Page 34 of His Ruthless Claim

"Not surprising." I try not to let it show that I hate the idea of her being targeted.

Mickey exchanges glances with Bas. "Want us to send a message?"

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended. Another crack in my carefully constructed facade. I never lose composure. Never show emotion. Yet here I am, betraying eight-year-old Luca's hard-learned lessons because some boutique owner with clever eyes and a sharper tongue has lodged herself in my thoughts.

"You sure?" Carmine leans forward. "It's not like you to let someone-"

"I said no." Ice coats each word. "Continue with the dock situation."

But even as they resume their reports, I catch myself checking the watch again. Calculating the minutes until she closes shop. Wondering what questions she's been asking about me.

This loss of control is unacceptable. Yet for the first time since watching my mother die, I find myself powerless to stop it.

My hand finds my watch again, thumb sliding over the worn silver face as I check the time. I'd rather be there with her than sitting through this. But there's so much for me to do, to fix that my father left behind.

If only I could think about anything but her.

Mickey's eyes track the movement. In fifteen years, he's never seen me fidget. "Boss, with respect... you've been different lately. This much attention on one boutique-"

"You questioning my decisions?" Ice fills my veins, spreading through my chest until even I can't feel anything. The temperature in the room drops as I rise, slow and deliberate.

"No, I just-" Mickey takes an instinctive step back, bumping into Carmine. Both men pale.

"Then explain why you're still talking." My voice comes out dead calm. The kind of calm that makes even hardened killers remember why Chicago's underworld whispers about the Don's emotionless son.

"Sorry, boss." Mickey's throat bobs. "Won't happen again."

I adjust my watch band, the familiar motion usually centering me. Instead, I see Skye's eyes dropping to it, the way she admired it that first day. The memory sends an unfamiliar jolt through my chest.

"We keep guards on the door like I said." I keep my tone flat despite the strange tension coiling inside me. "If people talk, I don't give a shit."

The men exchange looks that scream confusion and concern. I've never showed interest in protecting anyone outside the family. Never cared enough to notice.

I don't like it either.

I'm done with this, though. I stand, turning before anyone can even react. The afternoon sun is sinking and I know that she'll be alone soon. I can't even resist as I head for my car instead of my office.

I stride into Skye's boutique just as she's flipping the sign to "Closed." The bell chimes, announcing my presence. Her back stiffens for a heartbeat before she turns, those amber eyes lighting with recognition.

"Luca." She arches one perfect eyebrow, her lips curving into that sharp smile that's been haunting my thoughts. "I see you can't read as well as you can't listen."

Amusement trickles through me. No one has ever talked to me like that, and I love it when she does. "I think you forget that rules just don't apply to me."

Her eyes slowly peruse my frame, and I swear I see the same hunger in her gaze that I feel. I know that this attraction is not one sided. The obsession… Well, I don't think she feels anything remotely close to what I do.

Skye shrugs. "Well, I hate to disappoint, but we're closed."

I lean against the counter, watching as she counts the register. Her fingers move with practiced efficiency, sorting bills into neat stacks. "We both know I'm not here to shop."

"Do we?" That teasing lilt enters her voice. She glances up through dark lashes. "And here I thought you just couldn't get enough of my excellent customer service."

My jaw tightens at her playful tone. I should find it irritating. Instead, something unfamiliar stirs in my chest. "Let me walk you home."

"Mmm." She closes the register with a decisive click. "Worried about my safety? Or just looking for an excuse to spend more time with me?"

"Both." The honesty surprises even me. I never admit to wanting anything.

Skye's movements pause, just for a moment. Then that clever smile returns as she grabs her designer bag from behind the counter. "Well, it would be a very short walk. I live upstairs."

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