The night was thick with silence as I sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the door. I could feel it—he was coming. Luca.
I had been avoiding him all day, my mind trapped in a loop of doubt, and the weight of everything hanging over me. Matteo. Ryan. The email. The evidence. It felt like the walls were closing in, suffocating me from all sides.
And yet, when I heard the sharp knock at my door, my pulse raced.
I rose slowly, every step heavy with dread, knowing that this moment was inevitable. I had to face him. We had to talk. I had no choice.
When I opened the door, Luca stood there, his tall frame blocking the hallway light, eyes dark with anger and something else—something raw, like a barely controlled storm waiting to break.
"I need to talk to you," his voice was low, almost growling, but it wasn't the voice of a man who needed answers. It was the voice of someone who already had them.
I stepped aside to let him in, my heart hammering in my chest. The tension between us was suffocating, like electricity in the air, waiting for a spark.
Luca didn't wait for pleasantries. He walked straight into the living room, his gaze never leaving me, his movements sharp with purpose. I could feel it—the weight of his presence, the intensity of everything he was, and the undeniable pull between us. He was the storm, and I was the one caught in it.
The air inside my house was thick with tension, the kind that crackled like a live wire. My pulse hammered as he stood in the center of the room, facing me. He had been pacing since he arrived, his movements slow, controlled—too controlled. Now, he was still, eyes locked on me with an unreadable expression, but I could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"Sit," he commanded, his voice now cold, controlled. But there was a flicker in his eyes—an anger he was struggling to contain.
I crossed the room slowly, settling into the chair opposite him. I wanted to speak, to demand answers, but the words caught in my throat. There was something about the way he stood there, towering over me, that made my own doubts seem so small in comparison.
"Where the fuck is Matteo?" Luca's question came like a punch to the gut, direct and unforgiving. His eyes bore into mine, searching, demanding.
I swallowed, trying to keep my composure, but the flicker of uncertainty inside me refused to go away. "What do you mean? What are you asking me?" My voice was barely a whisper, but the underlying tension in it was undeniable.
Luca stepped closer, his hands planted on the back of the couch. His scent filled the space between us, dark and dangerous, but still intoxicating. "You know exactly what I mean, Bella. There's been a lot of shit going on, and I need you to tell me the truth. Where is he?"
My heart thudded in my chest, my mind racing. The images, the phone calls, the damn flash drive… it all came crashing down on me. Was my brother really involved in this mess? Or had Ryan set me up?
I shook my head, the uncertainty flooding my veins. "I don't know, Luca. I don't—"
"Don't lie to me." His voice was low but fierce, the words sharp like a blade. He moved even closer, the space between us closing until I could feel his heat against my skin. His gaze didn't waver, his eyes locked onto mine with a burning intensity that made it impossible to breathe.
I wanted to look away, to pull back, but I couldn't. The magnetic pull between us was undeniable.
"You know more than you're letting on," Luca said, his voice dark with accusation. "Don't make me drag it out of you."
The words were a threat, but there was something else there too. Something that made the air crackle with tension.
I stood up, my body trembling with a mix of anger, fear, and something else I couldn't identify. "I'm not hiding anything, Luca! But I don't know what's going on with Matteo. I'm just as lost as you are."
Luca's eyes narrowed, and in an instant, he was right in front of me, his hand grasping my wrist, pulling me closer. The strength in his grip was like a vice, but there was no pain, only the heat of his touch searing through me.
Luca moved then, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. His presence was suffocating, his heat curling around me like an invisible restraint. I should have backed away, but my body refused to move. His face was inches from mine now, and I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. His lips parted slightly, and I could taste the danger in the air. The tension between us was unbearable, like a storm about to break.
"You think I believe that?" he whispered, his voice rough and dangerous. His fingers tightened around my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse in a way that made my heart race even faster.
"I'm not lying," I breathed, but it came out almost like a plea.
Luca's gaze dropped to my lips, his breath shallow as he stood frozen in front of me. The space between us had evaporated, and every inch of my body screamed for him. But I couldn't—*I couldn't*—trust him, not with everything going on.
And yet, as I stood there, feeling the pull of his presence, something shifted inside me. The anger, the fear, all of it, it melted away. All I could think about was him. The way he made me feel. The way he ignited something deep inside me that I didn't understand.
Before I knew it, Luca's lips crashed down on mine.
The kiss was raw, intense, desperate, and everything I had been trying to avoid. His mouth moved against mine with a ferocity that stole my breath away, his tongue slipping past my lips, claiming me in a way I couldn't fight. His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer, until I could feel the heat of his body pressed against mine.
I should have pushed him away. I should have told him to stop. But I couldn't.
My hands found his chest, the hard muscles beneath his shirt, and I dug my nails into his skin, pulling him even closer. His groan sent a shockwave through me, and for a moment, I lost myself in the feeling of him, in the heat that burned between us.
He pulled away, just enough to speak, his voice a low growl. "I'm done playing games, Bella. Tell me the truth. Now."
I could feel the weight of his words, but I couldn't answer. Not now. Not when my body was screaming for him, when my mind was a tangled mess of confusion and desire.
Instead, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to me, desperate for more. This time, when our lips met, there was no hesitation, no thought. It was just need. Just hunger.
Luca's hands moved with purpose, tugging at the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made my whole body shudder.
I knew this was dangerous. I knew it was a mistake. But in that moment, I didn't care. All I wanted was him—this release, this connection that I couldn't fight any longer.
"Fuck, Bella," Luca muttered, his voice hoarse as his hands moved lower, tracing the curve of my body. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
I didn't have to answer. My body was already telling him everything he needed to know.
The rest of the night became a blur of urgency, of heat and passion that burned away everything else. We didn't speak much. We didn't need to. The tension between us had finally snapped, and the world outside faded away.
But as the early morning light began to creep through the blinds, I knew one thing for certain:
I was in deeper than I'd ever been before.