5: Luca’s Lamb

Luca

I stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of my freshly pressed designer shirt. The fabric that felt cool and crisp against my skin, did little to soothe the residual heat lingering in my veins. My gaze swept over my reflection, the dark, sharp eyes, the faint stubble tracing my jawline, the broad shoulders, and a primal satisfaction pulsed through me. Last night had been... different.

A soft knock at the door broke my trance. Giovanni, one of my most trusted men, entered, his face impassive. "Boss."

"The lady from last night," I stated, not bothering to turn around, my voice a low rumble. "Where is she? Is she awake?"

"She left, sir," Giovanni replied, his tone hesitant. "Before we could check on her. She was in quite a hurry."

A slow, predatory smirk stretched my lips as I finally turned, finishing the last button on my shirt, deliberately unhurried. "A hurry, you say?"

My mind replayed the intoxicating moments, the raw hunger that had seized me. God, the taste of her. It was still on my tongue, a ghost of sweetness mixed with something untamed and utterly innocent. I had never been one for foreplay, not in the traditional sense. My conquests were usually eager, bold, and knew exactly what they wanted from a man like me. But she... she had been a revelation.

I remembered the exact moment my mouth had found her, the desperate little gasp she had let out, a sound that had driven me insane. Her thighs had quivered, her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me closer, even as a faint whimper escaped her lips.

Fucking delectable.

I had devoured her, tasting every inch of her soft, yielding skin, exploring the delicate folds of her innocence. I had gone down on countless women who had begged and pleaded, practically wept for me to even glance in that direction, and I had always refused. It was a line I hadn't crossed yet, with her, the need had been insatiable, a magnetic force pulling me under, making me lose myself in her depths until she was a trembling, incoherent mess. Her body, so pure, so untouched, had bloomed under my touch like a flower starved for the sun.

"Is there anything you want me to do boss?" Giovanni asked pulling me from the sensual haze I was in.

I merely grunted, the smirk deepening. There was something else, something tugging at the edges of my memory. Her scent, the subtle curve of her neck, the way the light had caught her hair... oddly familiar. Like a half-forgotten dream that refused to be fully recalled. It was the same unsettling sense of déjà vu I had been plagued with for the past six months, ever since that night.

The night I had almost bled out in a back alley, only to be saved by a pair of soft, trembling hands and a voice like a whispered prayer. My vision had been blurred, the darkness overclouded my eyes but I remembered the warmth of her scarf, the quick, decisive pressure that had stopped the flow of blood. I had promised myself I would find her, compensate her, possess her, if for nothing else than to satisfy the gnawing curiosity that she had ignited.

Just then, the door opened again and Marco, another of my loyal men stepped in, I noticed the file in his hand. "Boss," Marco said, "I think you will want to see this. We found her."

My eyes narrowed, "Found who?"

Marco stepped forward, extending the folder. "The woman you have been looking for. Interestingly the woman from last night and the one you have been looking for." He paused, "She is the same, sir."

I took the file from his hand, "Are you certain, Marco?"

"Absolutely, boss. Every detail matches and her name is Sofia Chris."

Sofia Chris? I flipped open the file, my eyes scanning the crisp print, devouring the information.

Sofia Chris: Raised in the strictest traditions of the Southern Baptist Church, the family was prominent in the local congregation and known for outward piety, modesty, and unwavering obedience. Life dictated by scripture, church activities, and family expectations. Educated at home until college. Expected to marry within the community, perhaps to a pastor or a deacon's son. No known romantic entanglements except for Louis the man chosen by her family.

A low, guttural laugh escaped my throat as I read through the file. "So, a good Christian girl, eh?" My eyes flickered to Marco, a dangerous glint in them. "This is getting more interesting,” My lips widened into a smirk.

"I see that," I murmured, my gaze still fixed on Sofia's photo in the file. Her eyes, in the picture, were wide, almost innocent, I couldn’t help but think about how different she was last night, She had come to me when I least expected it, and she had let her body go combined with the raw, untamed passion she had displayed in the car... God, she was a paradox. A lamb dressed in wolf's clothing, or perhaps, a wolf hiding in a lamb's wool. Which one was it? I intended to find out.

"You can go, Marco. Both of you," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "I will go through this myself."

They nodded, turning and exiting the room quickly, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the file. The silence returned and I walked slowly towards the large, walk-in closet, my mind still reeling from the unexpected revelation. I hadn’t expected that the same woman I was looking for the past six months was the same woman who had walked up to me last night, highly intoxicated but at the same time the sexiest woman I had ever laid my eyes on.

I couldn’t help but think about what she was doing in the club, a woman like her wasn’t supposed to be found in such a setting and she was highly drunk. I knew it was her first time there if not my men would have reported back to me since the club belongs to me.

I let out a sigh as I reach into a hidden compartment, and I pulled out a small, folded piece of dark silk. It was a scarf, simple and unadorned, but it felt like a holy relic in my hands. The very one she had wrapped around my bleeding stomach that night six months ago. The silk still carried the faintest scent of her, something clean, like lilies and rain, mixed with the faint, metallic tang of my own blood. I brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It was her, it had always been her. The woman who saved me, the woman who satisfied a hunger I hadn't known I possessed.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across my face, revealing a flash of white teeth. No more endless searching, no more fruitless leads. She was here. Sofia Chris. The pious, good girl who had a hidden fire beneath her demure exterior. The woman who had given herself to me with a desperate abandon that still made my blood hum.

"My Sofia, my sunshine,” I whispered. "You don't have to search anymore, do you, my little lamb? Because I have found you. And I'm going to do anything to make you mine."

Just then, my phone vibrated in my hand, cutting through the silence. I glared at the screen, annoyed by the interruption, but recognized the caller ID. It was Callus, one of my capos.

"What is it, Callus?" I barked.

"Boss, we got hit," his voice was clipped as he replied. "A few of our men are down, and very injured. Looks like those bastards from the Moretti ambushed the warehouse on Elm Street."

My jaw tightened, "Moretti, huh?" I mused, a dangerous edge to my tone. "Fucking rodents. Tell the others to hold their positions. Don't engage further than necessary to secure the perimeter. I'm on my way."

“We will be expecting you, boss.” He replied and I hung up. I looked at the scarf one more time and placed it back where I had taken it from.

I will be back to this but for now, I need to make sure my men are fine.