Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I looked around at the smiling faces, the dancing couples, the business being conducted in corners, and understood with sudden clarity the true extent of the Luca family's power. It wasn't just in their wealth or their connections or even their willingness to use violence. What had me in awe came from Dario’s ability to shape reality itself for everyone in their orbit. Some people were better with the skill than others, but all the Luca’s seemed to have honed it to perfection.
Dario leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. "Let's go home."
The car ride back to Villa Luca passed in tense silence, Dario's bandaged hand resting on his thigh, his profile sharp against the passing city lights. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage, a stark reminder of how quickly beauty had turned to violence. I kept my eyes on that crimson stain, my mind replaying the flash of the blade, the moment Dario had stepped between me and danger without hesitation. When we finally passed through the gates of Villa Luca, the mansion glowed with the Christmas lights I'd strung everywhere, the sight both surreal and comforting after the chaos we'd left behind.
We didn't speak as we entered through the main doors, the staff discreetly melting away at a slight nod from Dario. His good hand pressed against the small of my back, guiding me toward our private wing. The tension between us vibrated like a plucked string, neither of us quite ready to break the silence that had enveloped us since leaving The Gray.
Once inside our suite, I turned to him, reaching for his injured hand. "Let me," I said softly, the first words either of us had spoken since the car.
He watched me with those impossible blue eyes as I led him to the bathroom, his expression unreadable. I carefully unwrapped Marcus's handkerchief, wincing at the deep gash across his palm. Blood welled fresh as the cloth came away.
"It needs stitches," I murmured, reaching for the extensive first aid kit we kept stocked in our bathroom. Another reminder of the dangerous world I now inhabited.
"It's fine, baby," Dario replied, his voice low and gentle. "Just clean it.”
I ran warm water over the wound, watching his face for signs of pain. He didn't flinch, didn't even tense, though I knew it must hurt like hell. His ability to compartmentalize pain both impressed and unnerved me. I wondered how many wounds he had treated alone before I came into his life, how many times he'd stitched himself up rather than show weakness.
I patted the skin dry with a clean towel, then applied antiseptic. This time his fingers twitched slightly, the only acknowledgment of the sting. As I wrapped fresh gauze around his hand, securing it with medical tape, I noticed his gaze hadn't left my face once.
"You're good at this," he said.
I shrugged slightly. "When you grow up without health insurance, you learn a few things."
His uninjured hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my face. "You moved so quickly back there. When Valentina attacked."
"So did you," I countered, securing the last piece of tape. "You didn't hesitate."
"I never will," he said simply. "Not when it comes to protecting you, Belle."
Our eyes met in the mirror. The air in the bathroom suddenly felt too thick to breathe. I saw the shift in his expression, desire darkening his eyes, and my body responded immediately, a flush of heat spreading across my skin.
Dario's good hand cupped my cheek, turning my face to his. "I could have lost you tonight," he said, his voice rough. "If that blade had found you instead of me..."
I pressed my finger to his lips. "It didn't."
His control snapped. In one swift motion, he pulled me against him, his mouth crashing down on mine with bruising force. There was nothing gentle in this kiss. The gesture conveyed hunger and desperation, a physical manifestation of the fear and relief we both felt. I matched his intensity, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
We stumbled from the bathroom into the bedroom, unwilling to separate even for the few steps. His hands found the zipper of my expensive gown, yanking it down with enough force that I heard the fabric tear. I didn't care. I attacked his shirt buttons, several popping off in my haste to feel his skin against mine.
"I need you," I gasped as his lips blazed a trail down my neck. "Now, Dario."
He backed me against the wall, the cool surface a shock against my heated skin as my dress pooled at my feet. His bandaged hand braced against the wall beside my head while his other hand gripped my thigh, hiking it up around his waist. I clawed at his shoulders, pushing his shirt and jacket down his arms until they caught at his elbows, trapping his arms.