Chapter 4 – Standing Where She Shouldn’t

Layla doesn’t intend to be alone with him.

It happens slowly, the way dangerous things often do. Sofia’s mum is mid-story in the kitchen, animated and laughing. Sofia is arguing with someone on the phone, her voice rising with familiar irritation. Layla slips away quietly, drawn back toward the living room and the stretch of glass overlooking the city.

The skyline glows below, distant and unreal. It makes everything feel smaller. Safer. Like consequences can’t quite reach this high.

She’s resting her hands against the cool window when she senses him behind her.

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Luca says.

She turns. He’s a few steps away, jacket still off, sleeves rolled, the open collar of his shirt revealing the faint line of his throat. He looks younger like this. Less formal. No less controlled.

“I wasn’t leaving,” she replies. “Just needed a minute.”

“You didn’t ask,” he says calmly.

“I didn’t realise I had to.”

His gaze sharpens slightly. Not anger. Interest.

“You walked into a quiet space,” he says. “In my house, that’s rarely accidental.”

Layla’s pulse quickens. “I just wanted to look at the view.”

“You can do that anywhere,” he replies. “You chose here.”

She doesn’t know how to answer that, so she doesn’t. She turns back to the window, aware of the space closing between them. Not because he moves closer. Because she doesn’t.

She knows she’s standing too close the moment she stops moving.

The shift is subtle but undeniable. The air tightens. Luca doesn’t step back. He never does. He only looks down at her, dark eyes steady and unreadable, as if he’s been waiting to see whether she’d do exactly this.

“You’re doing it again,” he says quietly.

“Doing what?” Her voice betrays her, soft, breathless.

“Standing where you shouldn’t.” His gaze drops briefly to her mouth. “And pretending you don’t know.”

Heat coils low in her stomach. “Maybe I don’t care.”

That gets his attention. Something sharp flickers across his expression, control tightening.

He reaches out slowly, deliberately, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. His fingers hook lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. The touch is barely there, but it steals her breath all the same.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “That’s not something you say to men like me.”

“Why?” she whispers. “Because you might misunderstand?”

His thumb traces the edge of her jaw. “No,” he says. “Because I won’t.”

His hand stays there, steady, grounding. She feels the restraint in him now, the effort it takes to remain exactly where he is and no closer.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he continues softly. “The way you look at me. The way you stop listening when I’m too close.”

Her pulse races. “And you?”

A beat. Then honesty, quiet and dangerous.

“I notice everything.”

His thumb drifts nearer, hovering just short of her lower lip without touching. The anticipation is almost unbearable.

“There are lines I don’t cross lightly,” Luca says. “And once I do, Layla, I don’t step back.”

She swallows, eyes locked on his. “Then why are you still here?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he leans in just enough that his breath ghosts her skin.

“Because you haven’t asked me to stop.”

The sound of Sofia’s laughter echoes faintly down the hall. Reality snaps back into place.

Luca lets his hand fall and steps away first.

“You should go back,” he says. “Before she starts looking for you.”

Layla nods, legs unsteady as she turns.

As she walks away, one thought settles with dangerous clarity.

She didn’t ask him to stop.