Chapter 5: A Recipe for Disaster

The next morning dawned with a dull, gray sky, the kind of weather that seemed to match Alessia’s mood. She had barely slept, her mind too tangled with thoughts of Luca, her mother, and the fact that her entire life had been turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours. The villa was eerily silent except for the occasional sound of distant waves crashing against the cliffs.

Alessia pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself as she sat on the couch, staring out of the window. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when she heard the sound of voices outside—a low murmur of men talking, followed by the crunch of boots on gravel.

She tensed, her heart racing. But before she could panic, the door swung open, and Luca entered, flanked by two of his men.

“I brought food,” he announced, his voice as dry as ever. He gestured toward the two men, who carried in several bags filled with groceries and supplies. They set the bags down on the small wooden table in the corner of the room before nodding to Luca and leaving without a word.

Alessia raised an eyebrow. “You brought food? What, no five-star chef to whip us up a gourmet meal?”

Luca shot her a look, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’re welcome,” he said curtly, clearly unimpressed by her sarcasm.

Alessia shrugged and stood, making her way over to the table to inspect the bags. There were a few loaves of bread, some vegetables, pasta, canned goods, and a small assortment of spices. It wasn’t exactly a feast, but it would do.

“I assume you know how to cook,” Luca said, leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed.

Alessia froze, her hand hovering over a can of tomatoes. She turned to him slowly, her expression incredulous. “You want *me* to cook?”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather starve.”

Alessia let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. You’re the one who dragged me into this mess, and now you expect me to play housewife?”

“I don’t care what you call it,” Luca said evenly. “Just make something edible.”

Alessia glared at him, her irritation bubbling to the surface. “Fine,” she snapped. “But don’t blame me if you end up with food poisoning.”

She grabbed a frying pan from one of the cupboards and slammed it onto the tiny stove, muttering under her breath about arrogant mafia heirs and their ridiculous expectations.

---

The kitchen was small and poorly stocked, but Alessia did her best to make do with what she had. She decided on something simple—pasta with tomato sauce. How hard could it be?

Apparently, harder than she thought.

Within minutes, the pan was smoking, the sauce was bubbling over, and the kitchen smelled faintly of something burning. Alessia waved a hand in front of her face, coughing as she tried to salvage the sauce, but it was no use. The thin, watery mess looked more like an accident than a meal.

“Is something burning?” Luca’s voice called from the other room.

Alessia gritted her teeth. “It’s *fine!*” she yelled back, though she was clearly lying.

A moment later, Luca appeared in the doorway, his arms still crossed as he surveyed the disaster unfolding in front of him. The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, Alessia thought he might actually laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

“Cooking,” Alessia snapped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She tried to scrape the burnt sauce off the bottom of the pan, but it only made things worse.

Luca shook his head, stepping into the kitchen and plucking the wooden spoon from her hand. “Move,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Alessia opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. With a huff, she stepped aside and crossed her arms, watching as Luca expertly salvaged what little he could of the meal. He poured out the burnt sauce, added fresh ingredients, and adjusted the heat on the stove with practiced ease.

“You know how to cook?” Alessia asked, unable to hide her surprise.

Luca didn’t look at her as he stirred the sauce. “My mother taught me,” he said simply.

Alessia blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected glimpse into his life. She hadn’t thought much about Luca’s mother—she barely knew anything about his family, aside from Vincenzo’s frightening reputation.

“Well, congratulations,” she said after a moment, her tone dry. “You’re officially better at this than I am.”

Luca glanced at her, his lips twitching into something that almost resembled a smile. “That’s not saying much.”

Alessia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. For a brief moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by something lighter, almost… normal.

---

After dinner—which, thanks to Luca, was actually edible—Alessia retreated to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The villa’s bathroom was small and outdated, with cracked tiles and a showerhead that dripped incessantly, but she didn’t care. She needed to wash away the grime of the last twenty-four hours, to feel like a human being again.

She let the hot water cascade over her, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to relax. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself a moment of peace. But as the water ran through her hair and down her back, her thoughts inevitably drifted to Luca.

She hated how much he affected her. One minute, he was infuriating, arrogant, and cold; the next, he was stepping in to save her cooking disaster or revealing small glimpses of the man behind the mask. It was maddening.

When she finally stepped out of the shower, she realized with a groan that she hadn’t brought any clean clothes with her. Wrapping a towel around herself, she opened the bathroom door slightly and peeked out.

“Luca?” she called hesitantly.

“What?” his voice came from the other room.

“I need something to wear,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of footsteps. A moment later, Luca appeared in the hallway, holding a clean white shirt in his hand.

“This is all I’ve got,” he said, holding it out to her.

Alessia hesitated for a moment before grabbing the shirt and muttering a quiet, “Thanks.” She quickly shut the door and slipped the shirt over her head, the fabric soft and warm against her skin. It was far too big for her, the hem brushing against her thighs, but it would have to do.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Luca was sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up as she entered, his gaze lingering on her for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“That’s my shirt,” he said, his tone unreadable.

Alessia crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to darken slightly as they roamed over her. “You gave it to me.”

Luca’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to his phone, leaving Alessia standing there, her cheeks burning.

She hated the way he looked at her, like he was trying to figure her out, like he saw more than she wanted him to. But what she hated even more was the way her heart raced whenever his eyes met hers.

As she made her way back to the couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was in more danger from Luca than from the enemies hunting them outside.