Chapter 6: Cracks in the Facade

The rest of Sunday passed in a haze of forced normalcy.

Sofia returned from the mall loaded with shopping bags, chattering about sales and new lipstick shades. I nodded along, smiled at the right moments, pretended my thighs didn’t still ache from Luca’s grip, that my lips weren’t bruised from his kisses, that every time he walked into a room my pulse didn’t spike like I’d been caught stealing.

He was careful. Too careful.

He spoke to Sofia in his usual low, affectionate tone. Asked about her day. Teased her about the amount of pink she’d bought. But when his eyes met mine over her head, the air thickened. A silent promise. A warning.

Dinner was takeout pizza and salad on the patio because Sofia insisted on “outdoor vibes.” Luca sat across from me again. Our knees brushed under the table once. Accidentally, he’d claim if asked. I jolted like I’d been shocked. Sofia laughed. “You two are so jumpy today. Did I miss something?”

Luca’s fork paused mid-air. “Just tired.”

“Both of you?” She looked between us, brow furrowed. “Weird.”

I changed the subject. “Tell us about the lipstick. Which one’s your favorite?”

She launched into a detailed review. I exhaled slowly.

Luca’s foot nudged mine under the table deliberate this time. A slow slide along my calf. I froze. He kept his face neutral, nodding at Sofia’s story like nothing was happening.

I pressed my thighs together. Hard.

He withdrew after a moment. But the damage was done. Heat pooled low again. Relentless.

Bedtime came too soon.

Sofia hugged me goodnight. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve barely eaten.”

“I’m good,” I lied. “Just full.”

She studied me. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

The question hit harder this time.

“Of course.”

She hugged me tighter. “Love you, Val.”

“Love you too.”

Her door clicked shut.

I waited ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.

Then I slipped downstairs again.

The study door was ajar. Light spilled into the hallway.

I pushed it open.

Luca stood at the window, back to me, glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t turn.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

“You asked me to come.”

“I changed my mind.”

I stepped inside. Closed the door. Locked it.

He turned then. Eyes shadowed. Jaw tight.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said.

“You said that yesterday.”

“And I meant it.” He set the glass down. Hard. “But then I see you and”

He crossed the room in two strides. Grabbed my face. Kissed me like he was drowning.

I kissed him back desperate, angry, needy. Hands in his hair. Body pressed to his.

He lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist. He carried me to the desk same one from this morning. Set me down. Pushed my hoodie up. Mouth on my breasts again. Teeth. Tongue. Sucking hard enough to leave marks.

I moaned too loud.

He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Quiet.”

I nodded. Bit his palm.

He yanked my leggings down. No panties this time I’d stopped bothering. His fingers found me immediately. Slid inside. Two. Then three. Pumping fast.

“You’re dripping,” he growled against my neck. “All day?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Always.”

He pulled his fingers out. Unzipped. Freed himself.

No preamble this time.

He thrust in hard. Deep. One stroke.

I cried out behind his hand.

He stilled. Let me adjust. Then moved slow, punishing thrusts. Each one hitting deep. The desk rocked.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I did.

His eyes were wild. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

I clenched around him. “Harder.”

He obliged. Faster. Deeper. Hand still over my mouth. The other gripping my hip bruising.

I came first shattering, silent scream, body convulsing.

He followed growling my name, hips slamming once, twice, spilling inside me again.

We stayed locked together. Panting.

He removed his hand. Kissed me softly. Tenderly.

Then reality crashed back.

He pulled out. Fixed his clothes. Helped me down.

“We’re going to get caught,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“Sofia’s not stupid. She’s already suspicious.”

“I know.”

He cupped my face. “We have to stop.”

Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“Neither do I.” His voice cracked. “But we’re destroying her. And us.”

I nodded. Swallowed hard.

“One more night,” I whispered. “Tomorrow we stop. For real.”

He searched my face. Then nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

He kissed me once soft, goodbye-like.

“Go.”

I left.

Upstairs, I showered. Cried under the spray. Washed away the evidence. The guilt stayed.

I crawled into bed.

Sofia’s breathing was even across the hall.

I stared at the ceiling.

Tomorrow.

We’d end it tomorrow.

But deep down, I knew.

We wouldn’t.

We couldn’t.

The ruin had already begun.

And it felt too good to stop.