Chapter 5

l was having a hard time coming to terms with the reality of my situation.

I stood there, feeling the giant shirt clinging to my skin. It smelled like what l assume is him. His clothes were swallowing me whole, transforming my usual tailored appearance into something shapeless and messy. I hated being out of control. I hated being dependent.

“I only have one bedroom, Ava,” Luca said, his voice cutting through my  thoughts. He was stacking firewood neatly by the fireplace. The way his back muscles tensed under his own shirt was maddeningly distracting.

“Then where are you suggesting I sleep?” I asked, attempting to regain some of the bossy composure that usually served me so well. It came out less demanding and more whiny, like the spoiled princess he thinks l am.

Luca straightened, turning to face me. His ocean-blue eyes narrowed slightly, assessing me in a condescending manner.

“We’re going to figure it out, princess,” he said, the nickname still grating. “The cabin isn’t massive. See that door?” He pointed to the room l just left. “That’s the only bedroom. It has one queen bed.”

My stomach tightened. “You and your son share a bed?”

He nodded. “It’s what we do here. It’s small, but Leon likes it. He calls it our man cave.”

The small boy, Leon, giggled from where he was sitting at the table, now coloring pictures with crayons. He held up a drawing a clumsy triangle that I assumed was the cabin, with stick figures inside.

“I draw you” Leon announced proudly, his gap-toothed smile bright.

I offered a tight, polite smile back, the kind I reserved for distant relatives and overly enthusiastic clients. I was utterly unprepared for this level of uncomplicated sweetness. He really was adorable.

“Well, you can’t all sleep on the floor for me,” I stated, crossing my arms.

Luca leaned against the stone mantlepiece, looking utterly relaxed, despite the storm raging outside and the distressed socialite invading his quiet Christmas.

“No, we won’t,” he confirmed. “Leon is too small for the pull-out couch. He’d freeze. And you are not sleeping on the couch, you need to stay warm to fend off a fever.”

“And you?”

“I’ll take the couch,” he decided easily. “You take the bed.”

My protest died in my throat. This was the problem with men like him—the quiet, uncomplicated protectors. They made it impossible to maintain a transactional mindset. He genuinely didn't want anything from me, except perhaps common decency.

“Luca, that’s ridiculous,” I managed. “It’s freezing outside. You shouldn’t have to give up your bed.”

“I’m fine, Ava. I’ve slept in colder places. .” He tapped his broad chest. “Besides, I run hot. All that muscle, you know.”

He winked, and the sudden shift to playful flirtation hit me like a physical blow. The magnetic pull intensified, dragging the air out of my lungs. I imagined that muscle pressed against me, heating the snow out of my bones.

Stop it, Ava. You just got played by you ‘seemingly perfect’ fiance. You are not jumping into the arms of the first available hot stranger.

“Fine,” I clipped out. “But tomorrow, we switch. Or I sleep onthe floor. I won't be a charity case.”

“We’ll see,” Luca murmured, clearly not taking my threat seriously.

The immediate tension eased momentarily when Leon hopped off his chair, carrying his drawing. He padded over to me, holding it up like an offering.

“Here,” he whispered.

I looked at the scrawled pencil marks. The little cabin, the three stick people. One of the stick people, the one wearing a dress (presumably me, though I was in giant flannel), had a massive, exaggerated smile drawn onto her face.

“Thank you, Leon,” I said, and to my complete shock, the corner of my mouth actually twitched upward. It was genuine, small, and utterly involuntary. This kid. He was managing to bypass my emotional barricades with a single crayon drawing.

“You’re funny when you eat stew,” Leon informed me, returning to the table.

I blinked. Was that a compliment? I decided to take it as one.

Luca watched the exchange, a soft, almost tender expression on his face. When his eyes met mine, the tenderness vanished, replaced by the familiar intensity.

"Married." He asked but before I could stop myself. l replied with "Engaged."

“Your engagement ring,” Luca said abruptly. “You don’t have it.”

The casual question ripped the air from the small, warm room. I unconsciously rubbed the bare finger where the three-carat diamond had sat just days ago.

“No. I don’t, l broke my engagement actually ” I stated, when reality came crushing down. 

“Good,” Luca said simply.

“Why is that ‘good’?” I challenged, stiffening my spine.

“Because you look like the type of woman who belongs to herself, not to a piece of s**t” he replied, looking away to the fire. His perception was unsettling. He saw too much, too fast.

“You’re quick to judge,” I scoffed.

“I’m a hockey player, Ava. Judging distance and intent is how I avoid broken teeth.” He turned back. “I also know when someone is running from something, and it’s not just the blizzard.”

I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I retreated to the doorway of the bedroom my temporary, borrowed sanctuary.

“I’m going to lay down,” I announced because I was feeling something that I didn't want to feel at that moment and I had to escape.

“Good idea. The bed is warm. I changed the sheets for you.”

I paused in the doorway and looked back at him. He had changed the sheets. For me. A stranger. The little acts of uncomplicated care were chipping away at my resolve. They made me feel soft, and softness was dangerous.

“Thank you,” I repeated, hating how genuine the gratitude felt.

The bedroom was small, fitting the queen bed and a tiny wooden dresser. It was immaculate and cozy, smelling faintly of cedar and Luca’s masculine scent. He had left a pair of thick, clean wool socks folded neatly on the duvet.

I slipped off the borrowed track pants and crawled into the bed, pulling the thick quilt up to my chin. It was warm. The feeling of safety was instant, a blanket around my vulnerability.

I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. I heard the muffled sounds of Luca and Leon in the main room and Leon’s quiet attempts at song, the deep rumbling sound of Luca’s laughter. It was domestic. Warm.

My father was never like this. After my mother died, he just vanished into his grief and his business dealings. When my younger brother was born my dad’s new, perfect son I became invisible. I grew up with expensive nannies and a credit card, but no gentle, masculine hand guiding the crayon. I learned quickly that the world was transactional, cold, and lonely.

I saw Luca push the small twin-sized pull-out couch away from the windows, placing it horizontally directly against my bedroom door. It wasn't blocking the door, but it was positioned right there, placing him mere feet away from me.

He pulled off his jackects revealing the fitted long-sleeved shirt underneath that showcased every sculpted line of his body and chest. He was a sight and watching him had me drooling.

He didn’t look at the bedroom. He looked at Leon, who was already curled up on the small couch with a blanket and a teddy bear.

“Alright, buddy. Sleep now. Tomorrow, maybe the snow will let up for a bit, and we can build a snow fort.”

“Night, daddy,” Leon mumbled, eyes already drooping.

Luca kissed the top of his head, then moved back to the fire, stoking it to last the night. He glanced toward my door, not quite meeting my eye, but I felt the weight of his attention nonetheless.

Finally, he laid down on the little couch by the door. He didn't look comfortable but he didn't complain.

The wind howled and snow battered the windows. Yet, inside, in this single, small room, I felt protected.

The attraction l felt for Luca was clouding me and it was already just a few hours.

This man, who thought I was a spoiled princess and didn't want my money, was sleeping outside the door to protect me.

I gripped the blanket tighter, trying to squash the rising desire l felt. I was supposed to be processing betrayal, not contemplating plotting how to seduce my handsome, accidental savior.