Page 43 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

She closes the distance between us until her chest nearly brushes mine. Her whisper barely carries across the dark. "And the worst part isn't what you did. It's that I watched you do it and I didn't run. I was sick, Luca. I was terrified. But I wasn't disgusted. And that scares the shit out of me."

I reach out, my fingers curling gently around her jaw. She doesn't pull away, but her pulse jumps under my thumb. "You think wanting a monster makes you broken."

"I think I've spent my entire life maintaining control," she admits, her breath trembling against my palm as she leans into the touch for a fleeting second before catching herself. "I fix everything. I hold the wheel. But around you, I want to let go, and every instinct I have tells me that if I let you in, I won't get myself back."

"Nora," I whisper, brushing my thumb over her lower lip.

She looks directly into my eyes with fierce, stubborn honesty. "I want you. I think about it every second I sit in that library. But there is a line in my head, Luca, and I don't know how to cross it without losing the person who was in London."

I don't drop her gaze. "You think you're looking at a monster because of what happened at the warehouse. But you have no idea how we got here, Nora."

She stays quiet, watching me with guarded eyes.

"I was eleven years old when the Bellinis raided our home," I tell her, my voice dropping to a low, quiet rasp. "They tied me to a chair and made me watch as they butchered Adrian's parents right in front of him. His mother, his father, his little sister, shot down like dogs just to protect me while Adrian was forced to watch every second of the slaughter. He didn't scream. He just went cold, and he has stayed cold ever since."

Her lips part slightly, her chest rising with a sharp intake of air.

"Enzo was eight," I continued, holding her tight against the truth. "They locked him in a dark cellar for three weeks without food, burning his arms with lit cigars every time he cried for our mother. Matteo was nine when they made him dig a shallow grave in the mud, telling him they were going to bury him alive next to his dead cousins. And Sofia....Sofia was four years old, huddled in a closet while men in masks tore our house apart."

A shudder runs through her frame, but she doesn't pull away from my touch.

I trace the line of her cheekbone and speak softly. "We survived. True. But you don't survive something like that and grow up to be a normal man. It carves the softness out of your bones. What you saw in that warehouse wasn't cruelty for fun, Nora. It was the only thing standing between my family and another shallow grave."

My hand slides down to her shoulder without forcing her closer. "Then don't cross it tonight. Stay on your side of the line for as long as you need. But stop hiding from me in the daytime."

A faint, dry smirk touches the corner of her mouth, weary but genuine. "I wasn't hiding. I was executing a strategic retreat."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

She lets out a quiet chuckle, turning toward the door. She pauses with her hand on the brass handle, looking back over her shoulder one last time. "Goodnight, Luca."

"Goodnight, Nora."

Chapter 16

LUCA

Crystal chandeliers rattle overhead, casting cold light over champagne flutes, corrupt magistrates, and Bellini-backed politicians laughing too loud. I adjust my cuff links, marking four armed guards stationed by the mahogany doors. Beside me, Nora holds my elbow in black silk that whispers against the marble floor. After seven days of locked doors and cold silences down the compound halls, she is at my side under a deliberate cover: the elite London crisis consultant hired to audit Moretti Holdings. It protects her identity, keeps the room guessing, and gives her full license to dismantle Bellini's financial network in plain sight.

Nora tightens her fingers on my arm. "Smile. You look like you're planning a massacre."

"I am," I reply, straightening my watch. "And half this room won't survive the appetizer."

Nora scans the crowd with sharp, assessing eyes. "Stick to the script. I am your high-priced British strategist brought in to clean house. You are the untouchable CEO backing me up. Stop scowling before you blow our cover."

"I can say something nice at their funeral," I answer, keeping my face completely blank.

Nora glides across the polished marble in sharp black tailoring, moving like she owns the room. Men step out of her path before they even realize why.

She tilts her chin slightly toward the buffet. "See that man over there with the sweat stains? He's about to regret coming to work today."

"Who is he?" I lean in just enough to keep our conversation hidden.

"Your problem," she smirks, "until two minutes from now."

"Commissioner Ricci," she calls out, smoothly blocking a graying man with a flushed face before he can escape toward the open bar. "I read your official statement regarding the port contracts. Fascinating how the budget numbers shifted three times in six days. Coincidence, or are your accountants genuinely incompetent?"

Ricci freezes with a pastry halfway to his mouth. "Signora, I don't believe we've been formally introduced."