Chapter 18
Sienna
After Giuseppe and Francesco were removed from the apartment, the silence felt deafening.
Angelo and the other guards had retreated to give us privacy, leaving Luca and me alone in the living room where, just minutes ago, I'd sentenced my own uncle to life imprisonment.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs, willing them to steady.
"Hey." Luca's voice was soft as he knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. "You did the right thing."
"Did I?" My voice cracked. "I just condemned my own blood to—"
"To mercy he didn't deserve." Luca's thumbs traced circles on my palms. "He tried to kill you, Sienna. Our child. You could have ordered his death and no one would have questioned it."
"Part of me wanted to." The admission tasted bitter. "Is that terrible?"
"It's human." He pulled me to my feet, into his arms. "You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling right now."
I buried my face against his chest, breathing in his scent—gunpowder and cologne and safety. My whole body was shaking now, adrenaline finally draining away.
"I need—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Need what? To forget? To prove we were alive? To feel something other than this hollowness?
"Tell me what you need," Luca murmured against my hair. "Anything."
I pulled back to look at him. His eyes were exhausted but fierce, protective, full of a love so raw it made my throat tight.
"You," I whispered. "I just need you."
Understanding flickered across his face. He cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Are you sure? After everything tonight—"
"I'm sure." I rose on my toes, pressing my lips to his. "I need to feel that we're real. That we survived this."
He kissed me back, gentle at first, then deeper. Desperate. His hands slid into my hair as mine fisted in his shirt.
"Bedroom," he murmured against my mouth.
I nodded, and he swept me into his arms, carrying me down the hallway.
He laid me gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. For a moment, we just looked at each other—survivors of a night that could have ended everything.
"I love you," I said, needing him to hear it again.
"I love you," he replied, voice rough with emotion. "More than I thought I could love anything."
Then I noticed the blood smeared on his jaw, the tactical gear still clinging to his frame, the exhaustion etched into every line of his body.
"Shower first," I said softly, sliding off the bed and taking his hand. "Let me take care of you."
Something vulnerable flickered in his expression. "Sienna—"
"Please." I tugged him toward the ensuite bathroom. "You've been taking care of everyone else all night. Let me do this."
He followed without protest.
The bathroom was all marble and chrome, the shower large enough for two. I turned on the water, letting it heat while I helped him out of his tactical vest, his shirt. My fingers traced the familiar planes of his chest, the scars that told stories he rarely shared.
"Come here," I whispered, pulling him under the spray.
The hot water cascaded over us, washing away the blood, the sweat, the remnants of the night's violence. I reached for the soap, lathering it between my hands before running them across his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the tension slowly leave his muscles.
He closed his eyes, head tilting back under the water. "I don't deserve this. Don't deserve you."
"Stop deciding what you deserve." I pressed a kiss to his collarbone, tasting water and skin. "I'm here because I choose to be. Because I love you."
His hands found my waist, pulling me closer. "Say it again."
"I love you, Luca Romano." My hands slid up to cup his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. "I love you and I choose you and I'm not going anywhere."
He kissed me then, slow and deep, water streaming over us both. His hands roamed my body—reverently, not urgently—as if memorizing every curve.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my lips. "So fucking beautiful and brave and mine."
"Yours," I agreed breathlessly.
The kiss deepened, grew more heated. His hands slid lower, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. I could feel his arousal, hard and insistent against my stomach.
"Bedroom," he growled, reaching behind me to turn off the water.
We barely dried off, water still dripping from our skin as he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The shadows danced across the walls, casting an eerie silhouette of the bed where Luca laid me down.
His eyes, a piercing blue even in the low light, burned with a hunger that mirrored my own. It was a hunger born of desperation, of longing, of the need to prove that we were still alive, still ours in a world that seemed determined to erase us.
His hands trembled as he traced the curve of my jaw, his calloused thumbs brushing away the remnants of my tears. The touch was gentle, as if he feared I might shatter under his gaze.
"You’re sure?" he asked again, his voice thick with need and something softer, something that made my heart ache.
It was a question he’d asked before, but this time, it felt different. This time, it wasn’t just about the act itself, but about the weight of everything we’d been through. The empire, the lies, the bloodshed—it all hung between us like a specter, waiting to tear us apart.
"I’ve never been more sure," I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
I reached up, fingers trembling as I tugged at the hem of his tactical shirt. The fabric was rough against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips when they brushed mine.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes searching mine as if seeking permission. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pulled the shirt over his head, revealing the lean, muscular frame I’d memorized in the dark of our wedding night.
His skin was warm under my fingertips as I traced the lines of his abs, the faint scar on his shoulder—a reminder of battles fought and won.
"You’re real," I murmured, more to myself than to him. It was a mantra I’d repeated in my head a thousand times, a desperate attempt to anchor myself to the truth of him. Because in a world of shadows and lies, Luca was my only constant.
He kissed me then, deep and demanding, his tongue tangling with mine as he pressed his body against mine.
The hardness of his chest against my breasts, the roughness of his stubble against my skin—it was all a stark reminder of his presence, his reality. I could feel the hard length of his cock through his pants, and a shiver of anticipation raced through me. I wanted him. Needed him.
His hands were everywhere—sliding down my still-damp sides, gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him. I arched into his touch, my breath coming in short gasps as his fingers traced patterns on my skin.
"Tell me what you want," he growled against my neck, his lips trailing down to my collarbone.
"You," I panted, my voice hoarse with need. "I want you. All of you."
His cock pressed hard and insistent against my stomach, his olive skin still warm from the shower. He was a man carved from marble and sin, a force of nature that I couldn't resist. I reached out, wrapping my hand around him, savoring the way he hissed at the contact.
"Fuck, Sienna," he groaned, his head falling back for a moment before he captured my lips again.
I spread my legs as he positioned himself between them, his body settling over mine with delicious weight.
His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of my wetness, my pussy glistening in the dim light.
"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, his voice rough with awe. He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin, before dipping his head lower.
His tongue was hot and insistent, lapping at my clit, teasing my entrance before plunging inside. I moaned, my hands tangling in his black hair as he ate me out with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
"Luca, please," I whimpered, my hips bucking against his mouth. "I need you inside me."
He groaned against my skin, pulling away reluctantly. His eyes were wild as he positioned himself at my entrance, his hands gripping my hips. "Ready?" he asked, his voice rough, commanding.
"Now," I demanded, pulling him down for a kiss.
He thrust into me in one smooth motion, filling me completely.
I gasped at the sensation, my nails digging into his back as he began to move.
Slow and deliberate at first, then harder, faster, his cock pounding into my pussy with a rhythm that had me teetering on the edge.
The room was filled with the sound of our panting, our moans, the slick wetness of our bodies moving together.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his breath hot against my ear. "So tight, so wet. You’re mine, Sienna. Always mine."
"Yours," I panted, meeting his thrusts with my own. "Always yours."
He shifted his angle, hitting a spot deep inside me that had me crying out, my orgasm building like a storm. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice a raw whisper. "Let me feel you fall apart around my cock."
I couldn’t hold back. My walls clenched around him as I shattered, my screams echoing through the room.
He followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic as he buried himself deep, his cum pulsing inside me in hot, relentless bursts.
We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, our hearts pounding in unison. Luca pressed a kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me.
"We’re real," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We’re still here."
I smiled, tracing the lines of his face in the darkness. "Together," I whispered, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
Afterwards, we lay tangled together, his hand resting protectively over my stomach.
"Tell me what happened tonight," I said quietly. "I need to know."
He told me—Giuseppe's capture, Ricci's death, choosing mercy for my uncle because losing him the same week as my father might break me. Francesco's redemption. The empire that survived because he'd been willing to risk it all.
I listened without judgment. This was our world. This was the man I'd chosen. And I chose him still.
"No regrets?" he asked.
I thought about it. The violence, the danger. But also the love, the protection, the loyalty.
"No regrets," I said. "As long as we face it together."
He pulled me closer. "Together."
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. Giuseppe's exile. My father's impending death. Power shifts.
But tonight, we had this. Love found in impossible circumstances. Hope for a future we'd both thought was impossible.
I fell asleep in Luca Romano's arms, wearing his mother's ring, carrying his child, finally at peace.
We'd survived the night.
And whatever came next, we'd face it together.