The mansion had grown colder since that night in the library. Not in temperature, Aria still walked through gilded halls with warm chandeliers and blazing fireplaces, but in the way silence seemed to press in, the way Luca avoided her eyes when others were around, the way she caught him watching her only when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
He was slipping back into himself. Into the fortress of steel and shadows that made him untouchable. And it drove her mad.
Aria had told herself she wouldn’t beg. That if he wanted to lock himself away, fine, she could build walls too. But the truth was, every night when she lay awake in that cavernous bed, every morning when she caught the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the hall, her resolve wavered. She wanted him. Not the Don, not the mask, but the man beneath, the one who had held her wrist and whispered that she terrified him because she mattered too much.
So when she found herself in the training hall that evening, watching him spar with two of his men, she didn’t leave. She lingered in the shadows, heart pounding as he moved.
He was lethal elegance, every strike of his fists and every twist of his body was calculated and brutal. The men he fought were strong and trained, but Mateo dismantled them with a predator’s grace. Sweat clung to his temples, his shirt clinging to the planes of his chest. He was all sharp edges and coiled strength, and yet there was something in the tension of his jaw and the fury in each blow that betrayed him.
He wasn’t fighting them. He was fighting himself.
When the men finally staggered back, defeated, he dismissed them with a clipped nod. Then his eyes lifted and found her.
Aria’s breath caught. She should have left, should have pretended she hadn’t been watching, but her feet refused to move.
Slowly, Luca crossed the mat, his gaze locked on hers like she was prey that had dared to step too close. When he stopped in front of her, his chest still heaving, his voice was low and dangerous.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," Aria said softly, meeting his steel-gray stare. "Long enough to see you beating something that isn’t even in this room."
His jaw ticked. "You think you know me that well?"
"I think you hate how much I see," she whispered.
The air thickened between them. He took a step closer, and then another, until his damp skin and heat pressed against her senses. His hand came up, caging her against the wall without touching her, his body towering over hers.
"You think it’s that simple?" he rasped. "That you can just look at me and know?"
Her pulse thundered. "Maybe not everything. But I know you’re running. From me. From this."
For a moment, his face was so close she swore she could taste the salt of his sweat on her lips. His breath came rough, unsteady, his hand flexing on the wall like he wanted to grab her but didn’t trust himself.
"Aria," he said, voice cracked, "you don’t understand what you’re asking me for."
"Then explain it." Her eyes burned, but she refused to look away. "Explain why you push me away when I know you want me. Why you’d rather torture yourself than just."
Her words broke when his hand finally moved, cupping her jaw with a desperation that nearly undid her. His thumb brushed the curve of her cheek, and for the first time in days, she felt him. Not the Don. Not the cold façade. Him.
"Because once I start, I won’t stop," he growled, his forehead pressing to hers. "And you deserve better than a man who can’t let go, who would chain you here with his obsession."
Her chest heaved against his. "You already have me chained. But not with fear, Luca. With you. Don’t you see? I don’t want out."
Something snapped in his eyes then, a flicker of fire breaking through the storm. His lips crashed against hers in a kiss that wasn’t gentle and wasn’t polite, it was raw, claiming, and desperate.
Aria gasped into his mouth, her hands flying to his shoulders as he pressed her harder into the wall. His kiss tasted of sweat and fury and something dangerously close to need.
Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down her spine.
He kissed her like he was starving, like he had denied himself for too long, like every wall he had built was crumbling brick by brick. And she kissed him back with everything she had, pouring her anger, her jealousy, her longing into the space between them until there was no room for doubt.
When he finally tore his mouth from hers, they were both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, his hand still cradling her face like she was something fragile.
"This is madness," he whispered, his voice ragged. "You’re madness."
Aria swallowed, her lips swollen, her heart racing. "Then let yourself go mad. With me."
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His steel-gray eyes were molten now, stripped of their usual armor. For the first time, she saw not just the Don, but the man who had lost, who had bled, who was terrified of being hurt again.
And in that moment, she realized Luca wasn’t just afraid of her leaving. He was afraid of needing her so much that if she did, it would destroy him.
"Aria..." he began, but the words faltered. He shook his head like a man fighting a war he couldn’t win.
Before she could press him further, the door to the training hall creaked. One of his men stepped in, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Boss. We’ve got word, the Moretti family is moving tonight."
Luca’s entire body went rigid, the spell broken in an instant. He straightened, his hand dropping from her face, his mask slamming back into place.
"Get the cars ready," he ordered, his tone clipped, commanding.
The man nodded and vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.
Aria pressed her palm to the wall, trying to catch her breath, her lips still tingling from his kiss. "Luca."
But he was already striding across the room, grabbing a towel, wiping sweat from his face as if nothing had happened.
"Stay here," he said without looking at her. "It’s not safe tonight."
Her chest tightened. "And what about us? You can’t just pretend."
He turned, his eyes once again cold, though the faint tremor in his hands betrayed him. "We’ll talk later."
And with that, he was gone.
Aria pressed her back to the wall, closing her eyes. Her lips still burned with his kiss, her body still ached for his touch. But the silence he left behind was louder than ever.
For all his walls, for all his denial, he had kissed her. He had admitted, in the only way he knew how, that he couldn’t resist her.