Page 84 of Beauty and the Daddy

"You're trembling," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Good sex will do that." I laugh shakily.

He chuckles. His hand strokes my back, soothing now rather than inflaming.

This is the moment, I know. I should tell him about the baby. About the life growing inside me that's half him, half me. The words bubble up in my throat.

"Luca, I?—"

The crack of gunfire shatters our perfect moment like glass.

We freeze, naked vulnerability replaced by cold terror in a heartbeat. Luca's arms turn from lover's embrace to protective cage.

More shots, rapid fire, automatic weapons, followed by shouts from the perimeter. Men screaming orders. The sound of a war coming to our doorstep.

"Move," Luca snarls, already transforming into the Beast of New York. "Someone's breached the compound."

We adjust our clothes with frantic hands. My panties are still around my thighs—I yank them up as Luca tucks himself away and zips his fly.

Luca, the lover, is gone, replaced by the Beast of New York.

"Stay behind me," he orders, pulling me toward the French doors.

He beelines for one of those gorgeous old-world paintings I've admired. Behind it? A safe. He pulls out two guns so fast my head spins.

Another shot rings out, closer this time.

Someone's here.

18

LUCA

The house wakes up ugly: shouting on comms, boots on gravel, the radio spitting codes that meannot a drill.

Gunshots crack the night.

"Behind me," I tell Belle, already moving. French doors. Gun safe. Next, hallway. I draw and clear before I let Belle follow.

But just then, I see men who aren't mine.

I shove Belle behind me so hard she stumbles.

No time for gentle. No time for sorry.

Two shadows in tactical gear surge up the staircase, their gear slick with blood that isn't theirs. My men's blood.

I slam Belle against the wall, body shielding her. "Don't fucking move."

The lead gunman spots me and his eyes go wide. "Moretti!" he screams, weapon swinging toward us.

Not today.

My Glock barks twice—center mass, clean shots. He drops like a marionette with cut strings, rifle clattering down the stairs.

Then I add in a headshot just for insurance, even though he's dead. His partner moves back down the stairs, where I can't exactly see where he is.

"Fucking coward," I hiss.