Blood oath and broken rules

Luciano didn’t sleep that night.

He sat in his private study, a glass of untouched whiskey on the desk, the shadows of the room swallowing him whole.

Aria's taste still clung to his lips.  

The feel of her body — soft, trembling, willing — was burned into his skin.

He'd crossed a line.

A line he couldn't uncross.

She was his wife by contract. His responsibility. His shield against a world that wanted them both dead.

And yet...

The memory of her moan against his mouth, her reckless defiance giving way to raw need, played over and over in his mind like a curse.

Luciano slammed his glass down so hard it shattered, amber liquid spilling across the desk.

"Fuck," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

He had built his empire on discipline. On control.  

And now — because of one reckless, infuriating girl — he was losing it.

He was supposed to protect her.

Not want her.  

Not crave her like a dying man craved air.

A knock came at the door.

Before he could answer, Aria pushed it open and slipped inside, wearing nothing but a long black T-shirt that barely reached her thighs.

Luciano's fists clenched at his sides.

"You're supposed to knock," he said, voice dangerously low.

Aria shrugged, stepping deeper into the room. "You didn’t say I had to ask permission to talk to my husband."

The way she said *husband* — soft and taunting — made something dark curl in his gut.

"What do you want, Aria?" he demanded.

She hesitated, then came to stand across the desk from him. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish.

"You kissed me," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "You *wanted* me."

Luciano exhaled sharply through his nose, struggling to keep a leash on himself.

"It was a mistake," he said roughly. "It won’t happen again."

Aria laughed — a broken, bitter sound.

"You're lying."

Luciano’s jaw tightened.

"You think I don't see it?" she said, stepping around the desk until she was standing right in front of him. "You look at me like you want to tear me apart. You think I don't feel it every time you touch me?"

Her hands landed on his chest, palms flat against the steady hammer of his heart.

"You want me, Luciano," she whispered. "Admit it."

Luciano grabbed her wrists and pushed her back, breathing hard.

"This isn’t a game," he snarled. "You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"Then show me," she dared him, eyes blazing. "Show me what happens when I play with fire."

For a long, shattering moment, Luciano stared at her — the girl he wasn’t supposed to want.  

The woman he couldn’t resist.

Then, with a sound halfway between a growl and a groan, he slammed his mouth down on hers.

This kiss was different.  

There was no hesitation. No holding back.

Luciano lifted her off her feet, carrying her across the room, knocking over a chair and a lamp as he pinned her against the wall.

Aria clung to him, gasping against his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he rasped against her throat.

"Good," she breathed. "I hope you suffer."

Luciano laughed — a dark, broken sound — and kissed her again, harder this time.

Clothes were a blur. Hands desperate. Mouths frantic.  

When he finally buried himself inside her, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was raw. Brutal. Necessary.

Aria cried out, clutching at him as he thrust into her with savage, claiming strokes.

Luciano pressed his forehead against hers, cursing under his breath.

"You’re mine," he growled. "You understand me, Aria? Mine."

"Yes," she gasped, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes — from the pain, from the pleasure, from everything.

She had been untouched — until him.  

And now, she was marked. Owned.

When he came, it was with a roar that shook the walls.

When Aria shattered around him, it was with his name on her lips.

Afterward, Luciano cradled her against his chest, breathing hard.

He had sworn to protect her.  

Instead, he had ruined her.

And God help him — he would ruin her again.

***

The next morning was chaos.

Luciano was already out of bed when Aria woke, pulling on a black tactical vest over his clothes.

She sat up, wincing at the delicious ache between her thighs.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice rough with sleep.

Luciano didn’t look at her as he checked the pistol at his waist.

"Business," he said shortly.

Aria’s stomach twisted.  

She recognized that tone. Cold. Distant.

Like last night had been a mistake he intended to erase.

"Luciano—" she started, sliding out of bed.

He turned, finally meeting her eyes.

And for a moment, she saw it — the war inside him.  

The want. The guilt. The fear.

"I’ll be back tonight," he said, voice gentler. "Stay inside. Don’t open the door for anyone."

Aria opened her mouth to argue, but he was already gone.

The door clicked shut behind him like the slamming of a prison gate.

***

Hours later, Aria paced the halls like a caged animal.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it in her bones — the heavy silence, the way the guards shifted uneasily at the edges of her vision.

When the phone rang, she lunged for it.

"Luciano?" she breathed.

But it wasn’t his voice on the other end.

It was the voice of a man she hadn’t heard in years.  

A voice from the darkest corner of her past.

"Hello, princess," the man said. "Miss me?"

Aria’s blood ran cold.

It was Dario Ventresca — the son of a rival mafia boss who had once tried to kidnap her for ransom.

Luciano had almost killed him for it.

Clearly, *almost* wasn’t enough.

"What do you want?" she demanded, gripping the phone so tightly it creaked.

Dario chuckled. "Isn’t it obvious? I want you, sweetheart. And since your husband is too busy playing king, I figured I’d come collect what he forgot."

Fear coiled in her stomach.

"Stay away from me," she spat.

But Dario only laughed again.  

"I’ll see you soon, princess."

The line went dead.

Aria stood frozen, the phone slipping from her fingers.

She knew what was coming.  

She knew she had to warn Luciano.

But as she rushed toward the door, she found it barred shut. Locked from the outside.

The guards were gone.

The mansion was empty.

And she was trapped.

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