3. Gilly
Gilly
Luca’s gaze pins me in place.
I swallow, pulse slamming against my ribs. I need to think. I need a way out.
“You’re not taking me anywhere,” I snap, even though we both know it’s a lie.
Luca’s lips curve into a slow, amused smirk, like he’s waiting for me to admit it to myself.
“You really think you have a choice?” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk, sharp as steel.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I move.
My fingers graze the edge of my desk—reaching for anything I can use—
But Luca is faster.
His hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me back before I can grab my phone.
I thrash, twist, claw at his grip. “Let me go, Luca!”
He doesn’t.
I kick at his shin, but he doesn’t even flinch.
I hate him for that.
His fingers tighten just enough to hold me firm, dragging me toward the door.
“No!” I dig my heels into the floor, every muscle in my body screaming to fight.
But it doesn’t matter.
Luca is a force of nature.
An unstoppable storm.
The door swings open behind me.
Claire’s voice cuts through the air.
“Gilly?”
My breath hitches.
My head snaps toward her, my heart pounding.
She sees.
She sees Luca’s grip on my wrist.
She sees my chest rising and falling too fast.
She knows something is wrong.
For a split second, I think she’ll help me.
For a split second, I think she’ll do something.
But then Luca speaks.
“She’s leaving early.”
His voice is calm, smooth, but absolute.
Final.
Unquestionable.
Claire hesitates, her eyes flickering between us.
She’s waiting for me to deny it.
To say something.
To ask for help.
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Not because I don’t want to.
But because Luca leans in, just enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.
“Say a word,” he murmurs, voice so low only I can hear. “And I promise you won’t like what happens next.”
A chill slithers down my spine.
Because I know he means it.
I snap my mouth shut, swallowing hard.
Claire frowns, but she looks away.
She won’t stop him.
I fight harder.
I thrash, twist, try to wrench my wrist free.
But Luca doesn’t even break stride.
By the time I realize it, we’re already at the main doors.
Sunlight spills through the glass, glinting off the sleek black car waiting at the curb.
I dig my heels in. One last time.
One last fight.
I will not let him take me.
The second we step into the cool, air-conditioned lobby, I make my move.
I jerk my wrist free and bolt.
Two steps.
That’s all I get before Luca grabs me from behind.
I gasp.
And then—
I hit the marble wall.
The impact steals my breath.
Cool marble presses against my spine, the shock rippling through me as Luca boxes me in.
His hand plants beside my head, palm flat against the wall.
His other hand—firm, unyielding—grips my waist.
Not hard enough to hurt.
Just enough to own.
“You can’t just take me like this,” I snarl, my chest rising and falling too fast.
Luca tilts his head, studying me, his green eyes glinting with something unreadable.
“You keep saying that.”
Mocking me.
Like he’s waiting for me to understand how pointless it is to fight.
I press my hands against his chest, shoving hard.
He doesn’t move.
I shove again.
Nothing.
His lips curve—not quite a smirk, but close.
“Are you done?” he murmurs, voice smooth, dangerous.
“No.” I push harder. “Get off me, Luca.”
His fingers tighten on my waist, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Then keep fighting,” he murmurs, voice like warm whiskey over ice. “I like it when you fight.”
My pulse slams against my ribs.
I hate the way my body reacts to him.
Hate the way he feels familiar—like a vice tightening around my ribs, like a hunger I swore I’d never feel again.
I glare up at him, my voice shaking with fury. “You don’t get to do this.”
Luca’s smirk fades.
Something shifts in his expression—his amusement curdling into something darker.
He leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.
“I already did.”
The words slink down my spine like a promise.
A threat.
My breath catches.
For a second—just a second—the world blurs, and all I feel is him.
His breath, warm and steady.
His fingers, firm and unforgiving.
His scent—leather, expensive cologne, danger.
And then—
He releases me.
Steps back.
Like I wasn’t just pressed between him and the wall, drowning in him.
Like I wasn’t just fighting for air.
Before I can recover, Luca’s hand wraps around my wrist again, and he starts walking.
Dragging me toward the exit like it’s already decided.
I thrash in his grip, but he doesn’t even slow.
The front doors slide open automatically as we step outside.
The heat slams into me instantly.
The midday Miami sun glints off the black SUV parked at the curb.
A sleek, predatory thing—just like its owner.
I dig my heels in one last time, twisting in his grasp.
“I’m not getting in that car.”
Luca yanks open the passenger door, his grip on me unyielding.
“You are.”
I shake my head, my breath ragged, desperate. “No. I—”
He cuts me off.
Doesn’t give me time to think, to resist, to breathe.
One second, I’m standing on the sidewalk.
The next—
I’m in the car.
The door slams shut before I can even reach for it.
I lunge for the handle.
Locked.
I slam my fist against the window.
“Luca, you son of a—”
The driver’s side door swings open.
Luca slides in, adjusting his cuffs like he didn’t just abduct me in broad daylight.
Like he didn’t just rip my world out from under me.
He grips the wheel, knuckles flexing.
The car hums to life.
I press my back against the seat, chest heaving.
My hands tremble in my lap.
The silence inside the car is thick. Suffocating.
I break it first.
“Where are you taking me?”
Luca doesn’t answer.
His grip on the wheel tightens.
His jaw—a hard, tense line.
I watch him, my mind racing.
This isn’t just about control.
This isn’t just about me.
This is about Rafa.
I swallow hard, lowering my voice.
“You don’t get to do this,” I whisper.
Luca’s response is razor-sharp.
“You don’t get to take my son from me.”
The words hit me like a bullet, sharp and unrelenting.
My son.
Luca says it like a fact. Like a claim. Like something I have no say in.
I press my back harder against the leather seat, my hands curling into fists in my lap. My mind races, panic clawing up my throat, but I force myself to stay still. To breathe. To think.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I say, my voice low, shaking with fury.
Luca’s knuckles flex against the wheel. “I already did.”
I shake my head, my nails biting into my palms. “He’s not yours.”
Luca’s head snaps toward me.
The air inside the car turns suffocating, thick with something raw, something dangerous.
I regret the words instantly.
Because the look in his eyes?
It’s lethal.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His fingers drum once against the leather steering wheel before he exhales, a slow, controlled breath.
Then—he pulls the car to the curb.
I blink, my breath hitching. I glance outside, realizing we’re here.
My apartment building looms in front of us, the red brick facade too familiar, too safe. But right now, it doesn’t feel like home.
Not with Luca beside me.
Not with the way he looks at me, his gaze dark and unyielding.
He kills the engine. The silence in the car is deafening.
I reach for the door handle before I can stop myself, still desperate, still fighting.
Locked.
Of course.
Luca chuckles, the sound low and humorless. “Where exactly were you planning to go?”
I grit my teeth. “Anywhere but here.”
His smirk fades. He leans toward me, his presence suffocating. “You think running from me will save you?”
I glare at him. “It did for three years.”
A mistake.
Because in a flash, something shifts in him—something deadly.
Luca doesn’t speak.
He just unlocks the doors.
A slow, deliberate click.
I hesitate, every nerve in my body screaming that it’s not that simple.
But then his voice comes, smooth and sharp.
“Get out, Gilly.”
I should stay in the car. I should slam my fists against the window and scream. I should do anything but what he wants.
But I don’t have a choice.
I push the door open and step out, my legs unsteady.
The Miami heat wraps around me instantly, but the warmth does nothing to thaw the ice in my veins.
I consider running.
Just for a second.
But Luca is already there, rounding the car in two long strides, his hand pressing against my lower back.
Possessive. Unyielding.
My stomach twists.
I lift my chin, forcing my voice to steady. “You can’t just barge into my home.”
Luca tilts his head. “You think I won’t walk through that door?”
I know he will.
I swallow hard, forcing my legs to move. My steps feel mechanical, my hands shaking as I dig my keys from my purse.
The metal is cool against my sweaty palm as I slide the key into the lock.
Luca stays close behind me, so close I feel his heat.
The door swings open.
And then—
A small voice.
“Mama?”
The sound slams into me, rooting me in place.
My breath catches. My body freezes.
Luca does, too.
I turn my head slowly, already knowing what I’ll see.
And there he is.
Rafa.
My baby.
Sitting on the floor, surrounded by his toys. His dark curls are a wild mess, his little hands gripping his stuffed tiger. He blinks up at me, eyes full of innocent curiosity.
Completely unaware of the storm standing in his home.
Luca doesn’t move.
Doesn’t breathe.
His entire world just shifted.
I see it in his face. The shock. The realization.
The devastation.
For the first time since stepping into my office, Luca is speechless.
I step forward instinctively, blocking his view of Rafa.
“Gilly.”
My name is barely a whisper.
I shake my head quickly, my pulse hammering. “Luca, you can’t—”
A soft voice from the couch interrupts me.
“Gilly? Is everything okay?”
Carmen.
My chest tightens. I’d nearly forgotten she was here.
She stands up slowly, her gaze flicking between me and Luca. She sees the tension in my body. The way my breathing is too fast. The way my hands shake.
I force myself to nod. “Yes. I just—” My voice wavers. “Can you take Rafa to his room for a minute?”
Carmen hesitates.
And then—
Luca speaks.
“No.”
The word slices through the air like a knife.
My stomach clenches.
Carmen freezes, eyes wide.
Luca steps past me.
Toward Rafa.
I reach for him instinctively, my fingers grasping at his sleeve, but he doesn’t stop.
Rafa watches him, his little head tilting in curiosity.
Luca lowers himself to one knee.
My throat closes.
I want to scream. To grab my son and run.
But I can’t move.
Rafa stares at Luca, big green eyes blinking.
And then—
Luca reaches out.
His hand trembles slightly as he gently strokes Rafa’s curls.
Rafa doesn’t flinch.
He just watches.
Luca exhales, his voice barely a breath.
“He’s mine.”
My stomach knots.
His gaze lifts to mine—dark, unyielding, dangerous.
“Just like you.”