Page 23 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

I let out a shaky breath, shaking my head. "You are crazy."

He takes one step closer. "I am the man keeping you alive right now."

He reaches out and grabs my chin, his long fingers cold and merciless as he tilts my face up into the light. He stares into my wet eyes without an ounce of warmth, studying my weakness like a predator checking an injury on its prey.

I hold his stare without flinching. "Let go of me. I don't want your pity."

His fingers hold firm. "I don't give pity. And I won't watch you sob like a scared kid in my house. You want to fight me? Then get on your feet and do it."

"I hate you," I spit, staring straight into his dark eyes. "I hate you and everything in this house."

Luca runs his thumb over my cheek, brushing the wet trail away. "Good. Hate makes you sharp. Crying just makes you easy to kill."

I jerk my face away from his hand, breathing hard. "You think you can break me?"

He smooths down his dark cuff. "I don't need to break you, Nora. The people outside are going to do that for me."

I hold my chin high. "I am getting out of here. And when I do, I will tear down everything you have."

Luca tilts his head, a tiny smirk touching his mouth. "I would love to watch you try."

I pull back until my spine hits the headboard. "You're insane."

"I am breathing," he replies, his voice dropping low. "That is the only thing that counts."

He turns around slowly, walking toward the doorway with effortless predator grace. He pauses right at the threshold, looking back over his broad shoulder.

"Wipe your face, Nora," he commands softly.

I glare at him in the dark, curling my hands into fists on the blanket.

His eyes harden in the dim light. "Tomorrow, the real fight starts. And I don't have room for people who quit."

He steps out into the dark hallway and pulls the door shut, locking it with a sharp, metallic snap. I sit alone in the heavy quiet of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs while the faint, sharp sting of gunpowder and cold skin lingers on my jaw where his fingers were.

Chapter 8

LUCA

Water spills uninterrupted over the stone tiers of the courtyard fountain below, exactly as it has for fifty years. I lean against the cold marble column of the upper terrace with a cup of black coffee cooling in my palm, my eyes fixed on the gravel path. Nora is walking through the lemon grove as if she holds the deed to the property.

She tugs the sleeves of a heavy woolen sweater down over her knuckles, burying both hands deep in the pockets. Every few yards, she halts on the crushed limestone, tilting her head back to inspect the low branches of the citrus trees with a sharp, assessing gaze. Ten paces behind her, two of Adrian's armed men match her pace step for step, their hands tucked near their jackets. She does not look back at them once.

Enzo drops onto the stone balustrade beside me, letting out a sharp whistle. He tracks my line of sight toward the path. "You've been watching her like a hawk for two hours, Luca. It's getting embarrassing."

"I'm waiting to see how long before she tries the gate," I answer without blinking, keeping my voice level.

Enzo shakes his head, grinning. "Sure you are. And I'm the Pope."

My grip tightens on the stone as I lean forward. "She timed the guards for twenty minutes. I'm watching a problem, that's all."

He snorts and steals the espresso cup from my hand before I can stop him. "You've assessed her twelve times since breakfast. At this point you're just collecting stamps."

I reach out to reclaim the porcelain before he finishes it. "Drink your own coffee."

Enzo dodges my hand with an easy twist of his shoulders. "I would, but yours has that lovely undertone of expensive desperation."

"And yours tastes like pure trouble." He takes a long sip and points down toward the trees. "She's checking the blind spots. Sal's throat is still black and blue from London, and she's already looking for doors."