Page 60 of His Ruthless Claim

"And where's that?" Maria leans forward, those warm brown eyes searching my face. "Because from where I'm sitting, he wanted you safe. Was his method fucked up? Absolutely. But you're not some conquest to him, Skye."

"Safe?" I let out a harsh laugh. "He had someone tear into my store and scare me. Do you know what that feels like? To discover the person you're falling for engineered your fear?"

"I know exactly what it feels like to be afraid in this life." Maria's voice carries steel beneath its softness. "But I also know my cousin. He's calculating, yes. Cold, definitely. But he's never fixated on anyone the way he does with you."

I cross my arms, fighting the shiver that runs through me at her words. "What I need is honesty. Complete honesty - even when the truth is ugly. Even when it hurts. I can't..." My voice catches. "I can't build anything real on lies."

"Then tell him that." Maria stands, her curls catching the boutique's lighting like a halo. "You think Luca knows how to do this? How to care about someone without trying to control every variable? Talk to him."

"People don't change, Maria. Especially not men like him."

"Really?" She arches one perfect eyebrow. "Because the Luca I grew up with wouldn't lose sleep over someone's feelings. Wouldn't sit in bars staring at empty chairs. Wouldn't let his guard down enough to show any cracks in that perfect facade."She steps closer, her designer perfume mixing with the lingering coffee scent. "He's already changing, Skye. The question is, are you brave enough to show him how?"

I turn away, pretending to adjust a display of silk scarves. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."

After Maria leaves, I head to meet the girls for our standing lunch date at Rosario's. The small Italian bistro sits just far enough from the boutique that I can pretend Mickey and Bas aren't following in their black SUV.

Jazz, Kendra, and Mikayla already occupy our usual corner booth when I arrive. One look at my face and Kendra's sliding a glass of wine my way.

"Spill it," she demands, her dark eyes fierce with protectiveness. "What did that cold-hearted bastard do?"

I sink into the booth beside Mikayla, who squeezes my hand. Her sweet face is pinched with concern, so different from her usual sunny demeanor.

"He… arranged it." The words taste bitter. "The attack on my store. It was all orchestrated to get me to move in with him." I had told them what happened when I agreed to stay with Luca, and I see the moment they realize exactly what I'm talking about.

"That manipulative son of a bitch." Kendra's perfectly manicured nails drum against the table.

"I…told him to give me some space."

She nods. "Men like that don't change, honey. They just find new ways to control you."

Jazz stays quiet, those observant eyes studying me as she sips her water. Her curls are piled high today, gold hoops catching the light as she tilts her head.

"I get why you're upset," Mikayla says softly. "But maybe... maybe he thought it was the only way to keep you safe?"

"By terrorizing her?" Kendra scoffs. "Please. There are a thousand ways he could have protected her without lying."

"In his world, though..." Jazz finally speaks, her voice measured. "Everything's about control. Power moves. Maybe he doesn't know how to care about someone without trying to control all the variables."

"That doesn't make it right," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

"No, it doesn't." Jazz leans forward. "But you're not just angry about the manipulation, are you? You're angry because despite everything, you still feel something for him."

Kendra gives me a look. "Girl, you tell me what you need and we'll do it. You want me to throw a brick through his window, I will. You want a wine night to drown out the pain, I'm there."

And this is why I love my friends.

"I just..." I trace the rim of my wine glass. "I need him to be honest with me. Even when the truth is ugly."

And I'm not sure he can be.

29

LUCA

Istare at the screen, watching the grainy security feed of Skye locking up her boutique for the night. My men's daily reports sit untouched on my desk - I already know every detail of her movements. The familiar ache in my chest intensifies as she steps onto the sidewalk in those ridiculous heels she loves, her black hair catching the streetlight.

"We have eyes on her, boss." Ace's voice crackles through my phone.

---