Chapter 221: No Going Back
- RORY -
I wake up with a small gasp, not realizing that I drifted off to sleep. No nightmares terrorized me this time, but I didn’t meet the dream version of Luciano either.
The darkness is the first thing I see, and it feels like the warmth of him has just left. The bed is empty next to me, but somehow I know he was here. Like a blanket that has slipped off to leave me exposed without it.
I swallow and slowly push myself up, willing myself not to allow the panic encroaching on the edges of my mind to get any closer. I’m not alone. He’s here somewhere. But I also can’t bring myself to call out for him either.
I may have decided for the first time in my life to rely on someone else for the safety I have only ever found deep inside of myself, but I’m not about to go crying out in the dark like a child so that he’ll come back to me. I’m not that person. I can’t be that person.
Instead, I pull my knees up and wrap my arms tightly around them, staring out at the room toward the doorway that’s open to the kitchen and living area. It’s dark out there, too. So dark. This is too much like when I woke up before in my own cabina and the shadow of a man was waiting for me.
The gun that was next to Luci’s side of the bed is also gone, I notice, and I swallow thickly again against the fear that has started to lodge itself in my throat. Luciano was hurt in the nightmare, remember Rory? Remember when he asked you about it? What if he gets hurt now? And all you did was sit here, too afraid of the dark to help him?
I grab the knife from the bedside table and slip off of the bed, unsheathing it from its fold while every muscle in my body tenses with the determination to not make the mistake of hurting myself twice in one night. Its sharp blade is going to stay pointed outward, ready to cut into any human trafficking bastards that think I’m going to be an easy target. This time I’m not running. This time I’m making them bleed.
Sliding across the floor in my stocking feet, I peek out the bedroom door. Just like earlier, it’s dark. No one is here but me.
The silence now is different, though. I can’t explain how exactly, but I know the place is empty this time. There is no one lying in wait, ready to rise from the darkness.
Where did Luciano go? Did he hear something and go to investigate? Is he in danger? And do I really think I could even help him if he was?
I silently cross the room and stare out the door into the forest. Nothing is out there that I can see. A few minutes go by of nothing but peaceful silence before I decide to venture out. I’m a few silent paces from the door with the warm breeze curling around my legs when Luciano turns the corner ahead and startles me.
"What are you doing out here, dolcezza? Is everything okay?" He asks as his long, powerful legs quickly eat up the space between us.
He glances down at the knife in my hand and back up into my eyes. That’s when I notice the gun that he quickly tucks behind his back into his waistband where I never realized he carries it.
"You were gone, and I was worried. It was dark..."
Then his hands are cupping my face as he studies me, and I swear everything in me—every panicked thought, every worry, every lingering fear—instantly disperses. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that this man has that power over me. But I close my eyes and sigh contentedly anyway, letting it take over.
"You don’t have to worry about me, Rory. I told you that. Come on. Come back inside before someone sees you like this and I have to murder them."
"What?" I chuckle, and a fire sparks back into my veins. He returned it to me, it seems.
I look down at myself as we walk back inside. There is nothing scandalous at all about what I’m wearing. This is like a dress. A boxy, shapeless, unattractive dress.
"Are you serious? I’m almost entirely covered. You’re not one of those super jealous types, are you? Are you going to police what I wear, because if that’s the case, you can forget about this, whatever this is. I don’t care what my ancestors or my prophetic dreams or anyone else has to say, this thing between us is not happening."
He shakes his head, wrinkles creasing the corners of his eyes.
"There you are," he says with a chuckle.
"What? I’m serious, Luciano. I’m not going to put up with someone who threatens to kill anyone who sees me... You should see the bathing suit I brought, because that makes this shirt of yours look... decent. And everyone in the resort is going to see it, right? Because that’s what people do. They swim in bathing suits."
His amused smile diminishes at that, replaced with a soft growl that makes my hairs stand on end. He takes the knife out of my hand, folding it back like it was and setting it on the kitchen island out of my reach.
"I am not going to control what you wear," he says, the smooth gravel of his voice rushing down the center of my chest and further south where it pools with warmth.
He steps into me, staring down, reminding me of his size. As intimidating as it might be for anyone else, all I feel is that warmth of him. The safety and comfort that I woke up feeling the remnants of. And something more.
"But seeing you in something of mine... even if I rarely wear it," his face breaks into a brief smile, "is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, dolcezza. I’m sorry if it makes me possessive."
My mouth is a desert. This man has just taken the words and fight right out of me.
"So does this mean we’re in a relationship?" He asks, "You telling me these things you can’t live with?" One eyebrow arches wickedly as those eyes of his that appear black in the darkness study mine.
"Pfff," I scoff and walk into the bedroom, removing myself from the intensity of him. "No. Does having your guys watch me without my knowledge count as a relationship?"
I hear that growl again and fight a smile when I feel him slowly following me. It feels like a predator prowling after the smaller prey, but it doesn’t scare me at all.
Luciano is careful. I’ve seen the way he watches me... the flicker of awareness when he sees my fear surface. He may actually be too careful, considering the fact that I’ve thought he was going to kiss me multiple times and he still hasn’t.
"Then what counts as a relationship, Lorelei?" He uses that same deep, toe-curling voice.
I’m not sure if he’s teasing me or I’m teasing him at this point, but I’m certain one of the two is happening.
"For me?" I ask, glancing at him and crossing my arms.
"What do you expect from someone you give your heart to?"
The question makes that heart in question do a little flip behind my ribs as he walks closer, and I wet my lips, thinking about the answer. So maybe this isn’t just about teasing.
"Honesty."
"Okay," he nods.
"Safety."
"Yes," he says quietly, looking down at my lips and waiting for more.
"Exclusivity," I say, clearing my throat.
His lips twitch toward a smile. "Go on, I’m listening."
"Passion."
I feel my cheeks heat as soon as the word is spoken, because that is not what my prior relationships were based on. It’s a lie to act like they were. But this, right here... this thing between Luciano and I... I want it to be. Passion is what I want from him, because passion is what I’ve seen in his eyes. He just hasn’t acted on it yet.
Despite the lack of light in the room, I swear I can see his eyes darken. They are so black. Looking into them almost feels like standing on the very edge of an abyss that there is no returning from. The question is, am I going to let myself fall? This is the moment that will decide it.
Luciano is studying me again like he’s reading everything that I’m not saying, making sure my body language is right—that it’s not just a word I’ve spoken and nothing more. When he takes another step closer, my breath shudders, but he remains poised there, waiting for something. It’s maddening.
"Do I need to climb on top of you to get you to kiss me or what?" I huff.
Luci growls and pulls me into him, fingers curled into the nape of my hair. The kiss is fierce and tender, desperate and searing. I whimper at the sheer intensity of it, the hungry way he devours me, the hand at my waist that presses me against him—demanding and possessive and thrilling. And that’s when I know for sure. I’ve fallen for Luciano Ricca, and there is no going back.
