24: Pray for Peace, or News or Storm

Maria’s POV

I knew he was going to be mad. I knew Luca would be furious once he found out. But not like this. 

Not to the point where he’d look at me like I was nothing.

Not to the point where he'd throw me aside like I was just another pawn.

It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Now I sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers tangled in my hair, staring at the floor. My heart beat slowly now, tired from all the crying. 

My eyes were dry, but my chest still burned. I kept thinking, maybe I shouldn't have gone. Maybe I should have waited, or told him.

But I only wanted to help.

I thought Alejandro would stop if I begged him. I thought I could do something—anything—to help Luca. Instead, I made things worse.

The door opened.

I looked up, and there he was. 

Luca. 

Silent, cold, but here. He didn’t look at me at first. He stepped in like he was just here to breathe, not to see me.

"Luca..." I called, my voice shaking. “Say something.”

He didn’t.

“Please... can you at least look at me?” I stood, walking slowly to where he stood.

He finally turned.

"You shouldn't have gone to him without telling me, Maria," he said.

"And I’m really sorry," I answered. "If I had known it would offend you this much, I wouldn’t have. Luca, I swear."

He exhaled and nodded once. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that... earlier. I shouldn’t have gone that far.”

“But you did,” I whispered, looking up into his eyes.

His jaw clenched. “I was scared. Angry. You pushed me to that edge, Maria.”

I didn’t say anything to that. Maybe I did. Maybe I should’ve waited. But right now, I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted him back.

So I stepped closer and reached for his hand.

“Let’s forget it, please. Let’s just sleep and pretend today never happened. I got so scared of you today, Luca. I thought I lost you.”

He didn’t respond. Not right away. His eyes dropped to the floor, and his hand squeezed mine lightly.

“Go take a shower,” he finally said. “We’ll sleep and forget everything.”

I nodded, the weight in my chest lifting a little. He was still here. He was still mine.

In the bathroom, I washed slowly, carefully. I made sure to clean every part of me like I was washing away the day.

The water wasn’t hot enough to burn, but it felt like it peeled the fear from my skin. I dried off and put on the thinnest gown I could find.

I wanted to remind him that I was his. That he didn’t need to think about anything else—not Alejandro, not Alexa, just me.

When I came back to the room, he was already in bed. I climbed in beside him and laid my head on his chest. He didn’t push me away. That was a good sign.

I kissed him.

He kissed me back.

I touched him, and he let me.

He started slow, like he was still thinking. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, hoping I could bring him back to me fully.

I pulled his pants down, hoping to get him inside of me.

He didn't object.

And thankfully he was hard. Hard for me, I believed.

And for a while, I thought I had him and so I started riding him, slowly.

And slowly.

And gently.

I had a feeling he wasn't feeling it or wasn't feeling me but I brushed it off.

He’s probably just getting on.

But then he said it.

“Alexa…”

I froze.

He moved deeper into me. “I’m sorry… I let you down…”

I shut my eyes and bit my lip. Maybe I misheard. Maybe he was just dreaming.

But then he said it again. “Alexa…”

My body stiffened. I reached up and cupped his face, gently turning it toward mine.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “Luca, it’s Maria.”

His eyes blinked slowly. Then he stopped.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing,” I lied.

“No,” he said, pulling away. “It’s not nothing. I can’t… I can’t get him out of my head. Alejandro… he’s making me lose myself.”

“You don’t have to think about him now,” I whispered, touching his chest. “Just stay here with me. Just let this night be ours.”

“I can’t forget him,” he snapped, sitting up. “I know he told you he’d stop, but he won’t.”

“What if… what if he really only wanted to punish Alexa?” I asked. “What if he meant it when he said he won’t harm you?”

Luca turned sharply to me.

“Oh, so you know him better than me now, huh? You spent one day with him and suddenly you know everything about him?”

“I’m not saying that…”

“You know what? Just stop,” he said, getting out of bed.

“Luca—”

But he was already gone.

I pulled the blanket around myself and sat there in the cold silence, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. And slowly, the tears came. Again.

I cried.

I cried for myself.

For him.

For us.

I don’t know how long I sat there. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. But then, I heard it—shouting, footsteps, voices all over the hallway. Something was happening.

I rushed out, holding my gown together, and followed the noise.

Luca stood by the stairs, already dressed, surrounded by his men. Guns, jackets, orders flying in the air.

“Luca?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t look at me.

“Luca, what are you doing?” I tried again, moving closer.

He turned and motioned to one of the guards.

“Take her inside,” he said. “Don’t let her come out.”

“No—please, wait! Just talk to me!”

“Take her,” he barked.

Two men came toward me.

I didn’t resist. I didn’t shout. I just looked at him one more time before turning and walking away with them.

I went back to the room.

I sat by the bed.

And I prayed.

I prayed Alex would come back. That someone, anyone, would talk sense into Luca before it was too late.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat too fast to count.

And I waited.

For morning.

For news.

For peace.

Or the storm that was coming.