Page 29 of His Ruthless Claim

I grip the edge of the counter behind me, willing my voice to stay steady. "And what's that?"

"I don't take orders. That there's any part of this city that isn't my world." His ice-blue eyes pin me in place. "Including you."

The possessive declaration should infuriate me. Should make me want to prove him wrong. Instead, my pulse quickens as he leans closer, his cologne - something expensive and distinctly him - filling my senses.

"I'm not one of your soldiers, Luca." But the protest sounds weak even to my ears.

"No." His gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second - so quick I might have missed it if I wasn't hyper-focused on his every move. "You're something far more interesting."

The air between us crackles with tension. I should argue. Should tell him that my boutique and my life aren't his to claim. But the words die in my throat as I catch another micro-expression - a flash of something almost hungry in those usually empty eyes.

His thumb brushes my hand where it rests on the counter - the barest whisper of contact that feels like electricity. "You're part of my world now, Skye. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

I don't argue. Can't argue. Not when every cell in my body hums with awareness of him, even as my mind screams that this - whatever this is - can only end in disaster.

And then, he turns on his heel and leaves. My entire body aches with longing at the loss of him, and I stay standing there, staring after him for far too long.

I try to get back to work, but my eyes keep darting to the two men stationed across the street. They don't try to hide - Luca's soldiers never do. Their presence marks his territory as clearly as a branded signature.

I should feel caged. Trapped. Instead, something electric burns under my skin at the knowledge that I've caught the attention of such a dangerous man. The man who can silence a room without raising his voice. Who commands respect through carefully crafted emptiness rather than brute force.

Even long after he leaves, I can still feel the tension between us as he boxed me in. How I saw that flicker of emotion in his eyes. The way his control slipped, just for a heartbeat.

The women around me try to pull me into their gossip - thinly veiled attempts to gauge my connection to their prince. They don't understand. I'm not after his power or his name. I want to unravel the enigma of him. To learn why he maintains such rigid control, why he watches me like I'm a puzzle he needs to solve.

I'm playing with fire, and I know it. But there's something intoxicating about being the only person who makes him react, who draws genuine interest from those usually empty eyes. Not despite his dangerous reputation, but because of how naturally he wears it - like the perfectly tailored suits that can't quite hide the lethal grace beneath.

15

LUCA

Itrace my finger along the edge of my watch, studying Enzo across the dimly lit back room of Hell's Belles. Faint music from the main room of the bar vibrates through the walls.

"She's being well taken care of." He's leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed. I'm not sure why but I don't like it. "But if she goes missing, it'll be my head. I can't make any moves until you guarant-"

The door crashes open. Alfonso Figarello strides in, flanked by three Cappalletti soldiers. Their dark suits can't hide the bulges of shoulder holsters.

"What do we have here?" Alfonso's weathered face hardens as his gaze lands on Enzo.

Enzo's hand twitches toward his waistband. Amateur move. I remain perfectly still in my chair, only my thumb sliding across my grandfather's watch betraying any reaction to the charged atmosphere.

"Don Mantione's boy." Alfonso nods at me, voice clipped. "Interesting company you're keeping, Enzo."

"Just discussing my father's unfinished business." I keep my tone flat, emotionless. "He was negotiating Maria's release before his passing."

Enzo's shoulders relax a fraction. "Right. The Don approached me about mediating for the Cappallettis." His voice never betrays him, though. I can see why Enzo has been so important for so long. "Given my connections."

Alfonso's eyes narrow. The soldiers spread out, boxing Enzo in. The air crackles with potential violence.

"Connections." Alfonso spits the word. "Is that what we're calling betrayal these days?"

My gaze flicks between them, cataloging every micro-expression, every shift in stance. The only tell Enzo seems to have is the tattoos on his forearms rippling as his muscles tense.

"You've got it wrong." Enzo spreads his hands. "I'm just trying to help resolve this situation. For everyone's benefit."

I lean back, expressionless, watching the performance unfold. Whether Enzo's lying about helping with Maria doesn't matter. What matters is the growing divide between him and his family - a weakness I can exploit. It's so obvious now, and I know with a little more pushing, Alfonso will turn Enzo into the one thing he probably doesn't suspect - a traitor.

The corner of Alfonso's mouth twitches. "We'll discuss your helpful nature back at the house."

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