4. Luca
Luca
My son.
The words are foreign. A concept I never allowed myself to consider. I’ve built a life where emotions are a weakness, where softness gets you killed.
He doesn’t know who I am.
Doesn’t know that his mother has been lying to him his whole life.
Doesn’t know that everything is about to change.
I’m on my feet, my gaze locked onto Gilly’s.
She’s shaking.
Not with fear.
With rage.
“You don’t get to say that,” she snaps, her voice trembling.
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. “I just did.”
Her nostrils flare. “You don’t get to walk in here and claim him like he’s—”
“Mine?” I cut her off smoothly, tilting my head. “Because he is, Gilly. We both know that.”
Her entire body vibrates, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll slap me. She wants to. I can see it in the way her fingers twitch, in the fire burning behind her dark eyes.
Instead, she turns her attention to Rafa who’s now in her arms, pressing a kiss against his forehead.
“Mama?” His small voice is hesitant, confused.
She forces a smile, but her hands still tremble. “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you go with Carmen for a little bit?”
Rafa hesitates, glancing between us, sensing the tension.
Carmen, who has been standing frozen in the corner, finally speaks. “Come on, Rafa. Let’s go find your trucks.”
Rafa’s tiny fingers curl around Gilly’s shirt for a brief second before he nods and lets Carmen take his hand.
As soon as they disappear down the hall, Gilly turns back to me, her shoulders squaring, fire in her gaze.
“If you think for one second I’m letting you take him—”
“Oh, I don’t think, sweetheart.” I step closer, watching her body tense. “I know.”
Her breath hitches.
I can see her mind racing, searching for an escape. But there isn’t one.
Not this time.
I let the words hang in the air between us, let the weight of them settle deep in her chest.
Then I drop the final blow.
“We’re getting married.”
Gilly’s whole body stiffens, her lips parting slightly before she lets out a sharp, humorless laugh.
“I’d rather die.”
I lean in, my breath warm against her ear, voice dark and smooth.
“That can be arranged.”
She shudders. Just slightly.
But I feel it.
And it makes me fucking grin.
She recovers fast, snapping her head back, her eyes sparking with fury.
“You’re insane,” she hisses.
I smirk. “And you’re out of options.”
Her chest rises and falls too quickly, panic creeping into the edges of her mask. She’s always been good at hiding fear, at pretending she’s in control. But not with me.
Never with me.
I step back, letting her breathe. Letting the weight of my words settle in.
She’s trying to think of a way out. I can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way her lips part, just barely. But she won’t find one.
I make sure of that.
I reach into my suit jacket, pull out a folded document, and toss it onto the kitchen counter between us. I prepared the document beforehand because I knew this is how events were going to unfold between Gilly and me.
The paper lands with a soft slap against the cold marble.
Gilly doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.
“Sign it.”
She stares at the document like it’s a live grenade.
Slowly, her hands clench into fists at her sides.
“You expect me to marry you,” she says, voice hollow, disbelieving.
“I don’t expect,” I correct smoothly. “I demand.”
She lets out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”
“You already said that.”
I lean back against the counter, watching her, enjoying the way her mind is unraveling, piece by piece.
She doesn’t pick up the contract.
She doesn’t even look at it.
Instead, she takes a slow, controlled step toward me, lifting her chin, her voice shaking with rage.
“You think you can control me?” she whispers.
I tilt my head. “I know I can.”
She swallows hard. “You can’t force me.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head slightly.
She always makes things harder than they need to be.
“Maybe not,” I murmur. “But I can take him.”
The second the words leave my lips, she stills.
Completely.
Like every muscle in her body locks up at once.
When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.
“You wouldn’t.”
I tilt my head, watching her. Letting her see the truth in my eyes.
“You think I won’t, Gilly?” My voice is soft, lethal. “You think I wouldn’t fight for what’s mine?”
A small sound escapes her lips. A tiny, broken thing.
I see it now.
The moment she realizes I’ve won.
Her body sways slightly, her breathing uneven. “You wouldn’t do that to him.”
“You mean I wouldn’t do that to you.” I lift a brow. “Because let’s be honest—you’re not worried about Rafa. You’re worried about yourself. About losing him. About losing control.”
Her throat bobs with a swallow. “He needs his mother.”
“And he needs his father.” My voice hardens. “Which is why you’re going to sign that contract.”
A sharp inhale.
She doesn’t want to.
She wants to fight, to claw, to run.
But she won’t.
Because she knows.
I will take him if she doesn’t.
She stands there, frozen, her pulse hammering against her throat, her fingers twitching at her sides.
For the first time since I walked back into her life, Gilly Bellanti looks completely, utterly helpless.
And I fucking love it.
I reach into my jacket pocket and take out a pen and place it on the counter.
She still frozen, staring at the contract, at the neat, printed words that will bind her to me.
A simple signature.
That’s all it takes.
A flick of her wrist, a whisper of ink, and her fate is sealed.
I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “It’s time to decide, Gilly.”
She inhales sharply, but it’s shaky—like she’s barely holding herself together. “You think you can force me into this?”
I smirk. “I already have.”
She flinches, and for a second—just a second—she looks so lost it almost twists something in my chest.
Almost.
But she did this.
She ran. She lied. She took my son.
And now, she’s learning what happens when you steal from me.
Gilly’s throat works as she swallows hard. “This isn’t real,” she whispers.
I hum, dragging my knuckles down the line of her jaw. She shivers but doesn’t pull away. “You tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Her breath hitches.
She snatches the pen from the counter and grips it so tightly her knuckles turn white.
One last hesitation. One final second of resistance before she gives in.
Then—
She bends over the counter and signs her name.
A whisper of ink. A single signature.
And she’s mine.
She shoves the pen away like it disgusts her, her voice shaking. “I hate you.”
I grin, slow and wicked.
“That’ll make this more fun.”
Her jaw clenches.
I fold the contract, tucking it into my jacket. “Good girl.”
Her whole body vibrates with rage.
I brush my thumb across her lower lip, watching the way her breath stutters. “Now, pack a bag.”
She stiffens. “What?”
“You’re coming with me.”
Her lips part, her eyes widening. “You never said—”
I lean in, my voice low, dark. “You belong to me now, Gilly. Did you think I’d leave you here?”
A sharp breath. Her hands clench at her sides.
“I won’t—”
“You will.”
Silence stretches between us, charged and suffocating.
She knows she’s lost.
Still, she shakes her head, a last-ditch attempt at defiance. “What about Rafa?”
“He comes with us.”
Her breath catches. “You can’t—”
“He’s my son, Gilly.” I drag my fingers along her jaw, tilting her chin up until there’s no escape from my gaze. “But you’re also mine. And you’re both coming home with me.”
A war rages in her expression—panic, fury, resignation.
I give her a moment. Let her feel it. Let her understand that there’s no other way.
Then—
She exhales, defeated.
I step back, smoothing my suit. “Pack your things.”
She doesn’t move.
So I lean in one last time, my breath warm against her ear.
“Don’t keep me waiting.”