Page 59 of His Ruthless Claim

Through the storefront windows, I catch Mickey shifting his weight by the entrance. His presence is both irritating and oddly comforting - a reminder that even after discovering Luca's manipulation, he's still ensuring my safety. Though now it feels more like being watched than protected.

I grab my tablet and pretend to check inventory numbers, but my eyes drift to the street where Bas leans against a black SUV. Both men maintain their positions without approaching - a calculated distance that speaks volumes about their instructions.Luca's giving me space, but not letting go of control entirely. Typical.

"Fucking psychopath," I whisper, though the words lack real venom. My fingers trace the edge of a suit jacket that reminds me of him. Everything reminds me of him lately - the mint gum I had to throw away because the taste brought back memories of his kisses, the way my bed feels too empty without his commanding presence.

I shove the jacket to the back of the rack. My carefully organized system from this morning is already chaos again, but I can't stop moving. If I stop, I'll have to think about how despite everything, some traitorous part of me misses the weight of his gaze, the possessive way his hands would settle on my hips, the false safety I felt in his arms.

The security cameras blink their red lights overhead - a constant reminder of how I discovered his deception. The footage had been crystal clear: his men, acting on his direct orders, staging the attack that drove me straight into his bed.

The bell above the door chimes and I look up to see Gianna Rossi strutting in, her designer heels worth more than most people's monthly rent. As the wife of one of Chicago's most prominent capos, she's a regular customer who always brings the latest gossip along with her platinum card.

"Darling," she air-kisses both my cheeks. "You wouldn't believe what I heard at lunch yesterday."

I force my hands to stay steady as I adjust a display of silk scarves. "Oh?"

"Your boy Luca put three men in the hospital." She runs perfectly manicured fingers over a rack of dresses. "They were late with a payment, nothing serious. Usually, he'd just send Bas to handle it. But he went himself." Her dark eyes gleam. "Broke the first guy's jaw with his bare hands."

My stomach twists. That's not Luca's style - he's always calculated, precise. He lets others handle the violence while he orchestrates from above.

"That's not all." Another customer, Maria Constantine, appears from behind a display. Her husband runs numbers for the Mantione family. "People are saying he doesn't look to be himself. I hear he looks wild, like he's finally snapped." Her knowing look burns into me.

I busy myself straightening already perfect hangers. "I'm sure it's just rumors."

"Oh honey," Gianna leans close, her expensive perfume clouding my senses. "There's only one thing that drives a man to the brink of madness. And his is five-seven with killer curves and the sharpest tongue in Chicago."

"He was at the house on Sunday. I think Bas dragged him there." Maria adds. "All the guys were talking business but Luca - Luca wasn't even listening. Just staring at nothing, that fancy watch of his ticking away while he spun an empty glass."

The image hits harder than I expect - Luca losing his iron grip on control, his perfect mask cracking. But I can't let myself care. Not after what he did.

"Ladies," I paste on my best retail smile. "Should we focus on finding you something fabulous to wear to next week's charity gala?"

But their words echo in my head, mixing with memories of ice blue eyes and cool mint kisses I'm trying desperately to forget.

The bell chimes again as Gianna and Maria Constantine head out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Well, as alone as I can be with Mickey and Bas maintaining their watchful posts outside.

Another chime, and I turn to see Maria - Luca's Maria - pushing through the door with two coffee cups and a determined expression that makes my stomach clench.

"Your guards let me through." She gives me a wink and hands me one of the cups, the scent of hazelnut warming the air between us. "And before you ask, no, he didn't send me."

I accept the coffee, studying her face. Maria's different from the other women in their world - there's a genuine warmth in those brown eyes, a kindness that seems at odds with the Mantione name she carries. I had hoped she wouldn't stop coming just because of him.

"How is he?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Maria settles onto one of the velvet loungers near the dressing rooms, her curls falling over one shoulder as she takes a slow sip. "Remember how I told you Luca and I practically grew up together?"

I nod, perching on the edge of a nearby display table.

"The day it happened - the day his mother died - I was supposed to be in that car too." Her voice drops lower. "Aunt Sofia was taking us for ice cream after school. But I got sick, threw up all over my desk right before the bell rang."

The coffee burns my tongue as I drink too quickly, needing something to ground me.

"They found them three hours later. The car was crushed against a tree, halfway down a ravine. When I heard..." Maria's fingers tighten around her cup. "I always thought a part of him died down there."

"Maybe it did," I whisper.

She shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. Uncle Tony - he changed after that. Started drinking, blamed Luca for surviving when Sofia didn't. Would beat him bloody some nights." Maria's eyes meet mine. "I'm not excusing what he did to you. The manipulation was wrong. But Luca - he doesn'tknow how to need someone without trying to control everything around them. Loss and love are tangled up in his head with powerlessness. But I think there's still a part of the old him deep down."

I set my coffee down, the ceramic clinking against the glass display case. "I don't know if I can forgive him, Maria. The manipulation, the lies..." My fingers trace patterns in the condensation on the cup. "He orchestrated this whole thing just to get me where he wanted me."

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