it felt natural.
As we waited for the food, I noticed a young waitress lingering nearby, her eyes frequently darting toward Luca. She was tall, blonde, and undeniably pretty, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy when she approached our table with a bright smile.
"Is there anything else I can get for you?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet as her gaze lingered on Luca.
"No," Luca replied curtly, not even sparing her a glance.
Her smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly. "If you need anything, just let me know. Anything at all."
I gripped the edge of the table, trying to ignore the twist of annoyance in my chest. Luca's focus remained entirely on me, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to her attempts.
Once she walked away, he raised an eyebrow at me. "You're pouting."
"I am not," I said, crossing my arms.
His lips twitched into a smirk. "Are you jealous, Lenora?"
Hell yes I was.
"No," I lied, though the heat rising in my cheeks betrayed me.
He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You're adorable when you're jealous."
"I'm not adorable," I muttered, looking away.
"You are," he said firmly, his voice dropping to a low, velvety tone. "And for the record, I don't care about anyone else. Only you."
I swallowed hard, my heart fluttering at his words.
The food was exquisite, but I could barely focus on it with Luca sitting across from me, his intense gaze never wavering. Every time I looked up, he was watching me, his expression a mix of desire and something softer—something almost tender.
When the meal was over, he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "Let's take a walk."
The streets were quiet as we strolled, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the city. I found myself relaxing as we walked side by side, our conversation flowing naturally.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face me.
"Lenora," he said, his voice serious.
I looked up at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yes?"
His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing softly against my skin. "You're everything I didn't know I needed."
My breath hitched as his words sank in.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You've cracked me open, Lenora. Made me feel things I thought I was incapable of."
I didn't know how to respond. The weight of his words left me speechless, but the intensity in his gaze made it clear that he meant every word.
As we continued walking, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. Luca Maroni, the man who terrified everyone around him, was looking at me like I was the center of his world.
Later, when we returned to his car, I felt a strange mix of emotions—nervousness, excitement, and something deeper that I couldn't quite name.
He opened the car door for me, his hand resting on my lower back as he guided me inside. Once he was seated beside me, the air in the car felt charged.
"Luca," I began, but he silenced me with a look.
His hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine as he lifted my hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles, his dark eyes never leaving mine.
"Patience," he murmured, as if he were reminding himself. "I need to be patient with you."
But the way his gaze lingered on me—the way his touch lingered—made it clear that patience was the last thing on his mind.