10. Fiamma

TEN

Fiamma

The steam in the bathroom is thick, a sultry fog that clings to my skin as I step under the hot spray of the shower. The water cascades over me, a temporary barrier against the world that feels like it's closing in. I tilt my head back, letting the water soak my hair, when the shower door opens with a faint creak.

Luca steps in, his gaze roaming over me with an intensity that makes the air crackle despite the humidity. His light brown hair darkens with the wetness, and his piercing green eyes lock onto mine, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature. He moves closer, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the steam.

Without a word, he presses me against the cool tile wall, his hands splayed beside my head. I can feel the hardness of his muscles, the firmness of his chest against mine. His lips find my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone, each one a spark that ignites a fire within me .

His hands explore my body, tracing the contours of my curves with a reverence that belies the roughness of his touch. He cups my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. I gasp as he pinches them lightly, a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain shooting straight to my core.

Luca's mouth claims mine in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine, tasting, engaging. I meet his fervor with my own, our bodies pressed together, slippery with water and desire. His erection throbs against my stomach, a tangible reminder of his need for me.

"You're mine, Fiamma," he growls against my ear, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "Every inch of you."

His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me back against him. I can feel his arousal, hard and insistent, and a moan escapes my lips. Luca's response is immediate, a rough chuckle that fans the flames of my desire.

"That's it, bella," he murmurs, his lips tracing the curve of my shoulder. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His hands slide down to cup my ass, squeezing firmly. I gasp as he lifts me, my back pressing against the slick tiles as he positions himself at my entrance. He teases me, the head of his cock just barely slipping inside before pulling back, a maddeningly slow torture.

"Luca, please," I beg, my voice breathy and desperate.

"Please, what?" he taunts, his green eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you," I admit, my pride swallowed by the overwhelming need for release. "I need you inside me. "

He groans, the sound almost pained, and then he's thrusting into me, filling me completely. The sensation is intense, a searing pleasure that borders on pain. My fingers clutch around his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as he sets a punishing pace.

"So fucking tight," he grunts, his hands pressing into the bed beside my head. "You were made for me, weren't you?"

I can only nod, lost in the sensation of him moving inside me, the water flowing over us like a benediction.

"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice harsh with need. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

My hand slips between us, finding the bundle of nerves at my center. I circle it with my fingertips, each stroke synced with his thrusts. The pressure builds, a coiling tension that threatens to overwhelm me.

"That's it," Luca encourages, his voice a guttural whisper. "Come for me, Fiamma. Let go." The sound of my name on his lips pushes me over the edge.

And with his words as the catalyst, I shatter, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. My orgasm hits me like a freight train, a burst of pleasure so intense that my vision whites out.

I convulse around him, my body squeezing his cock as he continues to thrust, once, twice, before finding his own release with a guttural groan. He buries his face in my neck, his hoarse cry muffled by the sound of running water.

For a moment, we stay like that, joined together, our breathing ragged and our hearts pounding in unison. Then, with a gentleness that belies his earlier fervor, Luca lowers me to my feet, his hands lingering on my waist to steady me. I can't help but marvel at the contrast between the roughness of our lovemaking and the tenderness of this aftermath.

He pulls me into his arms, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. A shiver travels through my entire body as I am still coming down from what we just shared.

The water has started to cool, but neither of us makes a move to step out of the shower. For now, we're content to stay in this bubble, this sanctuary, where the only thing that exists is the two of us and the connection that binds us together.

The bell above the door jingles as we step into Frost, the warmth of the café hitting me like a soft wave, carrying with it the scent of fresh coffee. It's a familiar place, with its cozy booths and glowing string lights hanging from the ceiling. But today, there's no comfort in it. Not with what I'm about to do.

My heart pounds in my chest as Luca leads us to the counter. He's got his hands stuffed in his pockets, to match his gruff demeanor, a stark difference from the man I just shared a sex shower with less than an hour ago.

The fa?ade is necessary, but knowing it is a show doesn't do much to calm the storm brewing inside me. I've never been a good liar. And now I'm supposed to deceive a man who could have me killed in a heartbeat, and probably still would without a second thought if he knew what I was doing.

The nostalgic decorations around the café—the twinkling lights, the wreaths hanging from the windows, the soft hum of holiday music—feel almost mocking. It's a reminder that the rest of the world is going on as usual, unaware of the dangerous game unfolding right here in this quaint café on the edge of town.

"What'll you have?" Luca's voice pulls me back to the present. He's already ordered, his eyes steady on mine as if he can sense the tension radiating off me.

"Just a a cappuccino, double shot, please," I say, my voice quieter than usual. "With a sprinkle of cinnamon."

The barista nods, giving me a friendly smile as she rings us up. I force a smile back, my fingers itching with the folded note tucked inside my coat pocket. Every second that passes feels like an eternity.

As we wait, Luca leans in closer, his voice low. "You okay?"

I nod, though I know I'm not fooling him. "Yeah. Just… nerves."

He doesn't say anything more, just watches me, his gaze intense. There's something comforting in the way he's always there, always watching out for me. But right now, it only adds to the pressure. I have to do this right. For him. For us. For the family.

The drinks arrive, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, warm and inviting. I wrap my hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into my skin .

"I'm going to the restroom," I say, keeping my tone casual, even though my pulse is racing. Luca nods, his eyes never leaving me as I walk toward the back of the café.

Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of what I'm about to do pressing down on me. I push open the door to the ladies' room, the air inside cooler, the soft hum of the fan the only sound.

My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket out of nervousness. It's Arianna again. She's called several times since all of this started, probably wondering why I've fallen off the face of the earth. But I don't have the energy to tell her everything yet. I need to get through this.

I silence the ring and slip the phone back in my pocket.

The restroom is small and clean, with a simple mirror above the sink and a few framed photos of dogs hanging on the walls. My eyes land on the one near the far corner as instructed—the photo of a silver Italian Greyhound, its regal, muscular frame showcased as he stands proud.

This is it. Of course he would have zeroed in on this photo.

I glance around as if someone could be in this single-stall room. I reach into my pocket, my trembling fingers brushing the folded paper with a time and place written on it.

Massage at 3:00, he will be alone except for the masseuse. Spa on the west side of the lodge.

The back door will be left wedged open, first room on the right.

The family will be at the parade, so you can slip in and out without being noticed—but bring a silencer .

Walk in through the front gates, don ' t drive, to avoid the guard.

Wear a hat.

My heart pounds so loudly in my ears that I can barely hear anything else. I step toward the photo, my movements quick but careful. With trembling fingers, I slip the note behind the frame, pushing it as far as it will go.

The moment it's done, a wave of anxiety crashes over me, like I've just crossed a line I can't uncross.

I take a deep breath, my hands trembling as I turn toward the sink. The cold water splashes against my skin, grounding me, but it doesn't wash away the fear that's settled deep in my chest.

My reflection in the mirror looks pale, tense, my hair a mess. I splash more water on my face, telling myself it's almost over. Just get back to Luca. Just act normal.

As I go to dry my hands I see the marks on my wrist, a gentle reminder of what will happen if I don't follow through with this. It's him or me.

I dry my hands, avoiding my own gaze, and push open the door, stepping back into the café. The warm, cozy air feels foreign now, too light, too far removed from the danger I just stepped out of.

Luca is waiting at a small table by the window. He scans the room before spotting me. His gaze sharpens, searching my face for any sign that something's wrong.

I force a smile, crossing the room and sitting beside him. "All set," I say, taking a sip of my coffee, trying to ignore the way my hands are still shaking .

He doesn't say anything, just watches me for a moment longer, then nods. "Good. Let's get out of here."

As we stand to leave, my stomach churns. The note is out there now, waiting for Marco's men. The plan is set in motion. It is out of my hands now, consequences be damned.

The cold bites at my cheeks as we walk down the quaint downtown street, the snow crunching beneath our feet. My heart is still racing from the café and leaving that note behind the photo in the bathroom. The tension from this whole thing feels like a weight on my chest, pressing down harder with each step.

I finish my cappuccino and I throw my cup away as we walk.

Now, walking beside Luca, I can't shake the urge to do something, anything to take my mind off what's coming. I can't go back to the lodge and watch the clock tick until three, when everything is supposed to go down.

I glance over at him, his jaw set in that familiar, serious way, and I know he's thinking about everything, too—Marco, the plan, and everything that could go wrong. He's always thinking ten steps ahead, always calculating. But right now, all I can think about is how much I need to burn off this nervous energy.

"Luca," I say, my voice cutting through the bustling holiday hum of the winter wonderland town.

"Yeah?" He glances at me, his brow furrowed .

"We have to find something to do," I say, exhaling slowly. "I need… something to take my mind off things. If we go back to the lodge I might lose my mind."

He stops walking, turning to face me. "Like what?"

I bite my lip, thinking about the town, the holiday lights strung up on every corner, the festive decorations in the windows of the shops. It feels so out of place with everything we're dealing with, but maybe that's exactly what I need. "Something Christmasy."

Luca raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. "Christmas-y? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"You know, like ice skating or the Christmas market all the normal people are flocking to. The parade isn't until four, but there must be things going on around here all day to get you in the spirit."

I know it sounds ridiculous, but the idea of doing something fun, something normal, feels like the only way to stay sane right now.

"Come on," I urge. "Just for a little while. I need it, and with that Grinch scowl you've got going on, something tells me you could use a little holiday cheer, too."

He shakes his head, that hard look softening just slightly. "I'm not exactly the festive type. I'll sit and watch while you partake."

"Oh, that sounds like a load of fun."

"Fiamma, why are you always pushing?"

"'Cause that's what I do," I say, smiling up at him. I can tell I'm slowly chiseling away at the six-inch snowpack of ice and snow he has built all around him. "Seriously, do you think sitting there in that living room looking at each other will be good for anyone?"

"I'll try to get in the Christmas spirit. It's not exactly the easiest thing to do, forget about the man who kidnapped and tortured you who I am scheduled to kill in a few hours, but…"

"I know," I say, giving him a playful smile. "But I'm not asking for much. Just an hour. I need to get out of my head before this all goes down."

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. I can tell he's considering it, even though he doesn't want to admit it. "Fine. But don't think this means I'm putting on a Santa hat."

I laugh, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. "No Santa hat. I promise."

We walk toward the town square, and as we round the corner, the Christmas market comes into view. The lights twinkle in the trees, and the smell of roasting chestnuts and cinnamon fills the air.

It's like something out of a postcard with the snow-covered stalls, the soft hum of "Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer" playing in the background, and people bundled up in scarves and mittens, smiling as they sip their hot cider.

It's surreal, like we've stepped into a different world. A world that isn't falling apart, where danger isn't lurking in every shadow, where a hit isn't scheduled to take place because of a meeting I put into place.

Luca grumbles under his breath, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as we weave through the market stalls. "This is… festive," he says, his tone begrudgingly impressed.

I laugh again, the tension inside me easing just a little. "See? Not so bad. It's just walking around, looking at all the magical decorations. It really does put you in the mood, right?"

"I guess."

We stop at a stall selling handmade ornaments, and I pick one up—a delicate glass star with gold flecks inside. I turn it over in my hands, the lights reflecting off the surface, and for a second, I forget about everything. I forget about Marco, the danger, the fact that I was bound to a chair and made to run through the snow just yesterday. I decide to just let myself be in this moment.

Luca watches me. A slight smile spreads as I set the ornament back down. "You doing okay?" he asks quietly.

I nod, though my heart is still racing. "I will be. I needed this, so thank you for indulging me. It's good for my soul."

He nods, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary, and I feel that familiar warmth creeping up inside me. Even though everything's a mess, even though we're in the middle of something dark and dangerous, Luca has this way of making me feel safe.

The snow starts to fall again, softly at first, then heavier as the wind picks up. The lights around us glow brighter as the sky gets a little darker gray, and the whole world feels suspended in this quiet, peaceful moment. It's easy to forget, just for a second, what's waiting for us when we go back to the lodge .

"You're right," Luca says, breaking the silence. "We both needed this. I've enjoyed this. So, thank you, for pushing me."

I smile, nudging him with my shoulder. "It feels good to visit a fairytale every once in a while, huh?"

He doesn't argue, and for a brief moment, we're just two people, walking through a Christmas market with regular folks instead of mobsters, bodyguards and hitmen. It's nice to focus on this instead of on what's coming.

I know, deep down, this moment won't last. Soon enough, we'll be back in the thick of it, facing Marco, and everything will come crashing down. But for now, I let myself enjoy it.