Chapter 3: A Storm Behind His Eyes

The first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in the villa’s weathered shutters, casting faint streaks of light across the room. Alessia stirred on the couch, her body stiff from the uncomfortable position she had been forced to sleep in. She rubbed her eyes, her mind still reeling from the events of the night before.

Her chest tightened as the memories flooded back—Vincenzo’s lifeless body, her mother’s heartbreaking sobs, and the cold, calculating figure of Luca pulling her away from it all. She sat up, brushing her hair from her face as she glanced around the modest villa.

Luca was already awake. Of course he was. He stood by the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft morning light. His phone was pressed to his ear, his voice low and commanding as he barked orders to someone on the other end of the line.

“I don’t care what it takes,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Find them. Every single one of them. And when you do, bring them to me alive.”

Alessia shivered at the coldness in his voice. There was no hesitation, no trace of mercy. It was a reminder of who he was—a man born and bred in the shadows of the mafia, someone who didn’t flinch at the idea of bloodshed.

She hated him. Hated his arrogance, his cold detachment, the way he treated her like she was nothing more than a nuisance. But even as her anger simmered, she couldn’t ignore the faint flicker of curiosity beneath it. Who was Luca Moretti, really? Was he just the ruthless heir to his father’s empire, or was there something more beneath the surface?

Luca ended the call and turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken tension.

“You’re awake,” he said flatly, his gaze flicking over her disheveled appearance.

“Brilliant observation,” Alessia shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Luca’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, his presence as commanding as ever. He stopped a few feet away from her, his posture rigid, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored trousers.

“We need to talk,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Alessia arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you want to talk? Last night you couldn’t stop barking orders at me like I’m some kind of dog.”

Luca’s lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained cold. “You were hysterical. I didn’t have time to coddle you.”

“Hysterical?” Alessia repeated, her voice rising. She shot to her feet, her fists clenched at her sides. “I just watched my mother’s husband get murdered in front of me. Excuse me for not being as emotionally dead as you!”

Luca’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of something darker. He stepped closer, his towering frame looming over her.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he said quietly, his voice laced with warning.

“And I don’t want to!” Alessia snapped, refusing to back down. “You’re nothing but a cold, heartless bastard who thinks he can control everyone around him. Well, newsflash, Luca—I’m not one of your little mafia soldiers, and I’m not going to bow down to you just because you bark orders in that oh-so-intimidating voice of yours.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Alessia thought he might actually lose his composure. But instead, he let out a low chuckle, the sound both infuriating and unsettling.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “But let me make one thing clear, princess. You’re in my world now. And in my world, you play by my rules. Got it?”

Alessia’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She hated the way he looked at her, like he could see right through her. But she refused to let him intimidate her.

“Go to hell,” she spat, her voice trembling only slightly.

Luca’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, more dangerous. “Been there. Didn’t like the decor.”

Before Alessia could respond, Luca turned on his heel and strode toward the door. He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, his movements quick and efficient.

“Where are you going?” Alessia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“To clean up the mess my father left behind,” Luca replied without looking at her.

“And what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for you to come back?”

Luca paused, his hand on the doorknob. He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her over his shoulder.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said simply. And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

---

Hours passed, and Alessia found herself pacing the small villa like a caged animal. She hated being left in the dark, hated feeling like she had no control over what was happening. The weight of the previous night still hung heavy over her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of her mother sobbing over Vincenzo’s body.

She wanted answers. Who had done this? Why? And what was Luca planning to do about it?

By the time Luca finally returned, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the room. He looked tired but no less composed, his suit immaculate despite the long day.

“Where have you been?” Alessia demanded the moment he stepped inside.

Luca raised an eyebrow at her tone but didn’t respond right away. He locked the door behind him and tossed his jacket onto the couch before pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the small bar in the corner.

“I asked you a question,” Alessia pressed, her frustration boiling over.

Luca took a slow sip of his drink, his dark eyes meeting hers over the rim of the glass. “I had business to take care of.”

“What kind of business?”

“The kind you don’t need to worry about.”

Alessia let out a sharp breath, her patience snapping. “You can’t keep me in the dark, Luca. I deserve to know what’s going on!”

Luca set his glass down on the table with a soft clink, his movements slow and deliberate. He stepped closer to her, his gaze locking onto hers.

“You want to know what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Fine. My father’s death has left a power vacuum, and every scumbag in the underworld is scrambling to take a piece of what’s left. The men who attacked us last night? They were sending a message. They wanted us to know that they’re coming for us. For you. For your mother.”

Alessia’s breath caught in her throat, her anger replaced by a cold wave of fear. “Why me? I’m not part of this world. I don’t have anything to do with the mafia.”

“You’re my father’s stepdaughter,” Luca said bluntly. “That makes you a target.”

Alessia stared at him, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, she knew he wasn’t.

“What do we do now?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luca’s gaze softened—just barely—as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. The gesture was so unexpected, so out of character, that Alessia froze, her heart skipping a beat.

“We survive,” he said simply.

For a moment, the tension between them shifted, the air thick with something neither of them dared to name. Alessia’s breath hitched as Luca’s hand lingered near her face, his dark eyes searching hers.

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. Luca stepped back, his expression once again unreadable.

“Get some rest,” he said, his tone curt. “We have a long road ahead of us.”

Alessia nodded reluctantly, her mind still reeling from the brief, intimate moment they had shared. As she watched Luca retreat to the other side of the room, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to him than the cold, unfeeling mask he wore.

One thing was certain—her life was now entwined with his, for better or worse. And despite everything, a small, traitorous part of her couldn’t ignore the storm that brewed behind his eyes, a storm that threatened to consume them both.