Aurora De Luca.
The name sat between them like a bomb waiting to detonate. The folder still lay open in her lap, filled with images and documents that didn't belong to her—but somehow did. Pictures of a little girl she recognized. Handwritten notes. A blood-stained birth certificate with a last name she'd never seen before.
De Luca.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
"That's not—" she choked. "That can't be my name. That can't be my family."
Rafael leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching her like he was waiting for something to snap.
"Your mother went into hiding the night your father was murdered," he said calmly. "She burned every connection to the De Luca name. Changed your records. Took you somewhere no one would look."
Aurora's lips trembled. "You're lying."
"I don't lie, carina." His voice was like gravel soaked in silk. "You were born into blood. You just didn't know it."
Tears stung her eyes, but rage burned hotter. "So what? You bought me because of my name? You knew all along?"
He didn't flinch. "I bought you because I couldn't risk anyone else getting to you first."
Aurora stood, naked and shaking. "You planned this? Everything? All of this—just some sick revenge plot?"
"No," he said sharply, rising to meet her. "At first, maybe. But it stopped being about revenge the second I touched you."
His hand came up, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. She slapped it away.
"Don't," she snapped, eyes blazing. "You don't get to pretend this is love. You bought me. You lied to me. You used me."
His nostrils flared. "I didn't lie."
"Then what do you call this?"
He didn't answer with words.
He grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the wall, his mouth crashing onto hers in a kiss that tasted like fire and fury. She fought it. Fought him. But when his tongue slid past her lips and his hands gripped her thighs, lifting her effortlessly into the air, she gasped—and melted.
Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He carried her to the bed, laying her down like she was something sacred and ruined all at once.
"You think this is power?" he growled, lining himself up between her legs. "This isn't power, Aurora. This is you. Doing this to me. Making me lose control."
She opened her mouth to curse him—but moaned instead when he thrust into her, hard and fast, splitting her open in one brutal stroke.
"Fuck—Rafael—"
He didn't slow. His hands pinned hers above her head, his hips slamming into her again and again as her cries filled the room. She bit his shoulder, nails digging into his arms, legs locking tighter around him with each thrust.
"I hate you," she gasped.
"I know." He slammed into her harder. "Hate me louder."
She broke apart under him, body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. He followed seconds later, cursing into her neck as he spilled inside her, burying himself to the hilt with a growl that sounded like it had been building for years.
They lay there, shaking, panting, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers neither of them had.
And then he whispered the one thing she didn't expect.
"I didn't just buy you," Rafael said hoarsely. "I saved you."
She turned her head to him, eyes glassy. "From what?"
His jaw clenched. "From the man who murdered your father."
Her breath hitched.
"He knows you're alive now," Rafael said. "He's coming."