Chapter 15 LUCA #2
"I don't know how to be near you without wanting to fix everything I've broken." The confession slips into the empty corridor, faint and rough, meant for no ears, least of all the solid wood between us.
Then I turn and walk back to my own room, leaving the light burning behind me.
I don't bother turning on the lamp when I close my bedroom door. I toss my watch onto the nightstand, strip off my shirt, and stand by the dark glass overlooking the gardens. The estate is dead silent at three in the morning, the stone paths bathed in silver moonlight.
A soft click breaks the silence.
The brass latch turns slowly, and the heavy wood swings open. Nora slips through the door, closing it quietly behind her with both hands resting against the panel.
She wears an oversized gray cashmere sweater and dark leggings, her feet bare against the cold parquet floor. Her hair is pinned up loosely, strands falling around her neck. Her dark eyes fix on mine across the dim room, steady but shadowed by exhaustion.
"You were outside my room," she murmurs, her voice rough and quiet in the dark.
"I was," I answer without moving from the window.
She lets out a sharp breath and steps into the room, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Enzo is loud. Even through six inches of Italian oak, I could hear him mocking your posture."
"He has a big mouth."
She stops three paces away from me and lifts her chin. "He told you to knock. Why didn't you?"
A sudden tight ache hits my ribs, but my voice stays level. "Because you haven't looked at me in seven days without remembering the warehouse."
Nora looks down at her bare feet for a second, her hands gripping the sleeves of her sweater. "I saw you shoot an entire family in the head without blinking, Luca. I run a firm in London. I handle PR disasters, corporate fraud, and messy divorces. I don't deal with family massacres."
"I know."
She closes the distance between us until her chest nearly brushes mine. Her whisper barely carries across the dark. "And the worst part isn't what you did. It's that I watched you do it and I didn't run. I was sick, Luca. I was terrified. But I wasn't disgusted. And that scares the shit out of me."
I reach out, my fingers curling gently around her jaw. She doesn't pull away, but her pulse jumps under my thumb. "You think wanting a monster makes you broken."
"I think I've spent my entire life maintaining control," she admits, her breath trembling against my palm as she leans into the touch for a fleeting second before catching herself.
"I fix everything. I hold the wheel. But around you, I want to let go, and every instinct I have tells me that if I let you in, I won't get myself back. "
"Nora," I whisper, brushing my thumb over her lower lip.
She looks directly into my eyes with fierce, stubborn honesty. "I want you. I think about it every second I sit in that library. But there is a line in my head, Luca, and I don't know how to cross it without losing the person who was in London."
I don't drop her gaze. "You think you're looking at a monster because of what happened at the warehouse. But you have no idea how we got here, Nora."
She stays quiet, watching me with guarded eyes.
"I was eleven years old when the Bellinis raided our home," I tell her, my voice dropping to a low, quiet rasp.
"They tied me to a chair and made me watch as they butchered Adrian's parents right in front of him.
His mother, his father, his little sister, shot down like dogs just to protect me while Adrian was forced to watch every second of the slaughter.
He didn't scream. He just went cold, and he has stayed cold ever since. "
Her lips part slightly, her chest rising with a sharp intake of air.
"Enzo was eight," I continued, holding her tight against the truth.
"They locked him in a dark cellar for three weeks without food, burning his arms with lit cigars every time he cried for our mother.
Matteo was nine when they made him dig a shallow grave in the mud, telling him they were going to bury him alive next to his dead cousins.
And Sofia....Sofia was four years old, huddled in a closet while men in masks tore our house apart. "
A shudder runs through her frame, but she doesn't pull away from my touch.
I trace the line of her cheekbone and speak softly.
"We survived. True. But you don't survive something like that and grow up to be a normal man.
It carves the softness out of your bones.
What you saw in that warehouse wasn't cruelty for fun, Nora.
It was the only thing standing between my family and another shallow grave. "
My hand slides down to her shoulder without forcing her closer. "Then don't cross it tonight. Stay on your side of the line for as long as you need. But stop hiding from me in the daytime."
A faint, dry smirk touches the corner of her mouth, weary but genuine. "I wasn't hiding. I was executing a strategic retreat."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
She lets out a quiet chuckle, turning toward the door. She pauses with her hand on the brass handle, looking back over her shoulder one last time. "Goodnight, Luca."
"Goodnight, Nora."