Chapter 8
The next morning, Luca caught Hilary slipping out of my bedroom. His jaw clenched, face turning the color of concrete. Despite the fresh hickeys visible on his own neck, he had the balls to demand:
“What the hell is this guy to you, Adora?”
The question sent fire through my veins. Who the fuck did he think he was to interrogate me?
I didn’t notice Hilary pausing in the hallway. He was waiting to hear my answer.
“He’s someone who’s none of your goddamn business.”
Hilary and I could be engaged, family, friends- but absolutely not something Luca Russo had any
right to question.
My stomach was practically caving in. I turned to head downstairs, planning to hit Hilary up for
some breakfast.
As I turned, Luca grabbed my wrist, his voice suddenly dripping honey. “Adora, fix my tie for me?”
I raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at Grace hovering by the door like a lost puppy. “What’s
wrong with her hands?”
“Too clumsy. Nobody makes a Windsor knot like you do, baby.”
We stood way too close. To anyone watching, it looked like Luca had me in an embrace.
Grace’s face went white as paper. Two perfectly timed tears rolled down her cheeks. Without a
word, she bolted downstairs.
I still made no move to help, crossing my arms with ice in my voice. “Aren’t you going to chase after your little princess?”
Just overnight, Luca looked like he’d grown bored after decades together. He didn’t even spare a glance in Grace’s direction, shrugging: “Teenage drama queens. So fucking exhausting.”
“Ignore her for an hour and she’ll be back begging. Don’t sweat it.”
I smiled sweetly, eyes cold as December. Rising on tiptoes to fix his tie, I waited until his lips curled into that smug smirk–when he thought he had me exactly where he wanted me.
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Chapter 8
Then I yanked the tie brutally tight, watching him gasp for air.
Red–faced, he tried to slam me against the wall. But I’d already let go, dancing backward out of reach.
“My bad. Been a while since I’ve tied one–guess I’m rusty.”
I shrugged innocently and headed for the stairs.
Suddenly, I collided with a pair of haunted dark eyes. Hilary had been standing there who knows how long.
He held a plate with sandwiches, looking like someone had just shattered his favorite vase.
“Breakfast,” he said quietly.
Something about that moment made my heart kick into overdrive while my hands suddenly didn’t
know what to do with themselves.
Breakfast was cemetery–quiet. Except for Luca’s leg occasionally pressing against mine under the
table.
I moved away in disgust, which only encouraged him to escalate his little game of footsie.
Hilary silently chewed his omelet, his brow furrowed like he was solving quantum physics.
After breakfast, Luca disappeared into the study to prep some documents. The moment the door
closed, only Hilary and I remained in the living room.
I flipped to a trashy reality dating show where contestants swapped partners. Some girl’s
ex–boyfriend was losing his shit after seeing her with another guy.
“You expect me to believe you’re into this dude after just a week?” he accused.
I bit into a blueberry, its tartness exploding on my tongue.
Luca watched the screen, commenting on the woman: “Look at her eyes–she’s still hung up on him.”
“Why else would she keep tabs on who her ex is hooking up with?”
I stared at the relentless man on screen and replied flatly: “Isn’t he just pathetic as hell?”
“He dumped her, but the second she moves on, he can’t handle it? Classic man–child.”
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Chapter 8
Luca fell silent, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times before he managed: “He’s just worried his ex is making shitty choices in men.”
I laughed coldly. “That’s rich, considering he himself isn’t exactly…”
I enunciated each word: “…prime husband material.”
Standing to leave, I found Luca still dogging my heels. From some hidden pocket, he produced the
silver bracelet I’d thrown away. Under the lights, it gleamed like a fucking spotlight.
“Adora, can’t you leave me with something to remember us by?”
“You really think I’d ever do anything to hurt you?”
His furrowed brow made him look genuinely wounded.
I momentarily lost my words. Do all men only realize they love their exes after kicking them to the
curb?
I stepped forward, reaching to grab the bracelet and launch it into oblivion again.
Suddenly, a phone blared. It was Grace calling–she’d mysteriously vanished earlier that morning.
Luca hesitated, then answered. Her fragile sobs came through loud enough for me to hear.
“Luca, baby, I’m freaking out right now.”
“Please come get me. There’s a bunch of guys following me–I think it’s those thugs who jumped you
last time.”
“They have guns…”
Luca’s fist tightened like he was about to punch through a wall. “Stay put, sweetheart. Find
somewhere safe and don’t move. I’m coming right now.”
Watching Luca bolt out in panic, a nagging suspicion formed in my mind.
I looked up and locked eyes with- Hilary’s ice–cold stare from the second floor.
Was it just my imagination? Or did Grace’s emergencies always happen at suspiciously convenient
moments?
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