10. Luca

CHAPTER 10

LUCA

EARLY HOURS THE NEXT MORNING – CHARGED WITH MURDER

A fter arriving at the station, the cops processed me before shoving me into an interview room. Detectives Rollo and Williamson tried to pry information out of me, but I knew the game too well to fall for that. I may never have been arrested before, but we’d all been schooled in exactly how to handle such situations just in case. Every question they threw at me got the same response: “No comment.” I requested a lawyer, and after about half an hour of circling the same empty routine, they finally gave up. I was led to a holding cell, and left to sit and wait in this tiny, windowless box.

By now, Miki would know about my situation. Trigger had received my text just as the police were at my door, and I knew he’d wasted no time alerting the others. So, it was just a matter of time until a lawyer arrived, and I’d have to run through the interrogation again—this time with legal backup. If they charged me after that, I’d be taken to court on Monday and have to apply for bail.

Would it get that far?

I sighed. Yes, I’d no doubt it would.

The reality of it made my skin itch. I shifted on the hard bench, my shoulders tense, and rolled my neck to work out some of the stiffness. Someone had framed me. The dead woman lying in my flat, my ex Julie, was nothing more than a pawn in someone’s twisted game. My gut told me it was the MP—he’d found out who I was. We had anticipated the possibility, but apparently we’d underestimated just how badly he wanted revenge. The MP was already buried under a mountain of charges; we assumed he’d be too busy wriggling out of those to bother coming after us.

We had been wrong.

A man like him couldn’t be taken lightly. Desperation makes people dangerous, but this guy? He was something worse—a full-blown psychopath. Maybe a sociopath. I wasn’t sure which, but either way, the result was the same: he was capable of anything. And now, he’d had me arrested for murder.

The dull hum of distant voices and clanking doors were my only company. This boredom was unbearable. I really didn’t relish the prospect of being stuck here much longer. Worse was the idea of going to jail. Danger? That I could handle. No doubt I’d thrive in it, like always. But the thought of losing my freedom? That crawled under my skin in a way nothing else could. The confinement would be a special kind of hell.

I was the Head of Entertainment for the Rominov’s for a reason. People were my world. The buzz, the pulse of life around me, were like my life’s blood. Miki always said charm was my superpower. He was right. Making people do what I wanted came easily. There was nobody I couldn’t charm. Well, except Claire. My Little Miss Sexy Ass. She was a special case. Stubborn as hell—and I loved her for it.

Loved her?

Those two words made my heart stutter, panic filled me and a cold sweat prickled across my skin. I dragged my hand down my face. If anyone was watching, they’d think I was starting to crack under the pressure of a murder charge. But this panic had nothing to do with that. It was Claire—my feelings for her ran deeper than I’d even realised, and that left me shaken.

What the hell was I going to do? The weight of everything pressed in on me, harder with each breath. Claire hadn’t wanted me because of my ties to the Bratva. What would she think now? A murder charge, involving a woman I’d once been with—it was a disaster. This would remind her of my past, my reputation as a player. One more nail in the coffin of whatever I’d hoped we could have. After this, she’d be even less inclined to open her heart to me. And I didn’t think even my Plan B would change that.

Devastation threatened to overwhelm me. My heart had recognised Claire as mine from the moment we met; I just hadn’t realised it had given itself fully to her at the same time. I’d known her rejection would cut deep and my heart would hurt if I failed to win her. But I’d expected it would heal with time, along with my battered self-esteem. Now, I wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to cope with losing her. Something, I’d never truly believed was an option until now.

Leaning forward, I braced my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands. My fingers curled into my hair as I fought the urge to scream, to lash out at something—anything. But there was nothing in the cell to vent my frustration on, and even if there was, it would only give the cops the satisfaction of thinking they were getting to me.

With nothing to do and trying desperately not to succumb to my worries about Claire, I turned my focus onto the reason I was here. Julie Wilson was only ever supposed to be a one-night stand. Yet the woman had pursued me relentlessly. Grief-stricken over the loss of Miki’s older sister, Krissa, and in need of comfort and distraction, I found myself letting it become something more. I’d known Julie was troubled, but I’d foolishly believed I could help her. Losing Krissa had hit all of us Bratva Blood Brothers hard, just as losing Anton’s sister, had all those years before.

Each of us suffered from feelings of guilt at our failure to protect and save her, and we all dealt with it differently. My way was to try to help Julie. Of course, I hadn’t known the extent of her troubles then or just how highly strung she was. Julie was a highly functioning heroin addict with several mental health challenges. By the time I realised that she needed more help than I could possibly give, she’d become obsessed with me.

When I tried to end our short relationship, she became difficult, taking to stalking me and my staff, turning up wherever she thought I’d be, begging for cash to fund her habit or for me to take her back, and threatening to kill herself if she didn’t get her way. Eventually, Miki and I had forced her to go to rehab. I’d used money from one of our shell companies to pay for it so people didn’t know of my involvement, and then I’d cut ties. That was about eighteen months ago, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to her personally since.

She’d been at the clinic for almost a year, and between coming off the heroin, getting her mental health assessed, and taking properly prescribed medication, she’d been well on the road to recovery. After she’d been discharged, Miki had kept tabs on her and ensured that she found work with a temporary employment agency, and the last we’d heard she was doing great and had obtained full-time employment as a secretary with a small law firm.

So, how the hell did she end up dead in my bed?

Sighing heavily, I stretched out on the hard bench of the holding cell and closed my eyes, trying to ease the stress headache that was starting to build. As soon as my eyes shut, images of Julie’s blood-drenched body assaulted my mind, and I felt sick. I couldn’t believe what had happened, and that I was being charged with doing such a horrible thing. It pained me that any woman should be hurt like that, but I couldn’t help wondering, why her? I’d been with quite a few women between breaking up with her and meeting Claire. So why had she been chosen as the victim? And how did they even know about her connection to me in the first place? I rubbed between my eyes; there were so many questions and no answers.

I’d need to think through things logically. I might be innocent of Julie’s murder, but I needed to prove it. The law might say, ‘innocent until proven guilty,’ but I still had to be able to deny these allegations with more than just words.

Just as I was thinking of that, I heard footsteps approaching, and a second later my cell door was opened.

“Lawyer’s here!” the gruff duty sergeant stated.

Glad of the chance to get out of this box, I jumped up and followed him into a small interview room.

I stepped through the door and stopped. It was Claire.

My excitement at seeing her so soon was overshadowed by the gravity of the situation, yet my heart sped up at the sight of her. The pinched, annoyed expression she wore while scanning the charge sheet made me want to kiss it right off her face. The thought of her relaxing against me, making those adorable little moaning sounds she always did when we kissed, sent a thrill through me.

Fuck, I had it bad!

My cock hardened as illicit thoughts raced through my mind. Not the time! I reminded myself. I needed to rein it in; this was hardly the moment to get worked up. Considering the serious charges against me, sporting a hard-on in for my sexy lawyer would definitely give the detectives more ammunition to use against me. Not to mention the whole morality of the situation. Getting turned on by Claire at a time like this, no matter how gorgeous she was, was highly inappropriate, definitely wouldn’t impress her, and on top of that, was just all kinds of wrong!

My internal monologue seemed to work, and the strain against my pants lessened. Thank fuck!

When the sergeant closed the door behind him, Claire turned and smiled at me, and just like that, the strain returned.

“How you holding up?” she asked.

I gritted my teeth against the pulsing below and forced myself to conjure the image of poor Julie to tame the beast again before answering.

“I’m okay, but feeling sick to my stomach about what happened to Julie,” I confessed, my voice laced with sincerity. “I didn’t do this, Claire, I swear!” The urgency of my words hung in the air; I needed her to believe me. She knew I was a criminal, and she’d know that meant I had done some bad things in my life, but the thought of her believing I could harm a woman cut deep.

Her nod of understanding brought me relief. “I know, Luca. However, we need to get you out of here, and then we need to figure out who did this. Someone is obviously setting you up,” she replied, her determination shining through.

“I agree!” I nodded, feeling a flicker of hope at her conviction. She smiled, a light breaking through the darkness of the situation.

“This is going to be a long night,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly, grim determination flickering behind her gaze.

Several hours later, I had officially been charged with the rape and murder of Julie Wilson, and we found ourselves back in the interview room.

“Well, at least that part is over. I’ll meet you at court on Monday afternoon for the bail hearing,” Claire said as she prepared to leave.

“Thanks, Claire. I really appreciate this,” I replied, my insides knotting as she looked back at me, her tired nod resonating with unspoken worries.

Watching her leave, I braced myself for the return to the cell. Hours stretched ahead, filled with the unsettling silence and the gnawing worry about what was going to happen.