Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Luca’s POV

While heading back to the estate, the only sound in the car was the soft rumble of the engine. The soft glow of the streetlights brightened the calm city streets. But my mind was anything but still. It was a storm of conflicting thoughts, a tangle of emotions I couldn’t afford to entertain.

The memory of Emma’s bare skin flashed in my mind, uninvited. Her body, the way it responded to me, the way she had melted against me despite the fire of resistance in her eyes—it all haunted me like a stubborn ghost. I had taken her, claimed her in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. She was mine. She knew it. I knew it.

But there was something about her reaction that gnawed at me.

I had anticipated that she would put up more of a struggle, to oppose me with the passion she frequently displayed in her gaze. However, there had been a hint of something different lurking below the surface, something I couldn't quite identify. Submission? No, Emma wasn’t the type to simply submit. It was more complicated than that, something darker, something she likely didn’t even understand herself.

I tightened my hold on the steering wheel as the memory of her red face came back. She had shown hate in her eyes, but there was also a sense of desperation. A need I had triggered. A need she hated herself for having, just as much as she hated me.

Good.

Let her hate me. Let her despise every moment. It only made what I was doing all the more necessary. Emma had to know her place. I didn’t care about her feelings.I didn't care about her emotions, just like I never had before. I didn't marry her because of affection or desire. I wed her to have her, to solidify her position in my life as the woman who supported me—no more, no less. 

I drove up to the driveway, with the imposing estate rising in front of me like a fortress. It was peaceful, just like it always was at this time. The guards were positioned at their stations, and I gave Matthias a nod as I walked by. I had instructed him to watch over Emma, and I had faith in him to fulfill his task. Emma was an unpredictable wildcard, which made her dangerous in ways that I couldn't manage. 

I switched off the vehicle and stepped out, sensing the cold night air biting my skin. As soon as I stepped inside the house, a heavy blanket of silence enveloped me. The only noise heard was the faint ticking of a clock coming from somewhere in the manor. The entire area seemed vacant, resembling an empty shell. 

I walked confidently down the corridors, with my next task already clear in my mind. Emma potentially could have turned in her submission this evening—whether voluntarily or involuntarily—but she required a prompt. A prompt that this was now her actuality. That I was the one she considered real. 

Approaching her room, I could hear the soft noise of water being splashed. She was taking a bath. Briefly, I imagined her underwater, her skin shining in the warmth. I dismissed the thought. This was not the moment to be distracted. 

I entered her room without knocking on the door.  I didn’t need permission to enter. This was my house. She was my wife. I had the freedom to go wherever I wanted. The room was softly illuminated, filled with the aroma of lavender, creating a strong contrast to the tension between us. 

Emma stood by the window with her robe tightly tied, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders. When I entered, she didn't look in my direction. She completely ignored me. She seemed to be anticipating, quietly getting ready for whatever was about to happen. She was good at that—playing this game of silent defiance. But I wasn’t interested in her games tonight.

“You’ve been quiet,” I said, my voice low, measured. I approached her, my steps slow, deliberate.

She didn’t respond, still staring out into the dark garden beyond the window.

“I don’t like being ignored, Emma,” I continued, my hand reaching for her shoulder. My grip was firm, and I felt her body tense under my touch. “You should know that by now.”

Still, she said nothing. The silence was thick, suffocating, and it only fueled the fire of control burning inside me.

“I threw your girlfriend out,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with venom. “I hope you enjoyed that.”

I smirked. So that’s what this was about. She was still holding on to the fact that I had brought Stephanie into our home. I should’ve expected that. Women always clung to petty grievances, as if it mattered.

“I did say that I am not and was not in a relationship with her.” I repeated as I moved closer, my breath warming her neck. "Even if I were, it wouldn't have any impact. You’re my wife, Emma. That’s your place. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Emma’s shoulders stiffened, and she turned sharply to face me, her eyes blazing with that familiar fire. “You’re a bastard, Luca. You think you can control everything, everyone. But you’re wrong.”

I bent over, my face close to hers, squeezing her shoulder tightly. “I control what I own. And I own you.”

Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and I could see the conflict in her eyes—the same conflict I’d seen earlier. She hated me, but there was something else beneath that hate. Something darker. Something I would use to my advantage.

“You can tell yourself that all you want, Luca,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her. “But you’ll never break me.”

A sharp laugh escaped my throat. “Break you? Emma, I don’t need to break you. You’re already mine. Every part of you.”

I observed as her determination weakened, her breathing got faster. The thick, palpable tension between us was not only fueled by anger. It was a more instinctual, more unprocessed feeling. She attempted to resist, resisted me, but I was aware that eventually she would surrender. She always did.

Without warning, I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer, my lips crashing against hers. The kiss was hard, punishing, just like before. And just like before, she resisted at first.However, gradually, her physical form let her down, blending into mine, her mouth opening in a manner that communicated all the information I required. 

I stepped back briefly to gaze into her eyes and catch a glimpse of the desire she was struggling to conceal. "Do you despise me?" I spoke quietly, with a deep and hushed tone. 

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. 

That's nice. I leaned closer once more, gently touching my lips to hers. 

 “Because you’ll never escape me. You’re mine, Emma. Always.”

Her lips trembled against mine, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

I had her right where I wanted her.

And I wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.