23. Luca
23
LUCA
I s she seriously walking away?
For a moment, I just sit there, stunned. Then reality crashes in. What the hell is she thinking? We’re miles from home, in the middle of nowhere. She could get hurt, or worse.
I start the car and pull up alongside her. “Mia,” I call out, trying to keep my voice level. “Get in the car. You’re being ridiculous.”
She doesn’t even look at me. “Go to hell, Luca. I’ll walk home.”
I feel my temper rising again. “Don’t be stupid. You have no idea where you are.”
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I’ll call a cab.”
“With what phone?” I point out, a hint of smugness in my voice.
She pauses for a moment, and I think I’ve won. But then she keeps walking, stumbling a bit on the gravel in her high heels.
“Mia, stop being childish,” I growl as I move at a snail’s pace. “Get in the car now.”
She whirls on me, her eyes blazing. “ I’m childish? You’re the one who orchestrated that whole scene at the restaurant just to get back at Dom. If anyone’s being childish, it’s you!”
“I did what needed to be done,” I retort. “Now get in the car before you hurt yourself.”
“I’d rather crawl home on my hands and knees than spend another minute in a car with you,” she spits.
That does it. I throw the car into park and jump out. Before Mia can react, I’ve scooped her up in my arms. She shrieks, pounding her fists against my chest.
“Put me down, you asshole!” she yells.
“Gladly,” I grunt, depositing her none too gently in the passenger seat. “Now stay put before I have to tie you down.”
Her eyes widen at that, a mix of fury and something else—something that makes my heart race—flashing in their depths. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses.
I lean in close, a mocking smile on my lips. “Try me, Princess.”
For a moment, I think she might actually slap me. But then she turns away, crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.
The drive home is silent, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I’m torn between anger at her stubbornness and a grudging admiration for her spirit.
And underneath it all, there’s a gnawing feeling in my gut that I can’t quite identify.
As we pull up to the house, I barely have time to put the car in park before Mia’s yanking the door open. She practically leaps out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make the whole car shake.
I watch her stalk toward the house, her back ramrod straight, her head held high. Even in her anger, there’s a grace to her movements that I can’t help but admire.
The sound of the front door slamming echoes in the quiet night, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sinking realization that I’ve royally fucked up.
I sit in the car for a long moment, trying to sort through the tumult of emotions coursing through me. Anger, frustration, and… regret?
Yes, regret. Because as satisfying as it was to rub my marriage to Mia in Dom’s face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve driven a wedge between me and my new wife.
A wedge that I’m surprisingly uncomfortable with.
Because the truth is, I feel a natural draw toward Mia. Her intelligence, her spirit, her beauty—they call to something in me that I thought I’d buried long ago.
And now, with my actions tonight, I might have pushed her away for good.
Ugh, dammit.
I climb out of the car and make my way into the house. It’s quiet, too quiet. I half expect to find Mia waiting to ambush me with more angry words.
But there’s no sign of her.
The triumph I felt earlier has faded, replaced by a hollow feeling in my chest. I replay the events of the night in my mind, trying to pinpoint where things went wrong.
The dinner itself had been… nice. More than nice, if I’m being honest with myself. Mia had surprised me with her knowledge of literature, her insightful comments. For a while, I’d almost forgotten why we were there. I’d just enjoyed her company.
But then her family arrived, and all my carefully laid plans had come rushing back. The need to make Dom suffer, to show him that I’d taken something precious from him, had overwhelmed everything else.
And now? Now I’m alone, running a hand over my face while my wife—my beautiful, fierce, intelligent wife—is probably crying in our room.
The thought makes me uncomfortable in a way I’m not used to.
When did things get so fucking complicated? This was supposed to be simple. Marry Mia, use her to get back at Dom, make the Sicuras pay for what they did to my family.
But Mia isn’t just a pawn. She’s a person—a fact she rather forcefully reminded me of tonight. A person with feelings, with a family she loves, with dreams and desires of her own.
A person whom, despite everything, I find myself caring for more than I should.
I grit my teeth, pushing down the frustration that’s building inside me. I desperately want a drink to quiet the voice in my head telling me I’ve made a terrible mistake. But I don’t. Instead, I climb the stairs to our bedroom.
Because the truth is, as much as I want to make the Sicuras pay, I don’t want to lose Mia in the process. The realization hits me like a physical blow.
When did she become more than just a means to an end?
I think back to our conversation at dinner, to the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her favorite books. I think about the fire in her eyes when she stood up to me, refusing to be cowed by my anger. I think about the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body next to mine in bed.
Ugh, fuck.
I open the door quietly, stepping into the bedroom. Mia is at the vanity, already dressed for bed in a sheer nightgown that rides up her thighs, exposing enough skin to make my blood heat instantly. She locks eyes with me through the mirror but turns away just as quickly, focusing on removing her earrings and wiping off her makeup.
“I don’t want you in here,” she says coldly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, crossing my arms. “Too bad. I told you, we share a bedroom. One argument isn’t going to change that.”
She scowls at my reflection, her movements slow and deliberate as she removes the last traces of her makeup. “I have no desire to sleep next to a jackass.”
I push off the door, walking toward her with slow, measured steps. “I don’t care.”
Mia slams her hands down on the vanity, standing up in a rush. Her eyes flash with anger, her body vibrating with tension. “You’re unbelievable, Luca. You think you can just waltz in here like nothing happened?”
I’m close now, so close I can see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her breaths are coming faster. “You think one fight is going to make me walk away from my own bed?”
She gets in my face, her jaw tight, eyes blazing. “I don’t want you here.”
Her words sting, but all I can think about is how fucking gorgeous she looks when she’s mad. She’s right in my space, her body inches from mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off her. Every nerve in my body is alive, thrumming with the tension between us. And suddenly, I can’t help myself.
I grab her face and kiss her, hard, with a hunger that I can’t hold back any longer. Mia gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she melts into me, her lips parting as a moan escapes her throat. My hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her body against mine as the kiss deepens.
The moment she responds, all the anger, all the frustration between us ignites into something else, something hotter, more dangerous. We’re both moaning, our mouths devouring each other, and I slide my hands up her thighs, under the sheer material of her nightgown. My fingers skim higher until I feel the lace of her panties, and I growl low in my throat.
“You’re wearing underwear,” I say against her lips, my voice rough with disapproval. “I thought I told you not to.”
Mia’s eyes flash again, but this time with defiance. “I don’t have to listen to you.”
I smirk, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “We’ll see about that.”
Before she can say anything else, I grab the back of her neck and kiss her again, my hands roaming under her nightgown, feeling the softness of her skin. I push the lace aside, teasing her, running my fingers along the edge of the panties before slipping underneath them. She gasps, her body arching into me, and I grin against her mouth.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I whisper, my fingers finding her wet and ready. She shudders, her hips moving instinctively toward my hand.
Her breath hitches, and I can feel her resolve weakening. “Luca…” she whispers, her voice shaky.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, my thumb brushing over her clit in a slow, torturous circle. “Say it, Mia. Tell me you don’t want me.”
But she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her hands grip my arms, her nails digging into my skin as she tilts her head back, her body trembling in my hold.
I know she’s mine, even if she doesn’t want to admit it yet.
I slip the lace of her panties down her legs, dropping them to the floor before pressing her against the vanity, my mouth claiming hers once more as my hands explore her body. Her nightgown is still on, but barely, the thin material doing nothing to hide the curves of her breasts, the smooth lines of her hips.
Mia moans into my mouth as I press her harder against the vanity, my hand sliding between her legs again, stroking her until she’s trembling with need. I love the way she responds to me, the way her body gives in even when her mind is fighting it.
“You’re mine, Mia,” I whisper against her ear, my voice low and possessive. “No matter how much you fight me, no matter how angry you get… you’re mine.”
She gasps as I lift her onto the vanity, spreading her legs and pulling her nightgown up over her hips. My mouth moves down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses as my hands grip her thighs, holding her in place.
Mia looks at me, her eyes half-lidded with lust, but there’s still fire in them, a challenge I can’t help but rise to.
She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t need to. Her body tells me everything.