Chapter 86: I Don’t Marry Married Men

“Wouldn’t that make me arrogant?” she asked, arching a brow at him. Veronica had never looked at herself the way men looked at her. She had grown up behind flour-dusted counters and hot ovens.

“No,” Luca said, leaning back on one hand. “You hide your beauty deliberately under that stupid pizza T shirt and those tragic jeans.”

“Tragic?” she laughed, genuinely this time. “They are practical.”

“They are criminal,” he corrected smoothly. “It’s like you are trying so hard to dim yourself. When you should shine.”

She placed his plate in front of him. “Eat. And stop trying so damned hard to be romantic.”

“I’m not trying,” he muttered. “It’s involuntary around you.”

She rolled her eyes but sat beside him, folding her legs neatly beneath her on the plush rug. The LED lights cast a warm glow over her red dress, turning her skin honeyed and luminous. The vegetable garden behind them, stubbornly green and fragrant, felt like a rebellion against the violence that clung to his world. Basil leaves and rosemary swayed gently in the night breeze.

They ate.

She talked.

About the pizza parlour. The way customers had started drifting to newer chains. About how the oven needed repairs and how her father had left unpaid debts.

Luca didn’t interrupt. He watched the way her hands moved when she spoke, the way her eyes lit up despite exhaustion. She loved that shop. Not because it was profitable. But because it was theirs. Flour on her cheek. Childhood memories in the brick walls.

After they finished, he wiped his hands and reached into his pocket.

“Come here,” he said quietly, spreading his thighs slightly to make space between them.

She eyed him suspiciously. “What’s that?”

He held up a small velvet jewelry box.

“You are not about to propose, are you? Because I will have to remind you, I don’t marry married men.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of that, will I?” Luca laughed. It carried relief in it. Relief that she was here. Relief that she was breathing. Relief that he could still touch her.

“Nope,” Vee replied easily. “I’m a glorified side chick.” She shifted and settled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest.

Luca’s smile faded just slightly. He hated that word on her tongue. Hated the idea that she saw herself reduced to something disposable. Something temporary. Something shameful.

He opened the velvet box carefully.

The necklace caught the soft LED glow instantly, scattering violet and rose light. The diamond was bold. A purplish pink stone cut in a teardrop shape, suspended in delicate white gold.

Vee’s breath caught. “What’s this for?” she asked quietly.

Luca unclasped it, letting the chain slide through his fingers before lifting it behind her neck.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It’s not bribery. It’s more for your safety.”

The clasp clicked shut against her skin.

“Do not ever take this off,” he added. “There’s a tracking chip in it.”

She went still in his arms. “So you want to know where I am at all times?”

He rested his chin lightly near her shoulder. “I promise I will only try to locate you if you’re in danger.”

That was the truth.

Vee reached up, fingers brushing the pendant. It was cool against her collarbone. Heavy enough to remind her it was there. Beautiful enough to distract from the meaning behind it.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

He tightened his arms around her waist slightly. “When I saw Bastardi hold that gun to your head…I had only one prayer. And I am not a praying man.”

She listened.

“Let me get to her in time.”

His fingers traced slowly down her arms, then back up again.

“I felt fear I never felt before,” he admitted.

“You have to promise me to be more careful, Vee,” he continued, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “If that is the only gift you ever give me, I’ll take it. Be aware of your surroundings. Be alert. Always.”

She leaned back into him slightly, absorbing the weight of his fear.

She covered his hands with hers where they rested at her waist.

“Luca?” Vee whispered.

“Hmmm….” He answered, as his lips traced her shoulder in slow kisses. Each press of his mouth made her shiver, and a small sigh escaped her. His touch was fire and ice all at once.

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know what love is.” He continued to trail kisses along her back.

“Fair enough.” Vee’s laugh was soft, shaky but it carried a flicker of amusement.

His hands rose, cupping her breasts. She placed her hands over his, pushing lightly. But his hands stayed firm, immovable as stone.

“Why do you keep fighting me?”

“I’m not fighting you. I just want you to take it easy, you are still injured, remember?” She didn’t want him reckless, didn’t want him reopening his stitches while she held her tongue because she’d fallen for the impossible man who never knew how to love safely.

“I’ll pleasure you, Bambola, even if I was bleeding out on the street, with one leg severed.”

“Jesus Christ, you paint the most graphic detail.” Her voice snapped even as his fingers toyed with her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress. The sensation was electric, torturous in its intimacy, and she could feel her resolve slipping. He continued his slow, merciless ritual of kissing her back, nuzzling her neck, and grazing his lips over her ears, each touch igniting a storm behind her ribs.

“Pass me one ice cube in the bucket,” he instructed. Vee stretched slightly and handed him the ice.

Luca took it, rolling it between his fingers before pressing it to her heated skin. It was cruel, and yet intimate, a reminder of how he inhabited the world in extremes and pulled her in with him.

Vee was done fighting him. Every nerve, every piece of her resistance had been worn down by the relentless heat of his touch and the dangerous magnetism he radiated. With a soft, shuddering sigh, she finally let herself relax, sinking against him. Her head rested on the left side of his chest, right over the steady thrum of his heartbeat, she let herself just be in this chaotic intimacy.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep