Chapter 32 – Luca
LUCA
My phone buzzes. It’s Bruno, looking for an update. I let him know that thankfully, nobody’s dead or in need of his services, but that Tony might get asked a few questions about his stab wound.
Conscious of Sienna, who must be terrified, I keep the conversation short, then fire off a quick text message with some additional instructions when we hang up, knowing he’ll take care of it immediately.
But Mikhail's thirst for blood is going to have to wait, because right, now, there's only one person who matters.
I leave Mikhail in my office, guarded, feet bound, and with strict instructions not to move, or they’ll put a bullet in his other leg.
Our doctor is on his way, and Corso is looking after Carmella and Roman first, but he’ll make sure Mikhail doesn’t try anything else.
I don't trust the slippery Russian, not even close, but for now, he seems relatively content just to watch Kate on the screen and plot his revenge.
Sienna is still trembling when I scoop her into my arms, her face buried against my neck, and her fingers clutching my shirt. She weighs nothing at all, a fragile bundle of damp silk and freezing cold limbs as I hold her tightly to me.
"I've got you," I murmur against her hair as I carry her up the stairs, unable to bear the sight of blood on her skin and the vacant look in her eyes. "You're safe now. Let’s get you warm."
She doesn't respond, hasn’t said a word since we left the office. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a Sienna that’s vulnerable and brittle who I need to handle carefully. Shock could be setting in. I’ll get the doctor to check her over before we go anywhere.
Cursing when I see the red paw prints dotted across the floor, I glare at Sienna’s useless fucking cat as I rush her past. If he were a dog, he might have done more than snooze on our expensive sheets while Sienna was almost murdered down the hall.
“What good are you? We’re getting a dog. A big one,” I warn Vito. He lifts his head and blinks at me, seeming to understand that his days as king of the castle are numbered.
The bathroom is cold when we enter, so I grab her robe and drape it over her shoulders when I set her down on the edge of the tub. She stays there, motionless, staring at nothing while I turn on the shower and let the water heat.
Steam begins to fill the room. I strip off my jacket, holster, and shirt, and shove them in the corner. Then I crouch in front of her, taking her hands in mine.
"Sienna." I wait until she focuses on me. "I need to get you cleaned up. Can you stand?"
She nods, a tiny movement, and lets me help her to her feet. Her nightgown is ruined, the white silk stained dark with Tony's blood. Her flinch when I reach for her to peel it off breaks my heart.
Carefully, I lift it over her head, letting it fall to the floor, and she stands before me, naked and trembling, even shrouded in the warmth of the steam.
She has bruises starting to bloom on her shin and hip, and another on her arm that makes me want to march downstairs and revisit my decision to allow Mikhail to live.
When she straightens her arm, she winces, and I make a mental note to have the doctor check it out.
I shed the rest of my clothes quickly, kicking them to the side, and guide her into the shower, positioning her under the spray so the heat warms her small body as quickly as possible.
The water runs pink as it sluices over her skin, washing away the evidence of this night.
She stands with her head bowed, letting it happen, passive in a way that worries me.
Careful with each touch, I reach for the shower gel, lather my hands, and begin to wash her slowly. Her arms first, then her shoulders, her back, gentle and methodical, removing every trace of blood from her perfect skin.
She doesn't speak, doesn't move, just lets me care for her. The only positive sign I see is the fall of her shoulders and the deep breaths she takes the longer she stands in the warm space.
“Head back.” Pouring some shampoo into my palm, I massage her scalp, finally feeling a little of the tension inside me release when she lets out a small sigh before I grab the conditioner, applying it, and massaging it through her long lengths.
“Thorough,” she comments, resting her head back against me as I rinse it all out.
When I'm satisfied that she's clean, I give my skin a quick scrub, lifting my face to the water and scrubbing it, fighting back the waves of fear and rage that consume me every time the image of her rattling the door in terror pops into my mind.
I was so close to losing her when I only just got her back.
"Luca."
I turn, torn from my thoughts by her tortured tone.
She's staring at my back, fingertips trailing over the raised marks crisscrossing my back with one hand pressed over her heart. Tears are streaming down her cheeks now as she continues to trace each line carefully. When she kisses the rough skin, I freeze, scarcely believing she’s not horrified at the sight of them.
I forget about the scars sometimes, but normally, I’m careful not to let anyone see me shirtless. I don’t need the questions or the horrified looks.
“No tears, not for me, Sienna. Not after what happened to you tonight.” I catch one with my thumb as it spills down her cheek and dash it away.
Those marks have been part of me for so long, a reminder of the man I am now instead of the innocent young man I was before, but she's seeing them for the first time. The thick, ropy lines that travel my skin from shoulder to hip, layered over each other, ugly and bumpy. They’re the main reason I never use the pool.
"What..." She gasps. "What happened to you?"
I straighten slowly, turning to face her. "My father."
“No. How could he?” She shakes her head, refusing to accept it, even though she already knows he’s more than capable. "When?"
I hesitate, not wanting to overwhelm her after what she’s just been through.
"That night, when he found me waiting for you, bags packed." The words come out flat and matter-of-fact. "He had his suspicions about my plans to leave, even though he forbade it. He decided to teach me a lesson about loyalty and what happens when you put a woman before family."
A sob escapes her, raw and anguished. "This is because of me."
"No." I step into her personal space, unable to hold back from touching her anymore. "This is because of him. Because he couldn't stand to lose control of his son. None of this is your fault."
She's crying harder now, her whole body shaking with the power of it, with grief over the past that’s mingling with fear from tonight’s events.
I pull her against my chest and hold her, letting her fall apart in my arms as I whisper to her, trying to be her rock like I should have been before.
"Thank you," she whispers through stuttering breaths as she regains her composure, wiping her eyes dry.
"For what?"
"For coming for me.”
I help her out of the shower and wrap her in towels, drying her hair, her body, and treating her like a precious and fragile treasure, because she is.
The thought of what could have happened has rattled me in a way that nothing else ever has. Not since the last time I lost her.
“Amore mio, I will always come for you.”
Sienna gives a small shake of her head.
“You shouldn’t need to come for me. I don’t want to ever have to go through anything like that again.”
Wrapping her in my arms, I let her cling to me, resting my chin on the top of her head. “I will make sure of it.”
For a moment, I consider whether this is too much. If it’s selfish of me to pull her into this world, knowing that by being at my side, she will become a target. But it’s too late now, and I’m not a good enough man to let her go.
Kissing her deeply, I point her toward the bedroom, pulling fresh clothes from the dresser, but before I can help her, Sienna yanks the comforter that’s covered in bloody pawprints off the bed, then crawls up to sit with her back against the headboard, watching me. "Come here."
Unable to refuse her anything, I join her on the bed and wrap an arm around her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder, entwining our fingers together in my lap.
Really, I should be back downstairs, ensuring Corso has Mikhail under control and that my staff is okay, but I can’t make myself leave.
Sienna rests her hand on my chest, sliding it across my skin, and I twist to face her, dipping to kiss her once more. When she buries her fingers in my hair, deepening the kiss, she climbs over me and straddles my hips.
I smile but shake my head as her hands press against my shoulders, keeping my back pinned to the headboard when I attempt to lift her off.
"Sienna… you need rest, not…"
My protests die in my mouth when she untucks the towel, letting it fall away on either side, revealing her glorious body to me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my hands sliding over her hips and up her sides to cup her breasts, taking their full weight in my palm before sliding my thumbs over her dusky pink nipples.
Opening my mouth to argue that this is a bad idea, to suggest we save this for tomorrow, somehow, I find my lips wrapped around one stiff peak instead as my hand massages the other.
Sienna tips her head back, her damp hair hanging down her back as she sighs in pleasure. She rocks her hips, and I curse, unable to stop my hips rising up to rub against her.
“You almost…”
Sienna presses a finger to my lips to silence my protests, her mouth blazing a trail across my shoulder and up the side of my neck.
"Let me," she whispers against my skin, her lips brushing my ear and sending a heavenly shiver along the centre of my spine. "Please. I need this, Luca."
Rising up on her knees, she scoots forward, blue eyes staring into mine as she lines herself up above my rock-hard erection.
I stare, obsessed with the sight of me disappearing inside her as she lowers down slightly, just taking the head of my cock inside her slick channel.
“I considered leaving,” she admits. “I probably should have.”
Growling, I grab a handful of her ass, kneading the flesh, and fighting back the flash of anger that flares inside me at the mere thought.
“But even though I know I was lucky to survive tonight, I wouldn’t survive losing you. Not again.”
“You’re not leaving me,” I insist, possessiveness getting the better of me. A decent man would tell her to think about it. That she can go if she wants. But I haven’t been a decent man in years.
“No, Luca. Never.”
My heart swells, and so does my already aching cock.
“Fuck,” I mutter, any semblance of restraint vanishing with the raw emotion behind her words, combined with the feel of her warmth wrapping around me.
She moans, drawing me further in with each tiny pulse, up and down, of her hips.
My hands find her waist and lift her, then lower her, higher and lower each time, needing to set the pace, to regain some control.
“Yes,” Sienna moans, rolling her pelvis, grinding her clit against me, getting the friction that she needs, taking what she wants.
Slow and sensual, nothing like the frantic couplings we've shared before, she rides me, her hands braced against my chest as I lift her up and down.
I worship her, kissing across her collarbone, tongue tracing around her nipples, thumb stroking her clit now in time with each thrust.
“More,” I growl.
Closer. I need her closer to me.
Sitting up, I band one arm around her and pull her closer, her breasts rubbing against me, our bodies pressing together. After violence, after fear, the body craves connection, and right now, I crave her with every cell.
Lips forming a perfect O, she gasps as I drive up into her harder, faster and more frantic, lost to the all-consuming need to feel alive, to feel her come apart around me, to feel that togetherness that could have so easily been lost if I’d been just another minute later getting home.
“You’re mine, Sienna,” I whisper against her ear as she tenses in my arms, her whimpers becoming louder, and her pussy tightening around me. “I don’t care what I said before, I’m never letting you go.”
“Luca,” she cries out, her eyes wild and cheeks flushed as I drag my teeth over her nipple, driving up harder into her sweet pussy. I feel like a king when she yells my name, her walls fluttering around me as she falls apart.
I follow her over the edge, burying myself deep inside her, pulling her down against me as we both shudder through the aftershocks.
She collapses on top of me, her heart pounding against mine.
I hold her close, stroking her back while pressing kisses to her hair. The room is quiet except for our gradually slowing breaths and contented sighs.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
She blinks, still hazy, still sprawling over my body, her hair loose around her shoulders. "Luca, what did you mean?"
"This." I gesture vaguely at the bed, at her and at us, and pump my hips where I’m still inside her.
"It's not a marriage of convenience anymore.
I'm not sure it ever was." I cup her face, running my thumb across her cheekbone.
"The deal is off. This is real. You're mine, and I'm yours, and nothing is ever going to change that. "
She stares at me for a long moment.
Worried she’s still not following, I make myself a hundred percent clear. “You’re not leaving. Ever.”
Worried that might’ve been a bit much when she’s just had to fight off an assassin because of her association with me, I sigh with relief when a shy smile spreads across her face, small but genuine.
“You might get sick of me,” she ventures, sitting upright, clenching her insides around me.
I moan loudly, my head falling back to hit the wall behind it. “I won’t.”
Her small hands slide lower, over my abs, trailing across the sensitive skin of my hips and groin, apparently, ready for round two.
"I'm going to hold you to that," she warns. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”
Sighing happily, I tuck a strand of her long hair behind her ear, the gesture settling me as I soak in the sight of her happy smile. She leans forward to press a kiss to my lips.
"I'm counting on it."