Chapter 2

2

LILA

T his is him? Luca, my stepbrother? The guy who gets paid to guard celebrities, politicians, and the upper crust? Who has no digital footprint? Whose name yields no search results except for an old man living across the pond, teaching math in a public school?

I saw his photo, yes, but it didn't prepare me for how he looked in real life. Those images don't do justice to how handsome he is, in a rough and rugged way.

His face is all sharp and squared angles—razor-sharp jawline and straight nose, the lower half of his face darkened by stubble. The black hair falls in thick waves over his forehead and stops just above his ears.

In an all-black ensemble, his imposing size towers over me. Raw, brute strength oozes out from his pores, and as he stands there in his black jeans, black shoes, and black Henley shirt, the sight is enough to convince me that whatever danger my new stepfather is running away from, Luca can protect me from it.

This is a man I will run to when shit goes sideways.

I would call him hot, but even that word wouldn't suffice. He sucks the oxygen in the room, or maybe that's just because I'm having trouble breathing while watching him.

He's not even doing anything, and yet his gaze feels personal … intimate even, scorching a hot trail across my skin.

His face is devoid of expression, but I don't miss the almost murderous glint in his chocolate-brown eyes as he watches his father leave.

What is going on here? When I left school earlier, I thought I was just gonna come home to Mom and Phillip packing for their vacation. Now I find out he's in deep trouble, dangerous enough that I can either go with them or stay here with my stepbrother.

There's so much Phillip's not telling us, and it makes me uncomfortable. He was too good to be true when Mom introduced him to me. He showed off his wealth, and that pretty much convinced me he used to be poor. He said he was into investments, and I didn't believe him one bit.

And when he brought us to this estate, Mom immediately jumped at the chance to marry him despite not fully knowing where he got his money.

Christ.

I shake all of those thoughts away. No point lingering in the past. What matters is the here and now.

And the only here and now is this six-foot-something behemoth scowling at me as though any of these is my fault. Or maybe that's just his default face. He doesn't seem like someone who smiles or laughs a lot.

"Hi. I'm Lila." I extend a hand to him, and he stares at it for so long that I begin to pull back just when he wraps his massive hand around mine. If he wants to crush my fingers, he easily can. Yet, for some unknown reason, I know he won't.

Luca won't ever hurt me intentionally.

"Luca."

His deep baritone voice skims along my skin, and his touch sets off tiny sparks all over my body, making something flare low in my belly. My thighs automatically cinch together, and a whimper gets lodged in my throat.

"Do you have a wife or girlfriend, Luca?"

His eyebrows lift towards his hairline. The expression doesn't fit him, so I smile despite his visible shock. "No. Why?"

"I just want to know if anyone has issues with you staying with me."

"What makes you think I will stay?"

Even as the words leave his lips, we both know the answer, especially with the way his thumb grazes my knuckles. It's nothing more than a prolonged handshake, and I'm reacting like we're in some kind of weird foreplay.

The effect on him isn't lost on me either.

His eyes darken, and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

"Well," I say, "you haven't left yet, so…"

Luca drops my hand, and I take it as a personal loss. "Why don't you check into a hotel? I don't know who my dad pissed off, but staying here isn't a great idea." He pushes his tongue on the inside of his cheek as his gaze wanders. "He's never had to run away before, so this—whatever it is—freaks him out."

"Never had to run away before?"

He raises a brow at me, and it somehow makes him look ten times hotter. "You haven't figured out what he does for a living?"

Confusion descends on me. I had my theories, but my own mom tended to gravitate toward men with serious money. "Not really. Some kind of hedge fund?"

The laughter bursting out of him whips through the silence, the sound bouncing on the walls. "He's a fucking grifter. He makes money off unsuspecting people."

Goddammit. "Should we report him to the cops?"

"Only if you have enough evidence. Dad's been doing this all his life, so you best believe he has his ass covered."

Mom won't care, though. Even if I tell her, she'll shrug it off since the most important things for her are her clothes, jewelry, bags, and travels. She doesn't care where the money comes from as long as it never stops coming.

They're a match made in heaven.

"I'm serious about the hotel. Staying here is a bad idea."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Luca, but I've never been known to have brilliant ideas." I laugh softly, my heart dropping at the realization that I moved to this state for my mom, and now she's off gallivanting somewhere. "I won't stay at a hotel when I already live in something that looks like one." I sweep my arm toward the sliding doors. "I have the pool all to myself. Now, why would I want to leave?"

Luca folds his corded forearms over his chest. "Because you might be in danger."

"Ah, well, if only there was someone capable of protecting me. Someone highly experienced in the field of protecting high-profile people."

His eyes glaze over, the little crease between his thick, bushy brows deepening. His gaze narrows just a bit as he tries to understand what I just said.

And it hits me. "You're not actually a bodyguard, are you?"

His lips are slightly parted as he shakes his head slowly. "No."

"Shit. I should've known."

"What else did he tell you about me? I need to learn everything I can about myself."

I'm beginning to understand his dry sense of humor, and it pulls a smile out of me. "Nothing else. He rarely talked about you, but he had to explain that photo of him with a kid. Anyway" —I clap my hands once and clasp them together— "what is it you really do?"

"It's not something I want to talk about."

I grin. "Okayyy, but I have to warn you. I have this uncanny ability to coax stories and secrets from people."

Maybe I'm imagining it, but the side of his mouth lifts ever so slightly, amusement passing his features as quickly as it came. "You mean to torture information out of me?"

"If it comes to that."

"Good luck."

The smile playing on his lips is so unexpected that I beam back at him. I'm not the type who feels at ease with people I've just met, but talking to Luca is like chatting with someone I've known for a long, long time. It's probably a few minutes that we stand there like that, facing each other, amusement on our faces.

The silence between us stretches on until the smiles begin to feel awkward, and the air between us thickens.

Luca is no longer smiling as he casts a long look at my mouth before swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. My hand grips the cotton fabric of my dress.

I'm aware I don't look much. My own mother used to tease me about looking frumpy whenever I left the house. I don't disagree.

I was born with generous curves—size 36C coupled with wide hips and a big ass. I once wore a tight-fitting dress, and Mom laughed at my "lovely but pathetic attempt to seduce boys", even though that was never my intention. I never forgot that, and so I always made it a point to wear shapeless clothes that take away the attention from my figure.

As a guidance counselor, I want everyone to take me seriously at my job, and the last thing I need is men ogling me as I work.

In front of Luca, however, I might as well have been naked. With the way he rakes his hot gaze up and down my body, it's as if he's peeling one layer of clothing at a time.

I shouldn't like it, but I do.

God knows I do.

Even if it's wrong because he's my stepbrother, and he's supposed to be family.

And yet.

Girl, this isn't the time.

I pull myself together since I still need to process everything that happened today. Besides, it's been a long day at work, and I'm fighting just to stay awake. "Okay, then. Goodnight, Luca. See you in the morning."

I'm halfway to the stairs when he calls out, "I haven't decided if I'm staying."

I cast him a smile over my shoulder. "Oh, we both know you are."

I wake up to the feel of a huge hand over my mouth. Awareness comes in slow degrees, and in between sleep and full wakefulness, my stomach coils in a knot, unease prickling over my skin. Without knowing what's happening, my gut flutters with fear and alarm.

My instinct is to scream and shove whoever it is away, but an urgent voice breaks through the fear and panic clouding my mind. "Quiet, Lila. It's just me."

Everything around me is pitch black, and it takes a few seconds to realize why there's another man in the house who's not my stepfather. My eyes strain against the darkness, trying to make sense of the shadows in the room.

A massive figure stands by the bed, hunched over.

Luca.

What is he doing? What's going on?

"I need you to listen to me," he says in a rush, voice low and quiet. "There are men downstairs, so you have to be quiet. I will protect you, but you need to help me."

My eyes widen, fear climbing the back of my throat. Men? Are they here for Phillip? Or will they take whoever's available? What do they want? How many are there? Can Luca fight them all off?

"Come on, Lila. Stay with me." His face is closer now. "I'm going to take off my hand, but you won't scream, okay? Stay quiet."

I can only nod as he lowers his hand. I'm still trying to make sense of the situation when we both hear it at the same time—a dull thud in the hallway. It sounds like the massive vase around five doors from mine.

Luca goes rigid, turning his head slightly toward the door, and I sense the shift in him. When he faces me again, he wraps a hand around my wrist, tugging me to stand and lifting a finger over his lips—a reminder for me to stay silent.

There's nowhere to hide. The bathroom door often creaks, the bed is too low to the floor, and there's nothing else … except.

He leads me toward the wardrobe in front of the bed. It's big enough to fit both of us, and he eases it open as quietly as he can, the hinges creaking just enough to make my breath catch.

The space inside is cramped, filled with my clothes, shoes, trench coats, jackets, and all the important files in one corner.

He pushes me inside first and follows quickly, pulling the door shut behind us and plunging us into total darkness. The air is stifling, and his bare back is pressed against my breast, my own back against the hard wooden wall of the cabinet.

Clothing brushes against the sides of my face, and in here, every sound seems magnified.

I don't even dare to breathe.

We both strain to hear any sound, Luca's frame completely blocking me.

Soft, deliberate footsteps move through the hallway, stopping in front of my door, followed by a faint groan. It's a long, drawn-out sound, and Luca's muscles tense, as though he's ready to spring into whoever this intruder is.

The door swings open fully, and I hear not one or two but multiple footsteps.

Oh God. It's not just one man.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands flying to my mouth, when the footsteps grow louder, closer.

The seconds stretch into what feels like hours, and the fear settles into a cold, hard knot in my stomach. Luca reaches for my hand, squeezing it, even as sweat soaks my nightgown, beads sliding down my spine.

The heavy, haunting silence is suddenly replaced by low murmurs of voices. I can't make out what they're saying since the pulse is too loud in my ears.

I can hear the tension in their hushed voices, though, voices overlapping, words laced with urgency, the whispers sharp and quick.

Luca begins to crouch in front of me—or at least, his version of a crouch, given the small space. He's preparing himself to fight if they open the door.

But they don't.

A suffocating weight presses down on me, and I lean into Luca for support. His sweaty skin against my cheek as I try to get more air into my lungs.

Every breath I take is shallow and fast, my pulse a rapid, relentless thudding in my temples that grows louder and louder. The cold sweat on my palms makes them slick as I abandon any self-preservation and wrap my arms around Luca's waist.

I can't stop the flood of terrifying thoughts racing in my head. I should've left. I should've listened to him and packed out of here.

But I didn't. Now we're going to die.

My stomach churns, a wave of nausea rising. Under my palms, Luca's muscles coil tightly like a spring. The urge to run, to escape, is almost overwhelming, but there's nowhere to run.

All we have is this thin door separating us from them. The darkness inside is alive, crawling on my skin, filling my mind with terror.

Just when I think I can't take it anymore, that the panic is about to boil over and consume me, I feel Luca rest a hand over mine. "They're gone."

I'm not ready to believe him until I hear the footsteps grow fainter, moving farther away from us. A few minutes later, a car door opens, and its engine rumbles.

The car idles for a moment, and then we hear a crunching sound of tires on gravel.

My body unclenches, fear draining away.

"Lila, I need to check if they're really gone," he whispers.

I'm still frozen in place, and the last thing I want is to be alone. "Please don't leave me."

"Just stay here, so I can?—"

"No. Please, Luca."

And so we spend the next half hour going from room to room, Luca checking under the bed, inside the bathrooms, and anywhere else people can hide and surprise us.

When everything's clear, I'm still trailing behind Luca, tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants because it's his only piece of clothing. It's at this moment when I become aware of things other than my fear, like the scars crisscrossing his back—jagged lines, some lighter than his skin, others raised, the skin puckered in some places, some tight.

My throat tightens, and without thinking, I touch them, brushing a finger along the biggest one running from his shoulder to his lower back.

Luca flinches, and I wonder if I crossed a line. "I'm sorry, Lila. I went to you the moment I heard them, and I didn't have time to put on a shirt."

"Sorry for what?"

He turns around, his eyes—normally blank and expressionless—full of worry and uncertainty. "Showing you the monster that I am."

"M-monster?"

"You asked earlier what I do." He clenches his jaw, steeling himself for what he's about to tell me. "I kill people for a living."

I just stare at him blankly. "What?"

"I get orders from my handler, and I carry out the missions without question."

"Who do you usually kill?"

"People in power whose victims will never get justice until I hand it to them."

Oh my God. He's a killer. A cold-blooded killer. He kills the untouchables, but still…

Luca steps back and runs a hand through his hair, messing it further. "You don't want to be near me, Lila. I'm a monster, and the only reason I didn't go on a killing spree tonight with those intruders is because you're here, and I didn't want you getting caught in the crossfire."

What does it say about me when the only thing running through my head is how he's willing to take another person's life to protect me? Am I sick? Am I as much of a psychopath as him?

"You'd do that for me? Kill them?"

The question floats between us as I walk closer to him until only an inch of air separates us.

Luca sighs and drops his gaze to my chest. Only then do I realize I have nothing but a thin nightgown on. I don't have any underwear. Instead of feeling self-conscious, though, I go against every instinct to cover myself.

Desire cuts across his face, causing a hot buzz in my core. "Yes, Lila. I would kill for you."

With courage I didn't know I had, I stand on my toes and graze his rough jaw with my knuckle. He snaps his eyes shut as tension buzzes like live wires between us. A whimper leaves my mouth as something thick and long prods against my stomach.

"Luca…"

My fingers feather across his hard chest, but Luca staggers back, scrubbing a hand across his face. "No, Lila. We can't. This is wrong."

Hurt pierces through me, and my voice breaks when I ask, "Says who?" His head snaps back to me. "Some would say killing people for a living is wrong, so I'm not sure what's the issue." I step forward, and he steps back. "You kill people, but you draw the line at doing what you want to do to your stepsister."

"You don't know what I want to do to you," he growls, his face coming alive with lust … and longing.

"Then do it. Show me."

Luca shakes his head and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "You're too good for me."

"You don't know that!" I snap. Maybe it's me coming down from the adrenaline or the heady rush from escaping danger, but I just need to feel his hands on me. "Touch me, Luca. Kiss me." I rub myself against him, moaning at how big he feels with his sweatpants molding on his cock. "Fuck me."

The last words are barely out of my mouth before he cups my face and crushes his lips to mine. Explosions go off in my head, and I cling to him, digging my fingers into his shoulders.

As he plunges his tongue into my mouth, we stumble-walk until the back of my legs hit the bar stool.

"Say it again," Luca says against my skin as he peppers me with kisses, trailing his lips along my jaw and down the side of my neck.

"S-say what?"

"Tell me to fuck you."

"Fuck me."

"With pleasure."

In one swoop, he lifts me and deposits my ass on the stool, and he lifts the lever to adjust the height until my pussy is facing his cock. Genius.

"Listen to me, Lila. Once I claim this pussy, it's going to be mine forever. No one else can have this." He cups me through my nightgown, and my hands grip the sides of the stool, my back arching. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I-I'm yours, Luca. Please."

He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth. "Please what, baby?"

"Fuck me."

He kisses me long and hard as he slides my nightgown and bunches it around my waist. I'm bare and fully exposed, but I don't even care right now. I just need him inside me.

Luca drops his pants to the floor, his cock springing free. I force myself to swallow as his size makes my eyes bug out of their sockets. I'm not sure it will fit, but even if it kills me, at least I'll die with him buried inside me.

Weird logic, but whatever.

He rubs the tip along my slit and throws his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallows. "Fuck, baby. You're so wet."

"Please, Luca. I can't take it anymore."

His smile is full of wicked promise as he positions himself in front of my entrance, spreading my legs wider apart, his thumb teasing my clit. I look down at the way he's rubbing circles, but he stops and uses that same hand to lift my face back to him. "Eyes here, baby."

Luca grips my thighs and doesn't break eye contact when his cock slides between my lips and into my soaking-wet inner walls. He stretches me, and there's a pinch of pain, but the pleasure overrides it.

He's patient and slow, pushing into me until he's fully seated. Until there's nothing between us anymore.

Luca sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward to kiss my shoulder. "Can I be rough with you, Lila? Can you take it?"

I don't even hesitate. "Yes!"

He slides out of me only to ram his hips forward, causing the stool to wobble. But he's not going to let me fall. He grips the stool as he begins his thrusts—slow at first and increasing his pace until the sound of flesh slapping echoes through the walls.

When he lowers his head to suck on the skin above my breast, my orgasm hits me like a freight train. I'm still fluttering around him, still haven't recovered from the mind-blowing sensations when he lifts me and sets me on the marble countertop.

Luca lays me on top—the cold, hard surface shocking to my senses— and hovers above me, smirking before sucking one nipple into his mouth. A fresh wave of pleasure courses through me, making me yank his hair. He laves me with his tongue and does the same with the other nipple. And in between sucking and licking, he slips inside me again.

"I-I don't think I can come again so soon," I tell him, my voice as shaky as my legs.

He raises a brow at me in a challenge. "We'll see."

As promised, he gets rougher with me. He grabs my waist and pounds into me, his hair sticking to his forehead, sweat sliding down his neck and chest and falling onto me.

The sounds we make are almost inhuman, and just when I thought I didn't have it in me anymore, I let out a low moan, stars exploding before my eyes.

Luca becomes uncoordinated, his thrusts frantic and wild. Flush creeps on his skin.

He swells inside me, and I slump on the counter as my pussy gets coated with his warm come, so much come that it spills out of me. I watch him as he watches where our bodies connect.

When he lifts his eyes to me, something comes alive within me.

Oh God. I'm in such big trouble.