The mansion was quieter than usual that evening, as though the very walls had retreated into silence to give them space. Aria lingered by the tall windows of Luca's private study, her fingertips brushing the heavy velvet curtains, her mind restless with the memory of his confession, the way he'd kissed her, and the undeniable tremor in his voice when he admitted he couldn't resist her. That moment had left an imprint on her soul, one that made it impossible to look at him the same way again.
She should have been furious. She should have hated how easily he bent her heart with words and gestures, how effortlessly he could make her knees weaken with a single glance. But hate didn't come. What came instead was something she had fought against since the night he dragged her into his world: longing.
She didn't hear him enter the study, but she felt him. Luca carried presence like a storm does, the air thickened, her heartbeat quickened, and suddenly she wasn't alone.
