Chapter 4: Midnight Confessions

The clock on the nightstand glowed 11:58.

I hadn’t moved from the bed in hours.

Sofia had crashed early too much champagne, too much sun, too much everything. She’d hugged me goodnight, whispered “You’re the best, Val,” and passed out with her phone still playing soft music. I’d waited until her breathing evened out, until the house settled into that heavy, sleeping silence.

Now the guest wing felt too small. Too quiet. Every creak of the old villa sounded like footsteps coming for me.

I slipped out of bed barefoot, wearing the same loose tee and shorts from earlier. No makeup. No armor. Just me—raw, nervous, stupid.

The hallway was dark, moonlight slicing through tall windows in silver bars. I padded past Sofia’s door, heart in my throat, and down the curved staircase. The kitchen lights were off. The patio doors stood ajar, letting in cool night air scented with jasmine and chlorine from the pool.

I stepped outside.

The guest house was separate a low stone building at the far end of the garden, lights off except for one warm glow in the living room window. Luca’s silhouette moved behind the glass.

I hesitated at the edge of the lawn.

This was the moment. Turn back now and pretend the last three days never happened. Or walk forward and burn everything down.

My feet chose for me.

The grass was damp under my toes. Crickets stopped singing as I approached. I reached the door half-open, like he’d left it that way on purpose.

I pushed it wider.

Luca stood in the center of the room, back to me, pouring two glasses of amber liquid from a decanter. He wore black trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled, top buttons undone. The room smelled of him cedar, smoke, something sharper tonight. Whiskey, maybe. Or just anticipation.

He didn’t turn. “You came.”

“I said I would.”

He set the bottle down. Slowly. Turned.

His eyes raked over me slow, thorough. From bare feet to messy bun to the way my nipples had tightened under the thin cotton from the night air. Or from him.

“Sit,” he said.

There was only one couch. I took the end farthest from him. He handed me a glass, fingers brushing mine deliberately.

I took a sip. Burned all the way down.

He sat opposite, close enough that our knees almost touched. “Talk.”

I laughed short, brittle. “You first. You’re the one who invited me here like we’re having a secret meeting.”

“We are.”

Silence stretched.

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, glass dangling between his fingers. “I’ve wanted you since the first time Sofia brought you home. Two years ago. You were wearing that yellow sundress, laughing at something stupid she said. You looked at me really looked and I felt it like a punch.”

My breath caught.

“I told myself it was nothing. You were a kid. My daughter’s friend. Off-limits.”

“I’m twenty-two,” I whispered.

“You were nineteen then. Still off-limits.”

I looked down at the whiskey swirling in my glass. “And now?”

“Now…” He exhaled. “Now I can’t pretend anymore.”

He set his glass aside. Reached out. Took mine from my hand. Set it on the table.

Then he moved slow, giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t.

He cupped my face with both hands. Thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “Tell me to stop, Valentina. One word. And I walk out that door.”

My lips parted. No sound came.

His mouth crashed into mine.

Not gentle. Not tentative. Hungry.

I gasped against him. My hands flew to his shoulders gripping, not pushing. He tasted like whiskey and sin. His tongue swept in, claiming, and I met him stroke for stroke, desperate, starved.

He groaned low, primal. One arm banded around my waist, hauling me onto his lap. I straddled him, knees sinking into the couch cushions, chest pressed to his.

His hands roamed down my back, under my shirt, palms hot against bare skin. I arched, pressing closer, needing more.

He broke the kiss long enough to drag his mouth down my throat. Teeth grazed my pulse point. I whimpered.

“Quiet,” he murmured against my skin. “She’s asleep.”

The reminder hit like ice water.

Sofia.

I froze.

Luca felt it. Lifted his head. Eyes dark, pupils blown. “Still want to stop?”

I searched his face saw the same war I felt. Guilt. Hunger. Need.

“No,” I breathed.

He kissed me again slower this time. Deeper. Like he was memorizing me.

One hand slid up my thigh, under the hem of my shorts. Fingers teased the edge of my panties. I rocked against him instinctively.

He growled. “You’re soaked.”

Heat flooded my face. “Don’t”

“Don’t what?” His fingers slipped beneath the fabric. Brushed my clit. Once. Twice.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

“Say it,” he demanded softly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want…” My hips chased his hand. “I want you.”

His finger circled slow, torturous. “Where?”

“Inside me.”

He pushed one finger in. Slow. Deep. Curled.

I moaned quiet, broken.

He added a second. Thrust gently. Thumb on my clit.

“Like this?”

“Yes God, yes.”

He worked me steadily, watching my face. “You’re so tight. So wet for me.”

I clenched around him. “Luca”

“Come for me, Valentina. Let me feel it.”

I shattered silent, shuddering, nails digging into his shoulders. Wave after wave until I was boneless against him.

He held me through it. Kissed my temple. Whispered things in Italian I didn’t understand but felt like praise.

When I could breathe again, I lifted my head.

His eyes were soft now. Almost tender.

But the guilt was there too.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I whispered.

“I know.”

“But we will.”

He didn’t deny it.

He kissed me once soft, lingering.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “We figure out what this is.”

I nodded. Slid off his lap. Legs shaky.

He stood with me. Walked me to the door.

At the threshold, he caught my wrist. Pulled me back for one last kiss deep, possessive.

“Go,” he murmured against my lips. “Before I drag you back inside.”

I slipped into the night.

The walk back to the main house felt endless. Every step echoed with what I’d just done.

Sofia’s room was still dark. Still quiet.

I crawled into bed. Pulled the covers over my head.

My body hummed. Satisfied.

My heart ached.

Tomorrow.

We’d face it tomorrow.

But tonight…

Tonight I let myself remember every second.

And I didn’t regret a single one.