Semua Bab Ruined By Desire : Bab 1 - Bab 9

The music pulsed through the villa like a second heartbeat, bass thumping low and insistent under the chatter of too many people pretending they weren’t watching each other. I should have been dancing. Laughing. Being the carefree best friend everyone expected Sofia’s birthday to turn into a glittering distraction.Instead, I stood frozen at the edge of the terrace, glass of champagne forgotten in my hand, staring at the man who had just stepped through the French doors like he owned the night itself.Luca Moretti.Sofia’s father.The man I’d spent the last two years convincing myself I didn’t notice. Not the way his dark suit hugged shoulders that carried too much weight, not the way his jaw tightened when he scanned a room like he was cataloging threats, not the way his eyes storm-gray and unreadable had once caught mine across a crowded dinner table and held them a beat too long.He shouldn’t be here. Sofia had sworn he was in Milan on business. Yet there he was, loosening his tie

The patio table was a battlefield of half-eaten pastries and cooling coffee, but the real war was happening under the surface.Sofia sat cross-legged on her chair, scrolling through photos from last night on her phone, laughing at blurry selfies. “Look at this Marco looks like he’s about to fall into the pool. And you, Val, you’re glowing in that red dress. Seriously, you should wear red more often.”I managed a weak smile, poking at a croissant I had no intention of eating. “Maybe.”Luca sat across from us, newspaper open but unread, eyes flicking between the pages and me every few seconds. Each glance felt like a spark against dry tinder.He hadn’t spoken to me since the kitchen. Not a word. Just that long, unblinking look when Sofia wasn’t watching—like he was memorizing the exact shade of guilt on my face.I hated how aware I was of him. The way his fingers curled around the mug. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. The slow, deliberate way he breathed, as if he was holding

The first light of morning slipped through the curtains like a thief, pale and hesitant. I woke with a start, heart already racing before my eyes fully opened. The guest bed felt too big, too empty. My body still carried the memory of Luca’s hands his fingers inside me, the low growl in his throat when I came apart on his lap.I pressed my thighs together. The ache lingered, sweet and shameful.Sofia’s room was quiet. I slipped out, padded to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face. The mirror showed a stranger: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes too bright. Evidence.I dressed quickly leggings, oversized hoodie, hair tied back. Armor again. Downstairs, the house smelled of fresh coffee and something baking. Sofia was in the kitchen, humming off-key, pouring batter into muffin tins.“Morning, sleepyhead!” she called without turning. “Dad’s out for a run. He said he’d bring back those fancy pastries from the bakery if we’re nice.”I froze in the doorway. “He’s… running?”“Yeah. Sa

Monday morning arrived like a judgment.Sofia had early classes at the university, so she left before dawn quick hug, “See you tonight, don’t let Dad bore you with his boring meetings,” and the front door clicked shut behind her. The house fell silent except for the distant hum of the pool filter and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.I stayed in bed longer than I should have. Stared at the ceiling. Traced the faint bruises on my hips from Luca’s grip last night. They were already darkening purple fingerprints, a map of where he’d held me too tight. Proof. Evidence I couldn’t wash away.Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Coffee pot still warm. A single mug on the counter with “Drink” written on a sticky note in Luca’s sharp handwriting.I poured. Took a sip. Burned my tongue. Didn’t care.Footsteps on the stairs.He appeared in the doorway black trousers, gray button-down, sleeves rolled. Hair still damp from the shower. Eyes shadowed like he hadn’t slept either.We stared at eac

The house felt like a tomb after Sofia left.Doors stayed open. Lights burned in empty rooms. The coffee mug she’d been using sat on the counter, lipstick print still on the rim faded pink, the same shade she’d worn to her birthday party. I couldn’t bring myself to wash it. Luca didn’t either.We moved through the space like ghosts.He spent most of the day in his study door closed, phone off, pretending to work. I heard him pacing sometimes. The low murmur of his voice when he tried calling her. Voicemail. Every time.I sat on the patio for hours. Stared at the pool until the water blurred. Remembered the first night his thumb on my lip, the way he’d said “You should run while you still can.” I hadn’t. And now the ruin had spread.Evening came slow. Gray clouds rolled in. No rain. Just pressure.Luca appeared at the patio doors around seven. Shirt sleeves rolled, collar open, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.“She’s not answering,” he said. Voice flat.I nodded. “I texted her. No