Page 40 of His Ruthless Claim

But with her...

My free hand slides into her sleek black waves, tilting her face up. The gold flecks in her eyes catch the light, hypnotizing me. Her full lips part, and I'm lost.

I capture her mouth with mine, harder than our first kiss. I've thought about how she tasted on my lips, as she came on my tongue, nonstop for two days, but the memory doesn't hold up. She tastes like expensive coffee and danger - a combination that shorts out my carefully wired brain.

Her fingers release mine to grip my shirt, pulling me closer. I back her against the wall, caging her with my body. She makes a small sound that rips through twenty years of emotional armor.

"Luca." My name on her lips sounds like salvation and damnation wrapped together.

I break the kiss, studying her face. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, perfect brown skin glistening as her skin heats. But there's no fear in those sharp eyes. Only challenge. Understanding.

The watch ticks against my wrist, grounding me. I press my forehead to hers, fighting for control while she dismantles it with each breath.

"I thought-" The words catch. I never admit weakness. Never show concern. But she waits, patient despite her nature. "When they said Alfonso was circling your store..."

Her hand comes up, fingers tracing the scar above my eyebrow. "I'm right here."

Three words shouldn't undo me. But they do.

Her touch grounds me even as memories of orchestrating that false threat weeks ago surface. I'd calculated every variable then - positioned my man perfectly, timed his approach, arranged the "rescue" to demonstrate the neighborhood's dangers. A clean operation that gave me exactly what I wanted: Skye, here, under my protection.

But this... Alfonso's presence changes everything. The Cappallettis don't make moves without purpose. They're testing me, yes, but they're also sending a message. They've identified my weakness.

I drag my thumb across Skye's bottom lip, watching her pupils dilate. "The boutique isn't safe anymore."

"Because of Alfonso?" She tilts her head, those amber eyes too perceptive. "Or because of you?"

Both. The answer hits like a physical blow. I orchestrated that first threat to manipulate her closer, convinced I could study this fascination until it faded. Instead, she's burrowed under my skin, making me feel things I've spent twenty years burying.

"You're thinking too loud." Her fingers trace down my chest, following the path of hidden scars beneath my shirt. "Talk to me."

I catch her wrist, but can't make myself push her away. "I don't talk."

"No." A smile plays at her lips. "You calculate. Analyze. Control." She rises on her toes, breath ghosting across my jaw. "But you can't control this, can you? You know I'm not giving up my store."

The truth of her words slices through me. I've built my empire on absolute control, on being three steps ahead of everyone else. But with Skye...

My grip tightens on her wrist. "You make me want things I shouldn't."

"Good." She presses closer, fearless despite knowing exactly what I am. "Maybe it's time you learned to want."

The watch ticks against my pulse point, a reminder of everything I lost by caring. Everything I could lose again. But as Skye's free hand slides into my hair, I realize it's already too late. She's not just a fascination to study or a puzzle to solve.

She's everything.

And that makes her infinitely more dangerous than any threat the Cappallettis could pose.

I studythe man strapped to the metal chair in my basement, blood already dripping from his split lip. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his terrified face. My footsteps echo as I circle him, each measured step increasing his fear.

I couldn't catch Alfonso. But I could catch his little friend and driver. I can send a message by taking down every guy they send near her.

"You were watching Ms. Calloway's boutique today." Not a question. A statement of fact.

He swallows hard. "Just following orders, Don Mantione."

"From whom?" My voice remains steady, cold. The same tone I use discussing business over espresso. I know the answer, but I like to make them admit it.

His eyes dart to Bas, then back to me. Sweat beads on his forehead. "I can't-"

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