Chapter 23
By the time they returned to his penthouse, Ava had caught her breath.
Ava’s exhaustion wasn’t just from the situation; he knew the residual adrenaline added to it, and Luca could feel it vibrating in the air around her.
The fact that she was still shaking, even though the immediate danger had passed, hit him like a wave.
As much as he could see the spark in her eyes, the rage in her body language, Luca couldn’t help but notice the beauty of it all.
His woman, utterly furious because he had almost been killed—and her fury was all for him.
It was like a fire that burned, unstoppable and pure, and as much as it irritated him, part of him basked in the warmth of it.
“Are you okay?” Luca asked softly as he carried her into the elevator. Her silence had weighed heavily on him during the drive. She’d stopped trembling, but there was something colder in her now, something harder that worried him more than he cared to admit.
Ava nodded, but before he could react, she pulled away from him, moving to the far side of the elevator, her back straight, her posture rigid. The guards in front didn’t look at them but Luca could feel their awareness of the situation, no doubt listening intently to every word.
The elevator doors opened, and the guards stepped aside to leave them alone. Luca went first to the bar, grabbing two glasses and reaching for the scotch. He needed something to steady his nerves. He expected her to sit down, maybe collect herself. He wasn’t expecting the explosion that came next.
“How dare you!” Ava’s voice cracked with fury as she stepped toward him, and turned with enough anger blazing in her eyes to startle him.
Stunned, Luca stared at her, reeling from the force of her outrage. “Excuse me?”
“You put yourself out there as bait!” she spat, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “You purposely set yourself up, didn’t you?”
This was true. He had made the decision to make himself the target in order to draw out Tanaka.
The fury in her eyes hit him with a force he didn’t expect.
He had expected anger, yes, but not this level of visceral rage.
This wasn’t just about him being in danger; this was about her caring—about her caring enough to feel this strongly.
“Ava, you’re in shock. Why don’t you have–” He tried to deflect, but she cut him off.
“Answer me!” she demanded again, poking his chest with each word. “You put yourself in danger! You put yourself out there as bait because you couldn’t find the man!”
Luca’s mind raced. How had she figured that out in the half hour it had taken to drive back?
Ava wasn’t one to miss details, but this was impressive.
A rush of pride surged through him, and despite the anger rolling off her in waves, he couldn’t suppress the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She gets it.
But he couldn’t smile. Not yet.
“Ava, I know you’re upset,” Luca began, his voice low, trying to calm her.
“Upset?” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air as she paced.
Her hair danced with her movement, a stark contrast to the fury in her eyes.
“I don’t even know what to say! I’m not upset, Luca.
I’m furious!” She glanced at the two glasses of scotch on the table, and with one swift motion, grabbed one and downed it in one swallow.
She hissed as it burned down her throat and handed him the empty glass without looking at him.
She wasn’t done yet, though. She grabbed the second glass, drained it as well, and set it down, still trembling.
Luca stared, speechless for a moment, as Ava’s anger radiated from her. He wanted to step in, to hold her, but he knew better than to interrupt. She was fighting for him in a way that he hadn’t expected. She wasn’t just upset; she was invested—more than he had ever dared hope.
“Here’s what I’ve figured out over the past few hours,” she started again, more quietly.
It was a controlled fury now, one that demanded his full attention.
“You went to my house to draw him out, or maybe just to check on me. But then you let yourself captured, Luca, so that you could get a lead on that vile man.” She resumed pacing, the tension in her body unmistakable, before she paused and turned back to him, locking eyes with him. “You did that to yourself.”
Luca took a slow breath, carefully pouring himself another glass of scotch.
He moved to sit on the couch without taking his eyes from her.
Ava was working through everything in real time, piecing it together like a puzzle.
And despite the rush of anger that still burned within her, Luca couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.
She had a sharp mind, sharper than he’d realized, and she had the strength to confront him with it.
“I’m not done,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I trusted you, Luca. I trusted you to be smart. I didn’t know you’d do something like that. But now…” Her voice trailed off, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “Now, I don’t know what to think.”
Luca’s gaze softened as he watched her pace the length of his office, fury snapping in the air like static before a storm. Tonight had cost her.
His woman. His fiancée.
She wasn’t just angry.
She was terrified.
Terrified for him. For what he was willing to risk. For the enemies who would happily spill blood to reach him.
And that realization cut deeper than her accusations ever could.
But the worst part?
She was right.
She was always right.
As she turned sharply and paced back the other direction, he felt the past year rearrange itself in his mind.
He had thought she’d been rejecting him.
He had thought she enjoyed watching him chase.
He had thought he was slowly losing ground to a woman who refused to be impressed by the Don of Las Vegas.
Now he saw it clearly.
They hadn’t been clashing.
They had been dating.
Just not the normal way.
Not with candlelight and reservations.
With leverage and arguments.
With strategy and public sparring.
With eyes locking across crowded ballrooms.
At the ribbon-cutting ceremony for his newest development, she’d walked the construction site in red heels, entirely out of place among the dust and steel. She’d circled the perimeter first, assessing the build, then glanced at him—once, deliberately—until he crossed the distance between them.
She’d smiled politely, introduced herself as if he didn’t already know exactly who she was, then excused herself before he could press further.
He’d stood there, stunned.
At the winter trade expo, he’d congratulated her on landing a notoriously evasive client—one his own subsidiary had been quietly courting. Her dark eyes had sparkled with triumph. She’d thanked him graciously.
Then she’d walked away.
Always walking away.
When she’d sat on the small business discussion panel, arguing for differentiated tax structures between independent suppliers and large casino conglomerates, she hadn’t glanced at her notes.
She’d stared directly at him.
Daring him.
When he’d challenged her position, the room had gone silent. The two of them had gone back and forth—controlled, articulate, relentless—while investors and city officials watched like they were witnessing a prizefight.
That hadn’t been policy debate.
That had been foreplay.
Dating without the date.
Push.
Counter.
Retreat.
Advance.
At the cocktail reception for investors, he’d cornered her near the balcony doors and asked her to dinner.
“I don’t mix business with predators,” she’d replied sweetly.
His laughter had followed her out the door.
And he’d been hooked.
He had walked away from every encounter irritated and intrigued, convinced he was the one circling. The Don of Las Vegas, patiently stalking a woman who ran a modest but rising fashion house out of a renovated warehouse.
He’d told himself that she amused him.
She was like a hobby.
A passing fascination.
The Don and the shop owner, sparring in public rooms full of witnesses, both pretending it was strictly professional.
He had believed he was losing because she wouldn’t yield.
Now he understood.
She hadn’t yielded because she was measuring him.
Testing his control.
Testing his temper.
Testing whether he would try to crush her ambition—or respect it.
Their courtship had been aberrant. Strategic. Territorial.
Two predators circling, not to destroy—but to determine compatibility.
And then she had come to him for help.
Not to a lawyer.
Not to a banker.
Not to the police.
To him.
The most dangerous man in Nevada.
The moment she’d stepped into his office and shut the door behind her, the entire past year shifted.
Those weren’t scattered flirtations.
They were reconnaissance.
Mutual reconnaissance.
She had been deciding whether to trust him.
And tonight, pacing his penthouse in fury because he’d frightened her—
She’d revealed the answer.
She cared.
The realization settled into him with a steadiness that calmed the edge of his temper.
She was furious because she loved him.
Because he mattered.
Because losing him would break her.
His jaw tightened.
He had bungled their first time together earlier tonight. He had misread her hurt feelings. And then, he’d tried to protect her by keeping everything from her.
But he would not miscalculate again.
He would protect her without pushing her away.
He would stand beside her without diminishing her.
He would make certain she never felt that terror again.
That was a promise.
And Luca Bernardi did not break promises.
“Come here,” he said softly, his voice low and steady despite the turmoil churning inside of him. He reached out to her with both hands and waited.