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Chapter 33

Author: Feesa
last update Last Updated: 2025-02-11 00:38:37

LUCA

I was still thinking about her when I left her room.

She didn’t tell me to stop. She didn’t pull away. She’d been on the edge, just like I had. And I hated that I wanted to see just how far we could both go.

But she didn’t trust me. Not yet. Not enough. And she shouldn’t.

Because I didn’t trust myself either.

I made my way back to the study, trying to push the weight of her out of my chest. But it wasn’t working.

I sat at my desk, but I didn’t touch the papers in front of me. Instead, I grabbed the bottle of whiskey again, poured another drink, and took a long gulp.

The burn felt good.

I needed something to dull the ache, the pull, the need for something I shouldn’t have.

And then there was Alicia.

What the hell was I supposed to do with her?

I’d been around long enough to know that nothing about her return was clean. Nothing was coincidental. She was back for a reason, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out why.

But I was going to have to.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a ha
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    ‎EMILIO‎‎The report comes in just after two a.m.—short, frantic, and laced with fear.‎‎She’s alive.‎‎Of course she is.‎‎I sip my coffee slowly, the bitter liquid grounding me in the stillness of my hotel room. The lights are off, except for the eerie blue flicker of monitors in front of me—security feeds, social media threads, encrypted messages looping in real time. All eyes on Morretti’s estate, and none of them mine. Not directly.‎‎The man I sent wasn't supposed to kill her. That was never the plan. Death is final. It ends things. And I'm not interested in endings. Not yet.‎‎He was meant to scare her. Shake her. Remind her that she isn’t untouchable, no matter how many armed guards Luca wraps her in. Just a ghost in the night, a whisper of threat she’d carry with her into the altar.‎‎But the idiot panicked. Let his hand slip. Collateral damage, they’d call it. A shallow stab wound that could’ve been deeper, blood spilled that wasn’t meant to be spilled. Unfortunate, y

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    ‎ISADORA ‎ ‎Luca laughed at something Rafael said, the low rumble of it curling around the hallway walls and crawling under my skin. ‎ ‎I paused at the archway, watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. The study was awash in golden light—books, whiskey glasses, the faint scent of cigars and secrets. Luca’s posture was relaxed, his hand sweeping casually as he poured a drink. Rafael leaned against the desk, arms crossed, smirking. Like nothing had ever shifted between them. ‎ ‎But I remembered. ‎ ‎I remembered Luca storming into that garden, face thundercloud-dark. I remembered Rafael's stare—tight-lipped, unreadable. Whatever truce they’d shaken hands on, it wasn’t clean. ‎ ‎So why did they act like it was? ‎ ‎The door creaked as I stepped back. I didn’t want them seeing me. Not yet. Not when my head buzzed with questions they both refused to answer. ‎ ‎Later, when we were alone in the bedroom, I tried to press him gently. “You and Rafael seem... good ag

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