5: Practice Makes Perfect

Maria barely registered the nod of acknowledgment she gave before Luca spoke again, his voice calm but edged with something deeper.

“How long did you say you two were together?”

Maria exhaled softly, fingers brushing the polished surface of his desk.

“Ten years.”

Luca’s brows furrowed, his brown eyes darkening as he tilted his head slightly, processing her words.

"Ten years?" His voice held an edge of disbelief, almost as if he was confirming something for himself. “And you never had kids?”

Maria’s throat tightened. She shook her head.

“Edwards wanted to wait a while.”

Luca went very still. His gaze burned into her like the midday sun.

Then, in a voice that sent shivers down her spine, he said,

"Marie, ten years isn’t ‘a while.’" He leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming. “It’s a decade.”

The weight of those words pressed against her.

Maria opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Luca suddenly grabbed her by the waist. A surprised gasp barely escaped her lips before he hoisted her up, settling her onto the polished wood of his desk.

Her breath hitched.

His movements were effortless, possessive, as if he had done this a thousand times in his head and was only now allowing himself the satisfaction of acting on it.

He stepped between her legs, his body heat wrapping around her like a slow-burning fire.

Maria tensed, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

His fingers traced up her thighs, lazy and deliberate, spreading warmth where they touched.

“You need to get used to me touching you,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low.

Maria swallowed hard. The air between them felt thick.

This was practice.

She had to get used to his hands on her, his presence in her space. It was all for show.

But when she nodded, the truth slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

"I know."

Luca’s gaze sharpened. His fingers tightened slightly against her skin, as if daring her to say more.

Maria’s mind raced.

They had to sell this. If anyone ever doubted them, it could ruin everything.

She had to get used to him.

She had to.

So before she could overthink it, she arched her back, her fingers reaching for him.

Then she grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him down into a kiss.

Luca froze.

For just a second.

Then, a slow chuckle vibrated against her lips before he melted into her.

His lips were warm, firm, moving with a controlled hunger that sent shivers down Maria’s spine.

He didn’t kiss her like a man faking an engagement.

He kissed her like a man who had been waiting.

It started slow, teasing—his hands gripping her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles against her dress as if testing her resolve.

Maria didn’t pull away.

Instead, she deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling into his soft, thick hair.

Luca groaned, his hand sliding lower, gripping the back of her thigh, pulling her flush against him.

Maria’s mind swam, dizzy from the heat.

She told herself it was practice.

That she was just getting used to him, to the illusion they had to create.

But Luca was different.

Kissing him felt different.

He wasn’t Edwards.

Edwards’ kisses had always been controlled, fleeting, something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

But Luca?

Luca claimed.

Luca kissed like he wanted to consume her.

His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss, his breath mixing with hers, his scent, a mix of something dark, musky, intoxicating flooding her senses.

Maria’s stomach tightened.

Then—

Luca’s hand trailed lower.

He skimmed over her knee, up her inner thigh, his fingers dragging slowly against her skin, rough and warm.

When he reached under the hem of her dress—

He stilled.

Maria’s breath caught as his fingers ghosted against bare skin.

There was nothing there.

No undergarments.

Luca pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

“Well,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, “that’s interesting.”

Maria felt her cheeks heat, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t close her legs.

Didn’t stop him.

Luca took that as an invitation.

He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to the edge of the desk, his fingers wandering further, tracing over her sensitive skin until he found—

Soft cotton.

He let out a low chuckle, brushing his fingers over the thin fabric of her underwear.

“So, you’re not completely reckless.” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper beneath it.

Maria’s stomach tightened.

She should stop this.

She should push him away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her legs parted just a little wider, granting him access.

Luca took it.

With deliberate slowness, he hooked a single finger around the side of her underwear, tugging it aside, exposing her.

Maria’s breath hitched, her thighs trembling slightly.

His fingers skimmed over bare skin, teasing, not quite touching where she needed him to.

Luca’s gaze flicked up to hers, dark and unreadable.

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, his voice barely above a whisper—

"You’re letting me touch you like this, Marie."

It wasn’t a question.

It was a realization.

A dangerous one.

Maria swallowed hard, her fingers digging into his shoulders, ready for more—

Then—

The door burst open.

Maria yelped, jerking away.

Luca cursed under his breath, his hand immediately withdrawing as he turned toward the door, his jaw tight.

A woman stood there, frozen mid-step.

She was petite, barely reaching Luca’s chest, with sharp brown eyes lined in kohl. Her sleek, jet-black hair was cut into a perfect bob, brushing against her jawline.

She wore a pale green blouse tucked into high-waisted black slacks, the kind that hugged her frame with tailored precision. A pair of Louboutin heels added just enough height to keep her from being completely dwarfed by Luca’s towering frame.

A tablet was clutched tightly against her chest.

Her eyes flicked between Luca and Maria.

Maria, still on the desk, dress slightly rucked up.

Luca, standing between her legs.

Silence.

Gina blinked.

Maria wanted to sink into the floor.

Luca exhaled through his nose, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Gina," he said smoothly, tone laced with amusement. "Meet Maria."

Maria barely had time to process before Luca added,

"My fiancée."

Gina’s brows shot up so fast it was almost comical.

Maria, on the other hand, felt something inside her tighten.

Not because of the title itself.

But because of the way Luca had said it.

There was no hesitation.

No second-guessing.

It was effortless.

As if he had always planned to call her that.

Maria clenched her fists at her sides, forcing her face into a polite smile.

She reminded herself this was all part of the game.

But then why did it feel like she was the one being played?