Page 53 of His Ruthless Claim

25

LUCA

Igive Maria time to see the doctor, clean up, and rest. But when Luca steps into his office to talk to the guys, I can't help myself. I head down the hall to the guest room she's staying in.

The moment I see Maria, my heart breaks. Her curls are wild around her face, brown eyes haunted as she stares at nothing from her place on one of Luca's guest beds. She's still beautiful - all long limbs and curves - but there's something fragile in the way she holds herself.

"Maria?" I keep my voice soft. "I'm Skye."

Her gaze shifts to me, a hint of recognition crossing her features. "Luca's..." She trails off, uncertain how to label me.

"Something like that." I move closer. "I thought, if you were going to be here for a while, we could make this room more comfortable for you." It's what I would want, and I thought maybe doing something would be nice for both of us.

Within an hour, I have Bas and Mickey hauling in plush armchairs while Carmine brings up tea service. The men don't question my directions - they've gotten used to me over the past weeks. I arrange fresh flowers, stack books on the bedsidetable, and hang gauzy curtains that let in light while maintaining privacy.

"You don't have to do this." Maria's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I want to." I sit on the edge of her bed. "This room needed a woman's touch anyway. All these men have terrible taste in decor."

A ghost of a smile touches her lips.

I'm adjusting a throw blanket when familiar footsteps sound behind me. Luca fills the doorway, ice blue eyes taking in the transformed space. His presence commands attention, makes the air feel thicker.

"The boys said you've been giving orders." His tone reveals nothing, but I catch the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.

"Someone has to class up this place." I toss him a challenging look. "Your cousin deserves better than bachelor pad chic."

He moves closer, each step deliberate. His hand finds my waist, and he presses cool mint-flavored lips to my temple. The gesture is possessive, tender in a way that makes my pulse jump. When I glance at Maria, I catch something knowing in her expression.

"Thank you," she mouths silently.

I squeeze her hand, already planning what else she'll need. Luca pushes off the doorframe, crossing to sit beside Maria on the bed. His movements are measured, controlled, but there's something softer in the way he touches her shoulder. "You should rest."

"I'm tired of resting." Maria's voice cracks. "I close my eyes and I see-"

"I know." Luca's words are quiet, heavy with understanding. He tucks a wild curl behind her ear, the gesture so gentle it makes my chest ache. "But you're safe now. No one will touch you again."

The promise carries steel beneath its velvet surface. I've seen what Luca does to people who cross him, who hurt what's his. The tenderness he shows Maria only emphasizes the ruthlessness he's capable of.

"Stay with her?" Luca catches my eye as he stands. When I nod, he brushes past me, his hand skimming my lower back. The touch sends electricity down my spine.

Maria waits until his footsteps fade before meeting my gaze. "He's different with you. Sometimes I catch glimpses of that little boy again." She shakes her head. "After Aunt Sofia died, it was like watching a light go out. He just... stopped. Stopped laughing, stopped feeling. But when he looks at you..."

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond to the weight of her words. The Luca she describes feels like a ghost, a shadow of someone I'll never know.

Maria's voice grows stronger as we sort through a delivery of clothes I'd ordered for her. "He used to laugh all the time, you know." She runs her fingers over a silk blouse.

I pause in hanging dresses, turning back to look at her. She's lost in a memory.

"There was this time," Maria continues, "when we were maybe six? Seven? He convinced me to help him steal cookies from the kitchen. We got caught, of course, but instead of being mad, Aunt Sofia made us help her bake a fresh batch." Her eyes go distant with the memory. "Luca had flour all over his face, and he couldn't stop giggling."

Maria pulls a worn leather album from a nearby table, fingers tracing the edges with reverence. "I grabbed this before Bas showed me to my room." She swallows hard, and I don't ask from where. But I do wonder where all of Luca's childhood memories are stored. "I thought it would be nice to have some warm memories to look at."

The first photo shows a small boy with ice blue eyes and wild dark hair, beaming at the camera while holding up a trophy. His smile lights up his whole face, dimples I've never seen appearing in his cheeks.

"First place in his karate tournament." Maria's voice warms. "Aunt Sofia was so proud. She made this ridiculous banner and everything."

Page after page reveals a Luca I can't reconcile with the man I know. Here he is splashing in a pool, there he's dressed as Batman for Halloween. Each image shows that same brilliant smile, that pure joy I've never witnessed.

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