Chapter Four

Palermo — Club Inferno, Vucciria District 

The night pulsed with heat, a heady mixture of alcohol and desire that soaked the air in the dimly lit club. Amara had pulled away from Luca’s kiss, her breath shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her body still hummed with the remnants of his touch, every inch of her skin feeling like it was on fire. 

She was lost and she knew it. The moment his lips had found hers, it was like a storm had shattered her carefully constructed walls. All the years of building a life free from him, all the years of pretending she could be someone else — someone strong and independent — had evaporated in the space of a heartbeat. 

Luca hadn’t let go. Not physically, not emotionally. And the worst part? She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. 

“You don’t get to do this,” she said, her voice strained as she stepped back, breaking the connection between them. She wiped her lips quickly, though the taste of him lingered — raw, addictive. He still had the power to make her forget everything, make her lose herself in the madness of him. 

“You don’t get to walk in here and make me forget myself,” she added, trying to steady her shaking hands, her breathing still unsteady. 

Luca didn’t move. He was still watching her with that unreadable expression on his face, his eyes dark, dangerous. There was a flicker of something beneath the surface — something raw, something desperate. But he wasn’t going to show it. Not now. 

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, as though he was in control of everything — of her, of the room, of the very air between them. “But you forgot yourself, didn’t you?” His voice was low, his words weighted with a truth she couldn’t deny. “For a second there, Amara, you let yourself remember what it was like.”

She shook her head violently, trying to push the thoughts away. “I'm not that person anymore.”

Luca's lips curled into a smile, though it was more of a sneer than anything else. “You're lying to yourself. You always were. You always will be.”

His words stung more than she cared to admit. He was right. The lie she had built around herself was fragile, a brittle shell waiting to crack. She could pretend she could build her life with new people, new faces, but the truth was simple: no matter how far she ran, she couldn’t escape the man standing in front of her. She couldn’t escape the past they shared. 

“I'm not running anymore, Amara,” Luca continued, his voice dangerously soft. “I'm done with all the games. I’m done pretending like you don’t belong with me. You always have.”

“Stop,” she said, the word a plea more than an order. She took another step back, though there was no escaping the fire between them. “I'm not going back. I won’t be your pawn again.”

Luca's eyes darkened, a flicker of anger crossing his face. But it was brief, a shadow, quickly replaced by something colder. “You think I'm asking for your submission? You think I need your compliance?”

She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what he wanted, what he was playing at. But the fear was there, lurking beneath her skin. 

“No,” she said slowly. “I think you want control. You always did.”

Luca's smile was almost cruel now. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about control, Amara. This is about us. This is about what we are,”

His words sent shivers down her spine, a flood of memories crashing into her all at once. She remembered the way he had looked at her, with that possessive hunger in his eyes. The way he had taken her, body and soul, never letting go, never giving her a chance to breathe. 

But there was something different in the way he was standing now. Something that was colder, more calculating, more dangerous. She could see the sharp edges in his expression, the hardness in the way his jaw clenched. This was no longer about love. This was about something far darker. 

“What do you want from me, Luca?” She whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding music of the club. “Why are you here?”

Luca's gaze softened just slightly, but there was still a brutal intensity in his eyes. “I want you to understand something, Amara.” He took another step toward her, his boots silent on the hardwood floor. “I want you to know that no matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you try to push me away, you can’t change what’s between us.”

The words hit her like a blow. She could feel the weight of them, pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. She wanted to deny him. To tell him that she was done with all of it — done with the chaos, the obsession, the love that had destroyed her. 

But when she opened her mouth to speak, the words caught in her throat. 

She wasn’t done. She wasn’t free.

“I know you feel it too,” Luca continued, his voice almost tender now, though it was still tinged with something darker. “I know you want me. You always have.”

“No,” Amara said, her voice hoarse. She shook her head, trying to break free of the pull that had always existed between them. “I've moved on.”

Luca's gaze darkened again, his lips curling into a mocking smile. “No you haven't. You are lying to yourself.”

She wanted to scream. To tell him to shut up. But the truth was his words were too close to reality. She wasn’t lying to him. She was lying to herself. 

“I'm not your property, Luca,” she said, her voice rising with a defiance that she hadn’t known she still had. “I don't belong to you.”

His gaze flickered for a moment, and then he stepped closer again, closing the distance between them with a deliberate slowness that made her breath catch. “You'll always belong to me, Amara,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a wave of heat crashing over her. 

“No,” she said again, but it was weaker this time. She didn’t know what she was fighting anymore. She didn't know if she was fighting him, or fighting herself. 

Luca's hand reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek gently, like a lover’s touch, but there was no softness behind it. It was possessive. It was hungry.

“You're mine,” he repeated, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. “And I'll prove it to you.”

Before she could react, his lips were on hers again, this time harder, more insistent. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, not when his touch was as familiar as her own breath, not when his kiss felt like the answer to every question she had ever asked. 

It wasn’t love.it wasn't even desire. It was something else. Something darker. Something they couldn’t escape, no matter how hard they tried. 

His hand were on her now, gripping her waist, pulling her closer, and for a fleeting moment, Amara let herself feel the heat. She let herself feel the pull of him, the way her body responded to his, despite all the walls she had built. 

But in the back of her mind, she knew the truth. 

This wasn't love. This was a dangerous game. And she had already lost.