Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The kitchen smelled of sugar and cocoa. Mia stood at the marble counter, hair in a messy bun, wisps damp at her temples. A bead of sweat slid down her neck as she smoothed the last of the chocolate frosting.
Maria, the house chef, hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, brows drawn; her eyes moved between Mia and the cake, as if deciding whether it was an offering or a weapon.
Mia set the knife down. Her pulse jumped. Luc hadn’t eaten chocolate cake in years—he didn’t trust anyone enough to make it for him. Maybe he’d decided never to be softened again.
That thought had kept her awake the night before. The man who’d kissed her with ruthless hunger wasn’t a single thing; he ruled by force, but she could sense something under the armor. She hated herself for noticing.
She wasn’t na?ve enough to think sugar would change him.
Still, she hoped the cake might show her intention: that, for as long as she was his, she meant to carve out something livable between them.
Her hands shook as she wiped frosting from her wrist. When she carried the cake to him, he would either see a gesture of peace—or a weakness to exploit.
Mia drew a breath, bracing herself. Her palms were slick against the platter as she carried the frosted cake down the hall. Her hair was still warm from the kitchen’s heat, pinned in a messy bun, the scent of cocoa clinging stubbornly to her skin.
She nearly faltered when she saw Rosina and Gabriella standing near the stairwell.
Their conversation stopped, both gazes—one cool and sharp, the other wide with bright astonishment—fixing on her and the cake balanced in her hands.
Heat flushed Mia’s cheeks, and she ducked her head as she passed.
She didn’t need their words; the look on their faces said enough.
What was a girl raised in a convent doing bringing offerings to a mafia don?
At Luc’s office door, she hesitated, the weight of the cake suddenly enormous. She lifted her hand and knocked, knuckles barely brushing the wood.
“Enter,” came the gruff command from within.
Her stomach swooped. She nudged the door open and froze.
There were four men inside, the air heavy with cigar smoke and violence. One knelt on the carpet, his shirt torn, blood streaking down his face. His breath came in ragged sobs as he begged for mercy. The others stood like wolves circling carrion, their gazes sharp, pitiless.
But it was Luc’s expression that almost sent Mia to her knees. Cold. Detached. As if the man bleeding before him was no more consequential than a broken glass.
The fragile illusion of normalcy she had been clinging to these past nights—of laughter at the beach, of stolen kisses, of warmth she had mistaken for safety—shattered in an instant.
“I…” Her voice cracked. She clutched the platter tighter, knuckles white. “I brought you… a cake.”
One of the men turned, his eyes lingering on her longer than they should have. The stare slid over her body, insolent and sharp, and Mia’s throat closed with revulsion.
Luc’s voice cut like a blade. “Do you wish to lose your eyes?”
The man flinched, snapping his gaze away. But Luc’s remorseless stare stayed locked on him, a silent threat that chilled Mia more than the words.
Her heart thundered. She cleared her throat, wishing she could vanish. “I’ll… come back later.”
“Stay,” Luc said, his voice low, unyielding.
Her breath hitched, the cake trembling in her hands.
Luc turned back to the men as though she were nothing more than another piece of furniture in the room. His words were calm, almost bored. “Cut off his right hand from the elbow. Let him live—he has children.”
The pleading man wailed. The others moved, carrying out the order, their attention fully on the task. One by one, they slipped toward the doorway, leaving the office and closing the door behind them.
Mia’s blood went cold, the platter of cake heavy as stone in her grip. She wanted to run, to scream, to shut her eyes. But she stayed, alone in the room with the devil she had chosen to tempt with sugar and sweetness.
Luc moved toward her with that animal grace that made her pulse hammer, each step slow and deliberate, predatory. She clutched the platter tighter, her breath shallow, until he stopped a mere inch from her. His presence filled her lungs, his heat and scent closing around her like a snare.
“You baked this?” His voice was smooth, but beneath it coiled a threat, like velvet stretched over steel.
“Yes,” she managed. Her throat was dry, but she forced the words out. “I did not allow anyone else to touch it. And I did not poison you.”
His mouth curved in the ghost of a smile, though his eyes gleamed sharp as cut glass. “Wouldn’t my death solve many things for you?” he drawled.
Her eyes widened, horror flashing through her. To answer, she scooped frosting with her finger and brought it to her lips, licking it clean in one defiant gesture.
The silence stretched. Then Luc followed her lead, dragging his own finger through the chocolate before lowering his head to take a bite of the cake itself.
Mia blinked, startled—and then a bubble of laughter broke from her throat, helpless and wild, as she noticed frosting smudged on his chin and the ridge of his nose.
Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward. The world held its breath as her tongue traced his chin, sweeping away the frosting.
Luc froze.
When his eyes found hers again, hunger blazed there—raw, startling, brilliant. It wasn’t just desire. It was possession, ruthless and absolute, staring at her as though he would devour her whole.
Luc shifted the cake easily in one hand and, with the other, captured her wrist. His grip was firm, unyielding, but not cruel. He tugged her toward the desk, and Mia followed, her heart hammering with a rhythm she couldn’t tame.
He set the cake aside, the sweet scent of chocolate filling the space, then lifted her onto the desk as if she weighed nothing. The edge bit into her thighs, her skirt sliding higher under the movement. His nearness filled every breath.
Her pulse skipped when he leaned closer, his hands braced on either side of her hips.
His body radiated heat, his gaze searing through her.
Mia’s mouth went dry. She should have pushed him away, should have said something sharp to cut through the tension.
Instead, she sat frozen, caught between dread and a deep, shivering pull she didn’t understand.
“Do you know what you do to me?” His voice was low, rough silk against her skin. His fingers trailed to her knee, pushing it slightly apart, just enough to make her gasp. He watched her closely, his hunger open and dangerous.
Mia’s breath shuddered, but she didn’t move away. Her body betrayed her, leaning into his shadow, her chest rising and falling too quickly. He bent closer, brushing his nose along her temple, inhaling her scent as though he had every right.
Her hands clenched in the fabric of her skirt, her voice barely a whisper. “You… you terrify me.”
“And yet,” he murmured, his lips grazing the corner of her mouth, “you don’t run.”
Her heart pounded. She lifted her chin on instinct, meeting his kiss when it came. Hard. Possessive. A claiming. She gasped, her fingers clutching his shoulders. He deepened it, devouring, tasting her like she was the only sweetness he’d ever let past his guard.
When his tongue swept into her mouth, her own answered—hesitant at first, then desperate, until the tension between them snapped into raw heat. Luc’s hand cupped the back of her neck, keeping her there, holding her as though he might never let go.
By the time he pulled back, Mia was trembling, her lips swollen, her breath ragged. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth as though to steady herself.
Luc’s gaze burned. He spread her skirt up over her waist.
Mia’s breath caught. “Luc…”
His gaze was molten steel as he hooked his fingers in her panties and tore them aside, the sound sharp in the silence. Mia fell back onto her elbows, staring up at him, heat climbing her cheeks.
“Look at you,” he drawled, dipping two fingers into the frosting. “I’ve never had pussy and chocolate before.”
Oh God. A hot, shivering sensation dropped low in Mia’s belly.
He held her gaze as he trailed the chocolate over her soft folds, the cool sweetness meeting the fever of her skin. She gasped, thighs trembling as the contrast sent shockwaves through her.
Then he dropped to his knees.
Mia’s world tilted when his mouth pressed against her core, hot tongue stroking, tasting, devouring. Her fingers curled tight on the edge of the desk as his tongue circled over and over, licking away the frosting, teasing deeper until she cried out.
“Luc…” His name broke from her lips on a strangled gasp.
He groaned low, the vibration making her shudder as he feasted on her.
He licked again, relentless, until her body arched against him.
Pleasure coiled tight, unbearable, every nerve ending alive as if fireworks exploded inside her.
Her cries filled the study as she shattered, trembling and shaking under the force of her orgasm.
When she collapsed back against the desk, breathless and spent, Luc rose from his knees slowly, towering over her where she sprawled on the desk, breathless and undone.
With deliberate slowness, he licked the last trace of chocolate from his fingers, gaze locked on her.
“You taste better than any sin,” he murmured darkly.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her hips, caging her in. “You screamed for me,” he murmured against her mouth, voice low and edged with satisfaction.
Mia’s lips parted, her chest still heaving.
Her cheeks burned crimson, but she didn’t look away.
He kissed her again, slower this time, deep and thorough, savoring her taste mixed with chocolate and the faint salt of her skin.
His tongue claimed hers until she was clinging to his shoulders, until her body arched into his as though she couldn’t help herself.
He traced his thumb over her damp lower lip, smirking darkly. “Sweetness suits you.” His hand slid lower, cupping her possessively as if marking her. “Two more nights. Then we’re married. Few men anticipate desire with such… precision.”
Oh God.
Her breath caught at the ruthless promise, shame and longing twisting together until she could hardly tell them apart. Still, she found her voice, hoarse but steady. “Keep your tongue and hands to yourself until we are married.”
Luc chuckled, a low sound vibrating against her skin. He bent close, lips brushing her ear. “Tomorrow is our engagement party. Allow me to take you shopping.”
Her breath hitched. “An engagement party?”
“Hmm.” His voice was dark, measured. “Your aunts and cousins will be there.”
Shock widened her eyes. “I… I haven’t seen them since I was a child. I was close to Gio once and then… they vanished.”
Luc’s gaze sharpened, unreadable. “Then you will see how they receive you as my future wife.”
A tangle of fear, disbelief, and nervous anticipation twisted in her chest. She smoothed trembling hands over her skirt, struggling for breath.
“I’ve never gone shopping before,” she whispered, fragile but honest.
Luc’s gaze softened just slightly, though his voice remained commanding. “Then tomorrow, little dove, you will.”
For the first time since this nightmare began, Mia felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—eagerness. Dangerous, foolish, perhaps na?ve—but impossible to extinguish.