Luciano – POVThere shouldn’t be a tracking record of my family on that list, officers,” I said calmly—too calmly—because the fury boiling beneath my skin could’ve scorched the floor if I let it.But the bastard didn’t even look at me.Didn’t flinch.Didn’t bother to lift his gaze from the goddamn folder he was pretending to read.The audacity.Not just in his silence—but in his wife’s shrill voice earlier that morning, when she called my number, speaking like I was some street rat. Talking to me—Luciano De Luca—about a shipment, threatening to sue me like this was a courtroom and not a city carved from blood, secrets, and the weight of my name.Before all of this, I was in Olivia’s room. Her head resting on my chest. That soft peace I only found in her presence curling around my ribs. I didn’t expect Marco to barge in like hell had opened. He never did that. Not unless it was fire and ruin.“They’ve seized the shipment,” he said breathlessly, eyes darting between Olivia and me. “The
Olivia — POVIt had been hours.And I still hadn’t changed out of the sweater I’d stolen from Luciano’s closet.Still hadn’t touched the tea someone left on the table.Still hadn’t figured out why the hell my own cousin wanted me dead.I curled tighter on the velvet couch, tugging the sleeves over my hands, blinking at the far wall like it might spit out an answer if I stared hard enough.Matteo.His name hit like static behind my ribs.I hadn’t seen him in years. Not since the night he promised to help me escape that auction. Not since he whispered, “You’re my blood. I’ll get you out.”And then he didn’t.Just vanished.And now here we were — years later, and his men were trying to turn me into Swiss cheese outside a damn baby store.That had to mean something.Did he know? About the pregnancy? About me being with Luciano?Was that it?Was I some twisted version of family betrayal?I exhaled hard, scrubbing my face with both hands. The air in this penthouse was too clean. Too sterile
Luciano — POV Olivia was still rambling about my father being a designer rat hybrid when I reached for her hand and tugged her gently into me. “Get dressed,” I murmured against her forehead. She blinked. “Huh?” I pulled back, a smile tugging at my mouth. “We’re going shopping.” She blinked again, then frowned like I’d told her we were going to attend a tea party with Satan. “Shopping? For what? Guns? Grenades? A new identity because your father’s going to drop a hit on me by Friday?” I laughed and shook my head. “Baby shopping.” That shut her up. Her mouth fell open, eyes narrowing suspiciously like I’d just offered her a unicorn. “I’m one month pregnant,” she said slowly. “One. Uno. The baby doesn’t even have knees yet.” “Don’t care,” I said, stepping closer. “We’re buying cribs. Onesies. A tiny little hat. I want to see you try to argue with me while holding a stuffed giraffe.” She stared up at me like I was insane. “Luciano, this is excessive. We don’t even know if it’s
Luciano — POVThe sun hadn’t even touched the damn skyline when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. One shrill vibration. Then another. Persistent. Like it knew I didn’t want to be awake.I groaned and reached out with one arm, careful not to wake Olivia, her breath soft against my collarbone. I was still tangled in her, the sheets a mess around our legs, my body still humming with the feel of hers.But the screen was already flashing with the name I couldn’t ignore.Father.I didn’t answer right away.Because for the first time in years, I didn’t want to be Luciano Ricci — heir to the throne, cold-blooded prince of a crumbling dynasty. I just wanted to be the man whose heart was still pounding from the sound of her voice.But I knew better than to let that call go unanswered.I slid out of bed, moving slow. Olivia stirred, eyes fluttering, but I kissed her shoulder and whispered, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be back.”She mumbled something soft — my name, maybe — and I tucked t
Olivia POV His lips were on mine like they’d been starving for weeks.But this wasn’t desperation.This wasn’t dominance or hunger or the kind of heat that exploded in shadows and secrets.This was slow.Intentional.His hands slid along my thighs, up beneath the hem of the oversized sweater I’d stolen from his drawer weeks ago. My breath caught as his fingers met skin, warm and calloused and steady — not shaking, not unsure. Luciano didn’t move like a man who questioned. He moved like one who claimed.And God, I wanted to be claimed.My pulse thrummed in my ears as he pulled back just enough to look at me."You’re sure?" he asked, voice low and raw.I nodded, chest rising and falling with the weight of what I felt — not just desire but everything that came with it. Fear. Safety. Trust. Something I couldn’t quite name.He stared at me for a moment, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek like he was memorizing it.And then he stood, slowly, pulling his jacket off.His movements were
Olivia — POV My legs were moving before my heart agreed to it. The hallway outside Luciano’s study was long, shadowed, and cold, and every step I took felt like I was walking into a trap I hadn’t asked to be part of. The walls pulsed with silence, broken only by the soft thud of my bare feet on the marble floor. I shouldn’t have said I’d go. God, what was I thinking? Luciano’s father was a monster. Not the kind in bedtime stories. The real kind—the kind that built empires from blood and looked his own son in the eyes while threatening to destroy him. And now he wanted me. “Stop walking like you’re being led to a firing squad,” came Luciano’s voice behind me. I froze. He caught up to me in two strides and gently took my hand. His fingers were warm. Steady. I wasn’t. “You don’t have to prove anything,” he murmured, eyes scanning my face. “Especially not to him.” I swallowed hard. “It’s not about proving anything. I just…” I trailed off, struggling for the words. “I can’t le