Page 37 of His Ruthless Claim

"You're staring again," I say one night, not looking up from my phone as I scroll through inventory reports.

"You're in my space." His voice rumbles from the doorway where he leans, dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. A glimpse of scarred skin peeks through.

"Your space?" I stretch deliberately across his side of the bed. "You're the one that put me in your bed."

His fingers brush over his watch - that unconscious tell I'm learning to read. "To keep you safe, Skye."

"Then you should want me even closer." I meet his gaze, challenging. "Why? Can't handle me?"

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I glimpse something crack in that perfect control. But then it's gone, sealed behind ice blue walls as he turns away.

"I can handle anything."

Of that, I have no doubt. But I pull back to my side and don't push him too much harder.

The next morning, I'm pouring coffee when voices drift in from the patio. Guys that I've come to realize are very close to Luca cluster around the outdoor table, heads bent in discussion. Through the glass doors, I catch fragments of their conversation.

"...never seen him like this before," Bas mutters, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Shut it," Mickey hisses, but his gaze darts to where Luca stands at his office window, phone pressed to his ear. "Boss doesn't need us talking. Thought he was going to shoot me the last time I pissed him off."

I pretend to be absorbed in my phone while straining to hear more. These men have known Luca for years - their careful movements around him speak of both loyalty and healthy fear.

"You weren't there last night," Carmine says, voice low. "When that supplier tried to back out? Usually, boss just..." He draws a finger across his throat. "But he actually negotiated. Gave the guy another chance."

"Because she was in the house," Ace cuts in. Unlike the others in their expensive suits, he's all tactical gear and visible weapons. "He's different when she's around. More..."

"Human," Bas finishes. "Like he's actually feeling something for once."

My coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips. The thought that I affect him that deeply sends a thrill down my spine, followed by an edge of fear. I've seen what Luca's capable of - the cold calculation behind those ice-blue eyes. The fact that I might crack that perfect control is both intoxicating and terrifying.

"Watch your fucking mouths." Mickey's warning carries a real threat. "Boss catches you analyzing him like this-"

"Then what?" Luca's voice cuts through their conversation like a blade.

I hadn't even heard him approach. His men snap to attention, faces carefully blank. But I notice how their eyes flick between us, studying, measuring.

Luca's presence fills the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled to expose corded forearms marked with old scars. The morning sun catches his watch - his mother's watch - as he adjusts it with precise movements.

The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken observations about how their boss has changed. About how I might be the cause.

A strangled soundpierces the darkness. I jolt awake, heart racing as my eyes adjust to find Luca thrashing beside me. His usual composed features are twisted in anguish, sweat gleaming on his chest where the sheets have tangled around his waist.

"No," he mutters. "Mom-"

My chest tightens. I reach out, fingertips hovering over his shoulder where scars mark his skin. His face is clear of scars, except for the one through his brow, but they litter his arms and torso. Shockingly, he's not covered in tattoos, making them stand out even more.

He jerks, and my heart aches. I know his mom passed away, and I can't imagine what he's dreaming of now. "Luca."

His hand shoots up just as I touch him, catching my wrist in a bruising grip before his eyes snap open. For the first time since I've known him, raw emotion bleeds through those ice-blue depths - fear, pain, something wild and uncontrolled.

"It's just me." I keep my voice soft, steady. "You're safe."

His grip loosens but doesn't release completely. He stares at me like he's never seen me before, chest heaving with ragged breaths. The perfectly styled hair is mussed, his usual mask shattered to reveal something achingly vulnerable beneath.

"I don't-" His voice cracks. He swallows hard, gaze dropping to where his thumb traces circles on my pulse point.

I shift closer, drawn by this glimpse behind his walls. "You don't have to explain."

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