"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"I was born with an insatiable appetite for destruction."-
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The light came in soft.
Muted by sheer curtains, it painted the bedroom in a hazy silver glow — quiet, gentle, like the world knew not to intrude too loudly. For once.
Kaia stirred first.
Barely.
A shift of her leg beneath the sheets. A small exhale, raspy at the edges. Her body ached — in a way that was unmistakable. Deep in her thighs, between her ribs, across her shoulders and wrists where he'd held her too tightly. Bruises were already blooming beneath porcelain skin, soft and dark like pressed violets.
She winced as she rolled onto her side.
"Morning to you too," came Luca's voice, thick and low beside her.
She didn't open her eyes. "Are you always this cheerful after war crimes?"
He chuckled — just a breath — and shifted behind her, his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.
"You're still breathing, aren't you?"
"Barely."
He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, the scrape of stubble drawing another soft wince from her. "Stop squirming," she muttered. "Everything hurts."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being bruised."
Luca's hand drifted lower, skimming over her hip, thumb brushing one of the darker marks he'd left.
His voice dropped. "Still pretty, though."
She rolled her eyes and tried to sit up, only to fall back with a sharp inhale. "Okay. Never doing that again."
"That's a lie," he said, smug and unapologetic.
"Shut up."
They stayed there a moment longer — tangled, slow, still caught in that soft, golden space between pain and comfort. But Kaia's mind was already ticking back to life.
She sighed. "The gala's tonight."
Luca groaned into her shoulder like a man being dragged back into hell. "Don't remind me."
"Your parents are flying in."
"Don't remind me twice."
Kaia exhaled slowly, already calculating the day ahead. "And they'll arrive a few hours before the gala?"
"Mmhm."
"So I have... two hours to run security, finalize arrangements, threaten the caterers, prep the alliance docs, and look presentable enough that your mother doesn't think I'm a paid escort."
