LOGINLuca Moretti is the kind of man women are warned about. A billionaire playboy with a permanent smirk, a yacht full of secrets, and a reputation built on reckless nights and broken hearts, Luca lives for pleasure—not commitment. The tabloids worship him. The world envies him. And he’s never met a woman he couldn’t charm… until Sienna Vale. Independent, ambitious, and completely unimpressed by his money, Sienna crashes into Luca’s glamorous world by accident—and instantly becomes the one woman he can’t stop thinking about. What begins as shameless flirting and irresistible chemistry quickly spirals into something far more dangerous. Late nights in Monaco. Private jets. Hidden kisses. Headlines. Fights that burn as hot as their passion. For the first time in his life, Luca wants more than one night. But loving a man like Luca comes with a price. Because behind the charm and luxury is a man terrified of being truly known. And the deeper Sienna falls into his world, the harder it becomes to protect her heart from the chaos surrounding him. He was supposed to be a temporary mistake. Instead, he became her greatest temptation. And she might ruin herself loving him.
View MoreMonaco was a different beast at night. It shimmered like it knew it was expensive. Sienna Vale was
walking across the marina walkway adjusting her camera bag on her shoulder, all the while trying
not to stare at the yachts bobbing in the dark water. The entire place screamed wealth and it was
somewhere that Sienna normally avoided.
"Out of the way, darling!" A woman dripping in diamonds clipped Sienna's shoulder with a silver
purse before disappearing into a crowd of designer dresses.
Her editor at Noir Magazine, Theo, had asked her to photograph a fashion show at the Monte Carlo
Bay Hotel and while it wasn't glamorous work—half the job was pretending influencers were
important—it just about paid enough to cover rent on her apartment. The event had finished but Theo had begged her to get "a few atmospheric marina shots" before
going home.
Which was why she was wandering through Monaco at midnight in boots that were slowly
murdering her feet.
She lifted her camera and took photos of harbor lights reflecting against the water. It was a
gorgeous photo. At the edge of the photo, a yacht was just out of focus. White and huge. Music
spilled from the upper level while guests danced beneath the low lights. Models, actors, rich
strangers all drinking champagne like water. Theo had mentioned an afterparty aboard a yacht
called Euphoria. Maybe this was it.
No one stopped her stepping aboard which was typical. If you looked confident enough, everyone
assumed you belonged. The second she stepped inside however, she regretted it. Everything
screamed private. Not influencer-event private. Billionaire private. Crystal chandeliers reflected
across polished floors while waiters carried champagne through crowds dressed in couture.
She should leave.
Instead, she lifted her camera instinctively. Candids were her weakness. Genuine
moments hidden beneath luxury fascinated her, which is why her 3 month stay in Monaco had
stretched to almost 12 months. A couple laughing beside the railing. A woman kicking off her heels
beneath a table. A bored man scrolling through his phone. People were the same everywhere. Just
dressed more expensively here.
"Nice camera." The deep male voice behind her nearly made her drop it.
Sienna turned sharply. Tall, dark messy hair, broad shoulders draped in a black button-down shirt
open at the collar and an expensive watch glinting beneath the cuff.
He was unfairly handsome in a dangerous sort of way—the kind of face tabloids probably loved, or
loved to hate.
"You own this boat?" she asked.
His mouth tilted. "Unfortunately."
That explained the confidence.
"Look, I thought this was connected to the fashion launch down the harbor."
"And now?"
"Now I realize I accidentally wandered into a billionaire cult meeting."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"You always insult strangers?" he asked.
"Only the obscenely wealthy ones."
His gaze drifted slowly over her face, lingering long enough to make heat crawl up her neck.
"You're staring."
"You're beautiful."
The response came instantly. Smooth. Effortless. And somehow, while her traitorous cheeks pinked
with a blush, that irritated her more.
She rolled her eyes. "Do lines like that actually work on women?"
"Usually."
"Tragic."
Another laugh. He was definitely not offended. A waiter passed carrying champagne flutes, and the
man grabbed two before offering one to her.
"I don't accept drinks from strangers."
"Luca Moretti," he said calmly.
The name hit instantly. He was a Monaco billionaire, investor, playboy, tabloid disaster.
"Oh," she said flatly.
His eyebrow lifted. "That bad?"
"You're the fountain scandal guy."
Now he looked amused. "That's what you know me for?"
"You dated a supermodel and crashed a Ferrari into a fountain."
"It was barely a crash."
"You said that publicly."
"I had excellent lawyers."
Sienna scoffed before she could stop herself. Luca watched her carefully then, fascinated by the fact she wasn't impressed.
"You're not impressed by any of this?" he asked, gesturing around the yacht.
She barely glanced at the glittering lights and designer gowns.
"I mean... the boat's nice."
"That sounded painful for you to admit."
"You have no idea."
A smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it. Unfortunately, his smile did terrible things to
her composure.
"You still haven't told me your name," he said.
"Sienna."
He repeated it slower. "You belong to the fashion event?"
"I photographed it for Noir Magazine."
"Photographer." His eyes flicked toward her camera. "That explains why you've been watching everyone like a scientist observing rich people in captivity."
"Because that's exactly what this is."
Luca leaned slightly closer. Close enough for her to catch the scent of expensive cologne and
whiskey.
"Tell me honestly, Sienna." His voice lowered. "Did you really wander onto this yacht accidentally?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
A slow grin spread across his face. "That's disappointing."
Before she could answer, a woman in a silver dress stormed toward Luca speaking furious Italian.
Luca sighed. "And there goes my peaceful evening."
The woman noticed Sienna instantly. Her expression sharpened.
"Another one?" she snapped.
Sienna nearly choked. "Absolutely not."
Luca looked entertained again. The woman muttered something else before stalking away
dramatically.
"Should I ask?" Sienna said.
"I wouldn't advise it."
Wind swept across the marina, lifting strands of Sienna's hair. Luca watched her for a long second.
The atmosphere shifted. Quieter. Heavier.
"You should leave before the tabloids decide you're my latest bad decision," Luca said softly.
That surprised her.
"You're kicking me out?"
"I'm protecting your innocence."
She laughed lightly. "You assume I'm innocent."
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
"Trust me," he murmured, "you don't want your name linked to mine."
The honesty in that should have felt arrogant. Instead, it felt dangerous. Sienna stepped backward.
Luca's eyes never left hers.
"Well," she said, adjusting her camera strap, "thanks for not having security throw me overboard."
She started to turn away. Luca's grin returned slowly.
"Where are you going, wrong party girl?"
The Menton morning light had changed over the past year. It still arrived softly, still slipped through the curtains in warm ribbons, still brushed the wooden floors with a golden glow — but now it touched a home that had grown fuller, louder, richer. A home that had learned the rhythm of family.Sienna woke slowly, her body warm beneath the sheets, her mind drifting in that quiet space between sleep and waking. She blinked against the soft light and turned her head.Luca was already awake.He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching the small figure curled between them. Their daughter — now toddling, curious, endlessly expressive — slept with her cheek pressed against Luca’s chest, her tiny hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt. Her dark curls were a wild halo around her face, her breaths
The late‑afternoon light drifted lazily through the Menton house, warm and golden, settling across the wooden floors like a soft blanket. The sea outside shimmered in the distance, calm and endless, its rhythm a steady heartbeat beneath the quiet of the home. Sienna stood by the open balcony doors, swaying gently with her daughter in her arms, the baby’s tiny fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt.It had been two weeks since they returned from the hospital. Two weeks of sleepless nights and soft mornings. Two weeks of learning the shape of their new life. Two weeks of falling in love with someone so small she fit perfectly in the crook of Sienna’s elbow.Luca appeared behind her, his footsteps soft, his presence warm. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked down at their daughter.
The house was finally quiet.It was the kind of quiet that only came in the soft hours of the evening, when the sun had dipped low behind the Menton hills and the sea outside the windows had settled into a gentle, rhythmic hush. Their daughter slept in the bassinet beside the sofa, wrapped in a pale blanket, her tiny breaths steady and warm. The living room glowed with the soft amber light of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the walls.Sienna sat curled into the corner of the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, her body still aching in ways she hadn’t known were possible. Luca sat beside her, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, the other resting lightly on her thigh, his thumb tracing slow, absent‑minded circles.It had been three days since they brought their daughter home.
The world felt impossibly small in the quiet hours before dawn, the Menton house wrapped in a hush so complete it felt sacred. Sienna lay in the hospital bed, exhausted and trembling, her hair damp against her forehead, her body still humming with the shock of what it had just done. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp and the faint spill of early morning light through the blinds.Luca sat beside her, his hand wrapped around hers, his thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles. His eyes were red, his hair a mess, his shirt wrinkled from hours of pacing and worrying and refusing to leave her side.But he was smiling a soft, stunned, reverent smile. Sienna followed his gaze to the small bassinet beside the bed where their baby lay. Their daughter.Tiny, perfect, wrapped in a pale blanket, her little chest r






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