Page 21 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
“I’ll do what needs to be done,” I say finally, the words heavy in the air. “For the family. For us.”
Donna Maria nods, though the judgment in her eyes doesn’t fade. “See that you do, Luca. Or you’ll regret it.”
I turn on my heel, her words ringing in my ears as I stride back toward the house. But instead of heading to the bedroom, I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing Marco. It’s late, but I know he’ll answer.
“Luca,” Marco’s voice comes through, groggy but alert.
“I need you at the estate tomorrow,” I say, my tone clipped. “Bring the papers and the file on Valentina. Everything.”
“Understood.” There’s no hesitation, only the efficient acknowledgment I expect from him.
I hang up and stand in the shadows of the courtyard, the phone heavy in my hand. If Valentina is going to stay, I need to know she can handle it. I’ll push her, test her, and force her to show me what’s buried under all that defiance and fear. If she breaks…then Donna Maria was right.
But if she doesn’t?
The thought ignites a murderously quiet rage inside me. A grim smile tugs at my lips as I look up at the darkened windows of the bedroom where Valentina sleeps.
We’ll find out soon enough.
8
VALENTINA
Iwake slowly, the edges of sleep clinging to me like a stubborn mist. My body protests as I stretch, a delicious ache spreading through my limbs, a reminder of the man I married and the things he did to me last night. Heat flushes my cheeks, the memory vivid and unrelenting.
Luca Salvatore is nothing if not intense, and he brings that same fire to the bedroom. My knees threaten to buckle just thinking about the way his hands moved over me, how he took control with a masterful dominance that left me breathless and aching in ways I never thought possible.
I push the thoughts away and sit up, wrapping the sheets around me as though they might shield me from the storm in my mind. The massive bed is empty, the space beside me already cool. He must have left hours ago, and for that, I’m oddly grateful. The idea of facing him now feels like a fresh wound would.
With a little sigh, I head for the welcome escape of the shower. Blissfully hot water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of the night before, though it does nothing to quell the memories or the heat pooling low in my belly. My fingers lingeragainst my skin, tracing paths where his hands were, and before I know it, I’m giving in to the wave of need.
It’s almost humiliating how quickly I unravel, the steam cloaking me in my private surrender. I lean against the cool tile, letting the water soothe the lingering ache in my body, but the reprieve doesn’t last long.
A faint creak carries over the hiss of water.
I still. At first, I think I imagined it; just the house settling, or maybe a draft teasing the door. But then I hear it again: the unmistakable groan of the bathroom door swinging open. My heart leaps into my throat as I twist toward the sound, clutching at the slick tiles. Through the fogged glass, a silhouette forms—broad shoulders, a familiar stance, an ease that could only belong to one man.
“Relax,” says Luca, his voice smooth and unhurried. “It’s just me.”
As if that’s supposed to calm me.
“I thought I locked the door,” I mutter, cursing under my breath.
He smirks, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he watches me. “You’ll find locks don’t mean much to me, Valentina.”
There’s no arrogance in his tone, just a quiet certainty that makes my stomach flip.
“Do you mind?” I ask, fixing a frown on my face and hoping I look more confident than I feel. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he tilts his head, studying me like he’s debating something.
“Can I join you?” he asks with a hint of teasing in his voice.
The question throws me off balance. I’d expected him to just take what he wanted—that’s what men like Luca do, isn’t it? But here he is, asking.
“Fine,” I say, the word leaving my lips before I can overthink it.
His smirk deepens, and in one fluid motion, he’s shedding his clothes, revealing the body I’d barely gotten to appreciate last night. The shower suddenly feels much smaller as he steps in, the heat of the water mingling with the intensity of his presence. He’s all sharp lines and hard muscle, a predator in a space meant for surrender, and I can feel my pulse quicken as he moves closer.
“Turn around,” he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.
