Page 27 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Luca

I hadn’t meant to sleep in, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of peace. A rare, fleeting sense of fulfillment. Maybe it’s because she’s beside me. Her warmth. Her scent. The reminder that I have a son… a family.

Everything feels right for the first time in years. And I had to go and fuck it up. By touching her. By pretending, even for a second, that she was mine when I know she only responded to my touch because I forced it on her. Not because she truly wants me.

I shut the bedroom door behind me, careful not to let it slam though part of me wants the noise. I want the impact. I want something to break, so it doesn’t have to be me.

My jaw clenches, my hands ball into fists at my sides as I stand in the hallway, staring at nothing. She came undone for me. Even after everything I’ve done, everything I am she still wrapped herself around me like I was worthy of love.

Like she wanted the monster. Her kiss didn’t soothe it ignited. A molten fire tearing through the hollow parts of me I thought were devoid of emotion.

And God help me; I wanted her back. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I was one thrust away from losing control. From claiming her not just as my wife, but as mine in every freaking way. Mind, body, soul. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because if I take her now, while she’s still mourning the life I stole from her, it won’t be love. And I’m a selfish bastard who wants it all.

I drag in a slow, punishing breath and start walking. Each step feels like I’m hauling my guilt behind me like a corpse. I don’t know if I’m a better man for stopping or a worse one for wanting her that badly in the first place.

But I do know one thing. She thinks I walked away because I didn’t want her. She’s wrong. I want everything, not just her body. I want her heart, her soul. And I’ve only had a taste of it—but it’s already haunting me.

The way she looked at me after the kiss, the way she clung to me… it felt real. And now I’m starving for more. This life—the life of a mobster is a fucking gamble.

I could get sniped, stabbed, or blown to pieces any damn day. So if I see even a sliver of happiness, I’m taking the shot. I turn down the west wing to check on my son before heading downstairs. I’m met by Griselda.

“Good morning,” she says, quickly ushering me into the kitchen before I can wave her off, I prefer to eat out, but she won’t hear of it.

“I made you toast and scrambled eggs with coffee. Just how you like it. Black, no sugar.”

I blow on the coffee before taking a sip.

“I still don’t know how you drink that with a straight face,” she mutters.

“It’s good. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll pass.”

I start digging into the breakfast—quickly—because I know where her next question is heading.

“Ariel… she’s a sweet girl,” she says casually.

“Hmm,” I grunt around a mouthful of toast.

“She and I had a little chat.”

Suddenly, I’m more interested in where this is going. I slow down, taking smaller bites. “Did she say anything about me?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant as I lift my half-empty coffee cup. Griselda gives me a knowing look over the rim of her mug.

“She said enough,” she replies, sipping her tea like it’s no big deal but I can tell she’s holding something back.

“You should talk to her,” she adds, setting her cup down.

“Women like to be wooed, not dragged around like some cavewoman.”

I gulp down the last of my coffee and push back my chair. Standing, I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

“I’ll try to do better,” I murmur. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Without waiting for her reply, I walk out of the house and head straight to the garage. I slide into my blood-red Ferrari 812 Superfast, the car I always choose when my thoughts are a mess and my mood’s darker than asphalt.

Its aggressive growl, sleek lines, and raw power match the storm brewing inside me. As I make my way out of the estate, I glance at our bedroom window through the rearview mirror and spot her watching me.

Her arms are crossed, a pissed look on her face that could cut glass. Damn. How the hell am I supposed to woo this woman when all I seem to do is piss her off? And make her hate me. I mutter a curse under my breath as I speed off toward the office.