Page 61 of His Ruthless Claim

I don't respond, just end the call. My fingers trace the rim of my whiskey glass, the amber liquid untouched. Three weeks since she walked out. Twenty-one days of maintaining my distance while ensuring a rotating security detail shadows her every move.

The footage switches so I can see her through her apartment window. I shouldn't watch, but I can't stop myself. At least she does have the option to shut me out if she wanted to by closing the blinds. It's pathetic - this weakness she's created in me. I never needed to monitor anyone this closely before. Never felt this...hollow when someone left.

My phone buzzes with another update.

She ordered takeout again. Thai food this time.

Yes. I've resorted to getting every little detail about her like this.

I remember how she'd steal bites from my plate, her quick wit cutting through dinner conversation. The way she'd try to make me laugh, those amber eyes dancing with mischief. Now my kitchen feels too quiet, the house too empty.

"I did it to protect you," I mutter to the empty room, the words bitter on my tongue. But I know better. I orchestrated that attack because I wanted her here, under my control. Where I could watch her, touch her, keep her.

The security feed shows her settling onto her couch with her dinner. I should turn it off. Instead, I pour more whiskey and watch her curl up with a book. My hand clenches around the glass. This distance - this space she demanded - it's driving me fucking insane. But for the first time in my life, I'm respecting someone else's boundaries.

Even if it's killing me.

The door opens behind me and Maria's perfume drifts into my office. I don't turn around.

"You look like shit." She perches on the edge of my desk, her curls falling over one shoulder as she peers at the security feed. "This isn't healthy, Luca."

"I'm monitoring a security situation."

"You're stalking your girlfriend because you fucked up." Maria's warm brown eyes narrow. "Have you even tried talking to her?"

"She made her position clear." I switch off the monitor, unable to watch Skye anymore. "She needs space."

"Because you manipulated her instead of being honest." Maria's voice softens. "Just like Uncle Anthony did with Aunt Sofia."

My jaw clenches. "Don't."

"Your mother would want you to be happy." She reaches for my hand but I pull away. "You're so scared of losing control that you're pushing away the one person who makes you feel something."

"I'm not scared." The words taste like ash.

"Really?" Maria leans forward. "Then why orchestrate an attack instead of telling Skye you were worried about her safety? You told her she wasn't safe, not that you were worried. You never really even gave her an option. Why not admit you wanted her close because you care about her?"

"I don't-"

"Bullshit." She cuts me off. "I was there after Aunt Sofia died. I watched you shut down, build these walls. But Skye got through them, didn't she? And that terrifies you."

The whiskey burns as I drain the glass. "She's safer without me."

"Like your mom would've been safer without your dad?" Maria's words hit like a punch. "You're not him, Luca. And Skye isn't your mother. Stop punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

My hands shake as I set down the glass. Eight-year-old memories flood back - metal crushing metal, my mother's blood on the dashboard, her final breaths beside me. The helplessness. The rage.

"I couldn't save her." The admission rips from my throat. I've been trying to do everything I could to save Skye instead, and that backfired, too.

"You were a child." Maria's fingers brush my shoulder. "But you're not helpless anymore. And pushing Skye away won't protect either of you."

Maria's words echo in my head as I face the weekly family meeting. The usual faces fill my study - old guard captains who served under my father mixed with my own chosenmen. Tension radiates through the room, evident in their stiff postures and careful expressions.

I adjust my Rolex, the weight of my mother's legacy heavy on my wrist. "The Syracuse operation needs new oversight. Bas, put someone on it."

He stares at me for a minute. I've been overseeing the operation, not wanting anything to go wrong. But at this point, I need to step back. To let my men do their work and put some trust in someone.

I never really have before. And maybe Maria's right and I need to let go of the past a little.

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