Chapter 2

• Chapter 2: Desperate Beginnings
• Lena can't explain it, not even to herself. Something about him—his presence, his command, his sheer dominance over the room—has her utterly captivated. The logical part of her screams to walk away, but the reckless, thrill-seeking side refuses. She wants to know him. To push him. To see what lies beneath those piercing blue eyes and the quiet authority he wields like a weapon.
• So, shamelessly, she follows him.
• Luca DeLuca doesn't seem like the type of man who is used to being trailed like a lost puppy, least of all by a girl he clearly considers a nuisance. And yet, she does just that, shadowing him as he moves through the club, weaving past clusters of dangerous-looking men who carry themselves with the same lethal elegance he does. They are powerful, every one of them, draped in wealth and sin, their suits pristine, their watches glinting under the dim lights. This isn't just a group of businessmen enjoying a night out—this is a gathering of men who own the night.
• The moment Luca stops at a secluded booth, the men around him notice her.
• "Who's this, Luca?" one of them asks, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks Lena over with interest. His dark eyes gleam with amusement, as though he already knows the answer but wants to hear Luca say it.
• "She's no one," Luca replies sharply, his jaw tightening. "Just a lost little girl who doesn't know where she belongs."
• Lena scoffs, folding her arms as she leans against the booth. "I'm right here, you know. You could talk to me instead of about me."
• The men chuckle, their smirks growing wider as they exchange knowing glances. "Lost little girl, huh?" another one muses. "Doesn't look so lost to me. Looks like she knows exactly what she's doing."
• "Maybe I do," Lena interjects, her voice deliberately provocative. "Maybe I'm exactly where I want to be."
• Lena smiles sweetly, enjoying the way Luca's irritation becomes more visible with every passing second. He tries so hard to remain unaffected, to push her away, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.
• "Maybe she's his new plaything," someone teases.
• Luca shoots them a cold glare. "She's not mine."
• One of them raises a brow, his gaze flicking between Luca and Lena. "Then does that mean she's available?"
• The suggestion is casual, but the weight of it settles heavily in the air. The way they look at her—hungry, assessing—makes her pulse quicken. It's all a game to them, a joke, but there's something territorial in the way Luca's expression darkens. His fingers flex at his sides, as if fighting the urge to react.
• "I don't think your friend likes sharing his toys," Lena remarks to the man, deliberately baiting Luca. "Even the ones he claims not to want."
• Lena seizes the moment. "Luca, huh?" she purrs, tilting her head as she studies him. "I like it. Suits you."
• Luca's jaw clenches. "Leave."
• She grins. "Make me."
• The laughter that follows only makes him more furious. His patience is razor-thin, his temper a ticking bomb. Lena can see it in the way his eyes flash, in the way his chest rises and falls as he exhales sharply.
• "I'm not asking again," he warns, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This isn't a place for games."
• "Isn't it?" she challenges. "Everyone else seems to be having fun."
• Then, without warning, he grabs her wrist.
• Lena gasps as he yanks her away from the booth, his grip firm but not painful. His long strides force her to stumble after him as he leads her through the club, weaving through the crowd with unrelenting determination. The moment they reach the entrance, he spins her around, pressing her against the cool glass door with enough force to make her breath hitch.
• "You need to leave," he says, his voice low, warning.
• Lena looks up at him, her pulse racing. The proximity between them is intoxicating. His scent—expensive cologne mixed with something purely him—fills her lungs. His body radiates heat, his muscles tense beneath his tailored suit. Every inch of him screams control, dominance, danger.
• And she wants to test every limit he has.
• She smirks, placing a delicate hand against his chest. "Or what?"
• Luca's eyes darken, his breath hitching as her fingers trail over the fabric of his shirt. She can feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath her palm. Can see the way his pupils dilate, the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
• His control is slipping.
• "I mean it, Lena," he warns, his voice gruffer this time, as if he were barely hanging on. "Walk away before you regret it."
• "What exactly would I regret?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "The danger? The excitement?" She pauses, her eyes locked with his. "You?"
• She leans in, her lips brushing dangerously close to his jaw. "What if I want to regret it?"
• Luca's breath comes out in a sharp exhale, his body rigid. His hands, which had been holding her firmly in place, twitch—just for a second. It's the only hesitation she needs to know she has gotten under his skin.
• He doesn't just want her gone. He wants her gone because she is a problem.
• For him.
• And that sends a thrill down her spine.
• "Listen to me, little girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping into something almost lethal. "You don't belong in this world. If you keep pushing, you'll end up somewhere you can't come back from."
• She lifts a brow. "Are you trying to scare me?"
• "I don't have to try."
• "Is that what you tell all the women who interest you?" she taunts. "Or am I special?"
• His hands suddenly tighten on her arms, not enough to hurt but enough to let her know he is done playing. His blue eyes burn into hers, a storm of emotions she can't quite place swirling beneath the surface.
• "This isn't a game, Lena."
• Her lips curve into a slow, taunting smile. "Then why are you playing?"
• Something inside him snaps.
• One second, he is warning her. The next, his grip has shifted, his fingers tangling in her hair as he yanks her closer, their bodies flush against each other. Lena sucks in a breath, heat coiling in her stomach as his lips hover just inches from hers.
• "You have no idea what you're asking for," he growls, his voice rough with restraint.
• "Then show me," she whispers, challenging him.
• She can feel everything—the tension, the desire, the war raging inside him.
• And for the first time, Luca DeLuca looks like a man on the verge of losing control.