Page 110 of Flawed

She swallows hard then gazes up. Her greens glow hotter. She blinks hard then states, "You shouldn't be near me."

"Why is that?"

Her bottom lip trembles. She answers, "I think you know the club rules about families mixing."

My chest tightens. Of all the things that have gone through my mind, this never occurred to me.

She thinks I'm an Abruzzo.

Everyone thinks I am.

But I'm not.

She can't know that.

Life has never been so unfair. I debate how to handle this but blurt out, "How long have you known who I am?"

She closes her eyes as if in pain.

"Stellina—"

"Since the morning after we were first together," she confesses.

The hairs on my neck rise. So much now makes sense. I ask, "This is why you hated me so much?"

She glances back at the window. Her entire body trembles. She inquires, "So you know I'm with the Marinos?"

I press closer, holding her tighter.

She objects, saying, "We're going to get caught."

"I locked the door," I admit.

She takes a deep breath.

I ask, "How are you associated with the Marinos?"

She locks eyes with me. "Why? Are you going to do something bad to them?"

Shock fills me. "Do you think I'm that kind of person?"

"You're an Abruzzo," she chokes out, and a tear slips down her cheek.

"I'm not—" I shut my mouth and swallow the lump in my throat. What would I say? I'm really a Marino?

"You're not what, Luca?" she pushes.

I offer, "I'm not like them."

She scoffs. "Sure you aren't."

It hurts that she thinks of me in that light, yet I can't say I blame her. She refocuses on the room, and I follow her gaze.

A couple I've never seen before is on a bed. Candles are lit. Soft, seductive music plays, which I take note of for the first time since seeing Chanel. Unlike the other rooms, they aren't using any tools or toys. It's just them, and by the looks of it, they aren't just having sex—they're making love.

"Do you like watching?" I question, not taking my hands off her or backing away.

"I like watchingthem."

---