The storm had died by morning, leaving the mansion wrapped in a fragile silence. The world smelled of wet earth and renewal, but inside Aria's chest, everything still churned with last night's kiss. She hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his hands on her, his lips bruising hers with desperation and need.
Now, as the first light cut across the room, she found herself pacing, restless, when the door creaked open. Luca filled the threshold, his suit freshly pressed, his presence as commanding as ever—yet something was different. His hair wasn't slicked back; it was still damp, unruly. His tie hung loose, like even the Don had been too unsettled to armor himself fully.
"Aria." His voice was rough.
She folded her arms, trying to cage her racing heart. "If you came to pretend last night didn't happen, don't bother."
His mouth curved—not a smile, but the ghost of one. "Last night changed everything. We can't go back."
