LINES WE CROSS

The atmosphere in the penthouse changed the moment the man stepped out of the elevator.

Aria froze. Instinct made her step back, one hand flying to the curve of her stomach…protective, sharp.

Luca didn’t move, but the quiet in his body was dangerous. Too still. Too controlled.

The man’s gaze flicked to Aria, then locked on Luca.

“Didn’t expect her to be here,” he said, voice calm, almost amused.

“No one expects a trespasser,” Luca bit out, stepping forward. “You’re not welcome here, Damon.”

The name dropped like a stone in the room.

Damon.

Aria felt the heat of it coil behind her ribs. Who was he? Family? Enemy?

She didn’t ask. Not yet. She was watching Luca too closely.

He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t storming. But his jaw was set, and his arm came around her waist in one quiet motion, guiding her back without a word.

It wasn’t just protective. It was instinctual. Possessive. Gentle.

“You should go,” Luca said, his voice low. “This isn’t the time.”

Damon smirked. “You think I came all the way to New York to wait for your schedule to open?”

Aria’s heart thudded faster. Luca’s hand stayed firm on her back, his thumb brushing lightly along her side steady, grounding. She hated how much she needed that anchor.

“I don’t care why you came,” Luca said. “But whatever you’re here for, it doesn’t concern her.”

Damon’s eyes swept over Aria again, slower this time.

“Everything concerns her now. Considering what she’s carrying.”

Luca moved before she registered it, a sharp step forward, fist clenched. He only stopped when she pressed a trembling hand to his chest.

“Luca,” she said softly. “Please.”

He froze. The fury in his eyes dimmed just enough for her to breathe again.

“We’re done,” Luca told Damon, voice gravelly. “Whatever you think this is, it ends here.”

Damon shrugged. “For now.” He tipped an invisible hat toward Aria. “Pleasure meeting you.”

When the elevator doors closed behind him, silence crashed through the penthouse like a wave.

Luca turned immediately. “Are you alright?”

Aria nodded, though her pulse was still racing. “Who was that?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He’s not your problem.”

“I think the part where he shows up in our home makes him a little bit my problem.”

Luca frowned. “You’re shaking.”

She hadn’t noticed. But now that he said it, her limbs felt like they’d been rung out. She reached for the wall to steady herself, but Luca was already there lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

“Luca”

“You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

“I’m pregnant, not dying.”

“You’re four and a half months pregnant,” he said quietly. “And you were just startled by a man I should’ve kept far away from us.”

His voice wasn’t angry this time. It was guilt..thick, unfiltered.

He carried her to the couch, kneeling in front of her once she was settled. His hands moved over her arms, her legs, her belly—checking, grounding, careful.

“Did he scare you?” he asked, eyes fixed on hers.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But not the way you think.”

He waited.

“I’m scared of how quickly you go dark,” she said. “I’m scared that I don’t know what I’ve stepped into.”

Something in Luca’s expression softened. “You’ve stepped into my world. And I’m doing everything I can to make it safer for you than it ever was for me.”

Her throat tightened. “Then let me in, Luca. You keep saying you care—but I need more than locked doors and armed drivers. I need to feel like I still exist outside this contract.”

He looked like she had slapped him.

Then, slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the curve of her belly.

“I never wanted to cage you,” he murmured. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted something that felt like peace.”

Her fingers slid into his hair before she could stop herself. She should have pulled away.

Instead, she let herself feel the weight of him—the truth in his touch.

They stayed like that for a long moment, quiet, tethered by something tender and dangerous.

Then Luca pulled back, cleared his throat, and said, “You’re going to prenatal yoga tomorrow.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“With a registered trainer. In-home. Twice a week. You’ll hate it. But your back will thank me in a month.”

“You don’t get to make that decision alone.”

“Good,” he said, a dry smile tugging at his mouth. “Because I also scheduled a maternity massage and a nutritionist.”

She stared. “Are you… nesting?”

“No,” he replied, scrolling through his phone. “I’m managing.”

She almost laughed. And then she did.

The next day passed in a strange, quiet way.

Luca worked from home, files and devices spread across the dining table.

He looked up often, asked if she was hungry, reminded her to rest, and listened when she said no.

She caught him watching her twice.

Once, when she sat with a book and absently rubbed her belly.

And once, when she laughed at a message from her mother, who had been texting more often since their reunion.

That second time caught her off guard—because Luca smiled too.

Not the tight, polite smiles he wore in boardrooms.

Something real. Something open.

That night, they sat on the balcony.

She had a blanket over her lap.

He brought her a mug of ginger, lemon, and honey—because he remembered she hated plain chamomile.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“Thinking.”

“About Damon?”

“No,” he said. “About you. About how to stop screwing this up.”

Her eyes widened at the honesty.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he said quietly. “But I want to learn how to love you right. Even if we didn’t start that way.”

Her heart stuttered. “What makes you think I want that?”

He turned, gaze clear and steady.

“Because you haven’t walked away. And every time I touch you, you lean in instead of back.”

Her breath caught.

“I notice things, Aria,” he said softly. “Especially the things I’m afraid to lose.”

Before she could answer, the elevator chimed again.

They both stiffened.

Luca stood first, protective instinct flaring.

But this time, it wasn’t a stranger.

Maria stepped out and she wasn’t alone. Behind her stood a woman Aria hadn’t seen in years.

“Eva?” Aria whispered.

Her best friend’s eyes filled. “Surprise.”

Aria turned to Luca, stunned. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You said you missed your life,” he murmured. “I thought maybe… we could bring some of it to you.”

She couldn’t speak.

Because this wasn’t regulated.

This was care.

Later, as Eva and Maria settled into the guest suite, Aria lingered in the hall. The penthouse was quiet, soft light spilling from the sconces.

She heard Luca’s voice before she saw him—low, commanding, dangerous in its calm.

“…make sure no one gets close to her again. Not Damon. Not anyone. If he comes back, I want to know before he even breathes her name.”

Aria froze.

Maybe Luca was learning to love softly.

But some parts of him would always be ruthless.

And that was the part she still wasn’t sure she could live with.