16: Safe

Maria’s POV

I woke up to an empty bed.

Luca was gone.

Only a gentle scent of him stayed on the pillow beside me—sweaty, masculine and yet clean. I pulled the sheets up over my bare chest, stretching slowly, the ache between my thighs a reminder of last night. 

What started with a question ended with him—inside me, around me, everywhere. And though I’d gotten some of the answers I was looking for, there were still parts of Luca I knew he could still tell me.

I got up and put on a robe, and walked into the living room where I found him at the window, already dressed in a black suit, tie in hand.

“Morning,” I said, voice still husky from sleep.

He turned, his eyes drinking me in from head to toe. “Morning, doll.”

I sat on the edge of the couch, tucking my legs beneath me. He came to me, kissed my head and asked what plans I had for today.

I knew what I was about to say would upset him a little so I hesitated.

He could see my hesitation so he asked, “what is it?”

“I’d like to go to my apartment today.”

His brows folded. Just like I knew they would. “Why?”

“I just want to see it. That’s all.”

“No,” he said too quickly. Then softer, “It’s not safe.”

“It’s been a while. I just want to see it with my own eyes. Make sure… nothing’s left there. If it's not safe, then I'll be back.”

“You know you can stay here for as long as you want. Or come with me to my office. You've never been there before.”

I shook my head. “I need to do this, for me.”

He exhaled through his nose, thinking. Then, “Alex will go with you.”

“No. Don’t do that.” I got up and walked over to him, resting my hands on his chest. “He has more important things to do. I’ll keep my phone on me. If anything feels off, I’ll call. Immediately.”

He stared at me for a long time, silent.

I pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Please.”

“You get an hour. Safe or not, you come back here,” he said finally. “And you call if you even think something’s wrong.”

I smiled. “Ok.”

*******

Red Coffee was still as busy as ever. I didn’t go in. I stood a little away from the entrance and dialed Sophia’s number.

She picked up in two rings.

“Girl, what's up?” she said, immediately stepping outside. “You just disappeared on me!”

I laughed, waving from across the street.

So dramatic. Like we didn't just talk some days back.

She hurried over, her red apron still tied around her waist.

We hugged tightly, and for a second, I felt like a version of myself that wasn’t tangled in penthouse walls and mafia whispers.

“How have you been,” she said as we pulled apart. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t look shaken. You look…” Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “Like someone who got her back blown out.”

“Sophia!” I smacked her arm but couldn’t help laughing.

“I knew it. That man’s eyes? Yeah, he’s not the kind to just hold hands.”

“We only just… last night,” I said, lowering my voice. “And honestly, it wasn’t even about sex. Things have been... complicated.”

She paused for a while, then asked: “Are you sure you're okay, Maria?”

I paused.

“Yes. I am.”

Sophia looked at me for a long beat, her expression softening. “Then that’s all that matters. Just promise me something?”

“What?”

“If he ever stops treating you right, or starts acting crazy or dangerous, you call me. You know what I can do.”

I nodded, not telling her about the camera. Not yet. I knew what she’d say. How she’d go full protective bestie mode. But I wasn’t ready to face that.

We hugged again before she headed back inside, mouthing, text me later, I want all the tea.

I smiled. I missed her. I missed her so much and I appreciate all she has done for me.

But that was a thought for later.

For now, I need to go… home.

******

My front door creaked as I pushed it open.

From the door, I could tell. 

It was chaos. My stomach dropped.

Cushions torn apart. My bookshelf knocked over, all its contents scattered like fallen soldiers. Dishes smashed on the kitchen floor, like someone had gone out of their way to destroy everything here.

The kitchen cabinet doors hung open, drawers yanked out, some of my mugs smashed like they were targeted on purpose. The whole apartment had been ransacked into a disaster.

I stepped in carefully, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My bedroom door was open. I walked in slowly.

My drawers were pulled out. My clothes tossed everywhere. My mattress had been slashed open, foam guts spilling out like a crime scene.

I covered my mouth.

This was supposed to be my safe place. My own space. But now… it felt poisoned. Defiled.

My legs trembled as I backed out slowly, reaching for my phone with shaking hands.

I sat down carefully on the one chair still standing, trying to breathe through the chaos of emotions that rose in my chest.

I didn’t cry.

I just stared at the damages of my home—at the pieces of my life scattered everywhere—and wondered if I’d ever feel truly safe again.

The air felt too still. Too quiet. Like the apartment itself was holding its breath.

And then I saw it.

Right there on the wall, drawn in black marker above my bed.

YOU'LL NEVER BE SAFE HERE.