Page 20 of Heritage of Fire

I offer a nod. The nagging feeling that Luna should be here for this weighs on me, but she seemed content to be alone on the terrace.

Spinning the ring on my finger, I seek out some of my Bratva men to see if anyone is paying attention to thisinteraction.

Luna’s mother grabs my hand and points at the ring. “I’m so sorry about this. I told Luna this wasn’t fit for a man of your caliber, but it was the one she picked out. I can replace it with gold if you’d like.”

My mouth opens, but I close it quickly.

Luna picked this out?

I was relieved I don’t have to wear something large and gaudy like she does. The sleek black lines are perfect.

“No need, Mrs. Buscetta,” I reply, turning my attention to Salvatore. “And, Mr. Buscetta, we’ll be leaving. I have pressingwork to get to, as I’m sure a man of yourcalibercan understand.”

His irritated eyes meet mine, and a small smirk curves my lips.

Dimitry helps load Luna’s bag into the back of my BMW while Luna hangs behind her family, none of them speaking. The distance between them is unmistakable—despite her father, mother, and sister standing three feet in front of her.

Luka’s arm rests over Kate’s shoulders as they wait in front of the country club to see us off. Once the trunk is closed, I nod to Luka and give Kate a wink.

I watch in bewilderment as Luna’s parents leisurely dismiss her with a nod before turning back to the building. No goodbye. No hugs. Hell, this family is cold.

Leaning back on my car, hands tucked into my pockets, my gaze travels from Luna’s heels up to where her arms are wrapped around her chest.

It looks as if she’s tracing the lines in the driveway brickwork. Her eyes move up, then over, down, and across again. Like she’s trying to commit each brick to memory. Or avoid facing me. It’s probably the latter.

Observing her feels wrong.

Clearing my throat, I open the passenger side door. “Ready?” I ask.

She only offers me a nod.

The ride to the warehouse is painfully silent. I have no idea what to say, or what to ask. I should’ve prepared better or listened to Kate when she told me to talk to her.

She cornered me at the reception. Walked straight into the men’s restroom to “offer me some friendly advice”. It was more of a reprimand as she tried to get me to see things from Luna’s perspective, to understand what she may be feeling. To convince me to talk to her about the situation and our expectations. Except, when I opened my mouth on the terrace, my words were clipped and unfeeling.

But I don’t want to get to know her. I don’t want to be responsible for her. I don’t want to come to rely on her, or depend on her being in my life. Because, contract or not, this marriage will come to an end.

Her dress spills over the black leather interior of the car, the lace wrinkling, as she squeezes herself as close to the door as possible.

I smirk. She doesn’t want to be here, either.

“I live in a warehouse,” I blurt out, and her head slowly turns to me.

“A warehouse?”

There isn’t any judgment in her tone, just curiosity. For a woman accustomed to a lavish estate, she’s already handling the news better than I thought she would.

“Yeah, we … Luka?—”

Should I be sharing this?

“The Bratva owns several warehouses, and during the build of the newest one, I put a studio apartment above it.”

“So, you don’t live in the city?” she asks, and I watch the tendril of hope that appeared when I first mentioned the warehouse crash from her expression.

“No.” And I never will.

“Oh, okay.”

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