Page 24 of Tower of Temptations

"Always do, boss. Just with style."

The tunnel wasnarrow and dark, lit only by strips along the floor. Above us, more gunfire erupted. Each blast made me flinch. Without warning, Luca's warm hand found mine in thedarkness, his grip firm but gentle. The strange comfort of his touch caught me off guard.

"Stay close," he murmured, his voice low and near my ear. The tunnel forced us closer, and I was suddenly very aware of him—the warmth of his body behind mine, the strength in his hand holding mine, the way his breath stirred my hair. Even in crisis, something about his presence was... distracting in the best possible way.

We emerged into an underground garage I hadn't known existed. A sleek black car waited in the shadows.

"In you go," he said, opening the passenger door while scanning the garage for threats. "Fair warning though: Giuliano usually makes me ride in the back. Says it's better for his blood pressure."

I quickly discovered why Giuliano preferred Luca in the back seat. The car shot through narrow alleys and side streets I'd never seen, taking turns that seemed to defy physics. I gripped the door handle, torn between terror and exhilaration.

"Try not to look at the road," he said, voice steady as he took another impossible corner. "And maybe don't tell Giuliano about this part."

"What?" I twisted to look behind us, catching glimpses of dark vehicles in pursuit.

Nothing we can't handle." He maneuvered the powerful car like it was part of him, movements smooth despite our speed. A sharp turn brought us impossibly close to a wall, but his hands were steady on the wheel, completely in control. I should have been terrified. Instead, I found myself stealing glances at him—the sharp concentration in his eyes, the slight smile playing at his lips.

When we finally lost our tail, his whole demeanor shifted. The intense focus melted into something more relaxed, though his eyes still checked the mirrors regularly.

"So," he said conversationally, "first time being kidnapped from your kidnappers?"

"Is that what this is?"

"Nah, this is more like strategic relocation." His grin was infectious. "With bonus car chase for entertainment value."

"Are you always like this?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"Like what?" He glanced over, eyes dancing with mischief. "Devastatingly charming? Unfairly handsome? Just naturally hilarious?"

"Ridiculous," I said, but found myself smiling.

"Ah, that's my specialty. Just ask Giuliano - actually, don't. He's still mad about my last few 'creative' ideas."

We pulled into an underground garage that looked nothing like the luxury buildings I was used to. Everything here felt more real somehow.

"Home sweet, somewhat questionable, home," he announced with that infectious grin of his, killing the engine. His eyes swept over me again, lingering on my bare feet and silk pajamas. "We should probably get you some actual clothes. Unless you're trying to start a new fashion trend—midnight escape chic."

I looked down at myself, suddenly aware of how absurd I must look. "I didn't exactly pack for this."

"Here." He shrugged off his jacket, stepping close to settle it around my shoulders. His fingers brushed my neck as he adjusted the collar, and I caught a hint of his scent, something warm and distinctly male.

In the elevator, Luca leaned against the wall, seemingly unaffected by the chaos we'd just escaped. "Fair warning about the fourth floor," he said casually. "The vending machine by the stairs is definitely haunted."

I blinked at him. "Haunted?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded solemnly. "Eats your money, then gives you exactly what you didn't ask for. Giuliano says it's just old, but I've seen it give Angelo a protein bar when he clearly pressed for chips. Twice." He tapped his temple.

The elevator ride up had me fighting back a laugh. I couldn't figure him out; one minute he's expertly dodging people trying to kill us, and the next he's going on about a haunted vending machine like it's the most normal thing in the world. I should have been terrified. Instead, I kept catching myself smiling.

But when we reached his door, he hesitated, key hovering near the lock. For the first time since I'd met him, his grin turned sheepish.

"So, fair warning," he said, fiddling with his keys, "my place is kind of a mess."

"After tonight, I think I can handle anything."

"We'll see about that," he muttered, but pushed open the door.

The apartment wasn't what I expected. Yes, there were signs of bachelor life: video game controllers on the coffee table, takeout menus magnetized to the fridge. Still, something about it felt real. Lived in. A shelf in the corner caught my eye, filled with an eclectic mix of motorcycle repair manuals, medical textbooks, and a collection of graphic novels.

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