Page 15 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
I let out a brittle laugh, though it doesn’t carry the strength I want it to. “Nervous isn’t the word I’d use.”
“Then what would you call it?” He takes a step closer, the certain pace of a predator closing in on its prey.
“Trapped,” I reply, forcing the word past the lump in my throat. Even as I say the word, though, I’m unsure how much I mean it. In fact, I have no idea what I’m feeling. Maybe it's the alcohol. Or what he’s done for my mom. Orhim, damn him for being so infernally handsome and powerful.
Luca stops, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something—regret, maybe—but it’s gone too quickly to be sure.
“Trapped,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. Then he moves again, closing the distance between us in three strides.
Before I can react, his hands are on me, one sliding around my waist, the other brushing against the curve of my jaw. His touch is firm, commanding, but not rough.
“You’re not trapped, Valentina,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet. “You’re mine.”
The words send a shiver down my spine, and I hate how my body reacts to him. The heat of his hand against my skin, the steady pressure of his grip—it all works against me, eroding the walls I’ve spent the entire day building.
I place my hands against his chest, intending to push him away, but the solid warmth beneath my palms makes my breath catch. He’s so close now, his scent—something dark and smoky, with a hint of spice—wrapping around me like a cocoon.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I snap, though my voice trembles.
He smirks, his lips curving into that infuriating, knowing smile. “Liar.”
The word hangs between us, leaving his mouth and landing on the tip of my lower lip, delicious, impossibly so.
Then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow at first, deliberate, like he’s giving me time to pull away. But I don’t. My fingers curl against the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tightly as the heat between us builds.
Luca deepens the kiss, his hand sliding up my back, pulling me flush against him. The world around me fades, the suite, the bed, the tension of the day, all of it disappears, leaving only him.
My mind is screaming at me to stop, to push him away, to remember that this isn’t what I want. But my body doesn’t listen.
If anything, it’sintoxicating.I’ve never been kissed by this before, by someone who’s doing it like he means it, like he means to own every inch of me with just his mouth and his feverishly hot, indulgent tongue.
His lips are soft but insistent, his touch a perfect balance of control and restraint. I hate how easily I melt into him, how my body seems to recognize something in his that my mind refuses to acknowledge.
When he pulls back, his eyes search mine, his breathing uneven.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, echoing the words he said earlier during the dance.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “What do you expect, Luca? You’ve ripped my life apart and put it back together the wayyouwanted. Do you really think I’d be calm about that?”
His face darkens, his grip on me tightening slightly. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done to you? You think I don’t see it?”
He pauses, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising to meet my eyes again. “I see you, Valentina. Every part of you. And I promise you, this will be better than you think.Wewill be better.”
I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words don’t come.
Instead, I let him guide me toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me every chance to resist. But I don’t.
The battle inside me rages on, but as his hands slide over my shoulders, unfastening the delicate clasps of my dress, I know I’ve already lost.
Luca leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Let me show you, Valentina.”
And despite everything—my fear, my anger, my uncertainty—I do.
6
