Page 2 of Bitter When He Begs

And I’m absolutely, completely, one hundred percent fucked.

“I asked you a question,” he says in a quieter tone, and somehow, that’s worse. Loud you can handle. Loud ispredictable. But this? This calm, quiet Luca? This version could bury a body in the woods and go back to class like nothing happened.

I try to swallow, but my throat doesn’t work. “I was just—”

He steps closer; my back is flush against the lockers and he’s pressing in like gravity decided I don’t need personal space. He’s taller than I am, all lean muscle under his Blackthorne U shirt, and I notice a bead of water sliding from his jaw to his throat.

His hand is still on my shoulder, holding me there. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he says, and it’s not a threat, it’s a fucking fact.

“I didn’t—I didn’t hear anything,” I lie.Badly.It comes out shaky and way too fast.

He hums. Low. Dangerous. “You’re a shitty liar, Sage.”

My name in his mouth makes my stomach drop.

Luca fucking Devereaux knows my name. Has me pinned against a locker like I did something worth killing over. Smells like heaven, looks like sin, and might break my face if I breathe wrong.

I shake my head and his gaze flicks over my face, then lower. There’s something calculating in the way he looks at me, like he’s figuring out whether I’m a threat or a problem. Or maybe just something to crush beneath his boot.

“Sage Blackwell,” he says, almost thoughtful, like we’re fucking friends. “Tell me something. What exactly did you hear?”

I force myself to swallow. “N-nothing—”

“Try again,” he says, smiling, but it’s a mean fucking smile.

I shake my head again and try to push past him, but he doesn’t move. He just presses in closer; one hand braces against the locker next to my head, the other curling around my throat.

“Here’s the thing, Sunshine, I think you heard too much,” he muses lazily, but I don’t miss the threat beneath those words.

“I didn’t—” I whisper and swallow hard. “I didn’t hear shit. I’m here because of a Sigma Rho dare.”

His grin widens. “See, that’s the problem, Blackwell. I don’t believe you.” He tilts his head to the side and tightens his grip on my throat. “Tell me why I shouldn’t ruin your fucking life?”

I breathe in, and I swear I inhale half his cologne. My brain short-circuits. “Because I don’t care about your fucked up little secrets?”

Luca chuckles, and fuck, it’s almost worse than if he snapped. It’s slow, amused and ice cold. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says and leans in close to my ear. “You care now.”

My stomach twists. That’s not a warning, it’s a fucking promise.

“You’re new here, yeah?” I don’t answer because he already knows. His eyes drag over me again in an assessing gaze. “Which means no one’s got your back yet. No safety net, no one to run to. Which makes you mine.”

I bristle and heat rises from my neck to the tips of my ears. “I don’t belong to you.”

Luca hums, amusement woven into the sound. “Not yet.”

My jaw clenches, but before I can respond, his smirk fades, and my stomach drops right into my ass. “You want into Sigma Rho, right?”

“That’s none of your business—”

He makes a thoughtful noise, like he’s already picked apart every little detail about me. How the fuck does he know who I am, anyway?

“Daddy pushing you into the legacy track? Yeah, I’ve heard about you, Blackwell. Smart as fuck, rich kid with a trust fund, but with no real weight at Blackthorne yet. You want to make it through initiation? Keep that shiny frat boy future intact?” he leans in closer, his breath warm against my jaw. “Then you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

A chill slides down my spine.

“I—”

“If you don’t, I’ll make sure you never get in through Sigma Rho’s doors,” he murmurs, like it’s a casual afterthought. “One word from me, and you’re out. You really think they’d risk their reputation for a nobody legacy with a trust fund?”