Luca POV
I'm so fucking giddy right now.
I keep looking towards my bedroom door to see if she's awake yet, checking inside to see if she's asleep or in the bathroom or in the shower or if she's flown out of the window to escape me.
If it's the latter, I have a parachute.
Most of the times I just readjust the curtains so no sun can shine in her face.
I look at the breakfast in front of me.
Maybe I went a little overboard.
Eggs, bacon, waffles, pancakes, French toast, avocado toast, egg on toast, smoothies, apple juice— because she doesn't like orange juice with the pulp and that's all I have— protein shakes, milkshakes, macaroons, coffee cake, lemon poppy seed muf... anyways, it's safe to say I was... excited.
I check the clock. It's only been two minutes since I last checked. What's the harm in just one mo— my bedroom doors open.
She emerges, hair going in all different directions, a big t-shirt— my t-shirt— draped across her shoulders and hanging low on her, just below her ass. A pair of my checkered boxers peek out from under it.
She struts down the hallway, a slight limp in her step that makes me think of the things I did to her last night.
Hahahaha. Take that Zane. Fucking annoying rude loser manwhore Zane. She's mine. And now there's proof.
I adjust my sweatpants and glance towards the food, focusing on scrambling the last egg, actually, focusing on anything but that sight.
I feel when she enters the kitchen, my spine going subconsciously straight. She clears her throat, and a smile develops on my lips as I continue to pretend to ignore her. Her foot taps echo around the kitchen.
"Luca." She huffs after a moment or two, and my skin prickles at the awareness of her proximity.
I look over my shoulder with an impish smile that she scowls at, reaching my arm out and around her shoulders to pull her in front of me, her back to my front.
I pull her waist so she's not too close to the stove and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "Look at the news." She grumbles, finger-combing her tangled hair.
I kiss below her ear. "No Good Morning?" I whisper, dragging my lips across her skin until resting my head on her shoulder.
She turns her head my way and frowns. "No. I can barely walk now because of you." She leans forward, scooping the icing off of a muffin.
I chuckle. This girl is so grumpy in the mornings. "You didn't seem to be complaining last night."
She turns her head over her shoulder again, white frosting on the corner of her mouth that makes me think very unholy thoughts. "How's your nose doing?" She taunts, sticking her tongue to swipe off the frosting.
Not well, if you were wondering. I don't think I've ever had my nose fracture from a single punch.
I smile, letting go of her to watch her go around my kitchen and look at all the food choices.
She doesn't even realize how fucking cute she is.
I pull out my phone while she does so, checking the news and sure enough, I'm a headline!
Whoopee! #famous.
I scroll through the various articles, each one concerningly specific.
Someone tracked who left the party through the front door, apparently Ivy and I were the only ones who didn't.
Someone's date at the gala said we were "getting cozy", whatever the fuck that means, and it appears people are go fucking insane over this.
And, to top it all off, one of my members found a way to release my suppressed paparazzi photos with her to the internet.
"Where's your chef?" She questions, peering over the different choices.
I let out a cocky smirk, setting the phone down on the island. "I don't have a chef."
She whips around, hair swinging across her back. Her eyes widen. "You made all of this?" She inquires, taking a skeptical step back towards me.
I bite my lip, taking a fist full of my shirt on her and yanking her to me. She stumbles at the tug, circling her arms around my torso to steady herself. "Mhm." I reply, taking her lips to mine.
They're soft, and sweet, and warm, and mine. "Ti amo." I mumble against them, pulling her closer.
She smiles, sending a fucking warm feeling to my chest. However, I most certainly do not miss the coy undertone of it. "Feeling's not mutual." She says flatly, a slight glint in her eyes.
I pinch her side and she tries to wiggle away, cackling to herself like she's the funniest person on planet earth.
I yank her back to me, spinning her around flush against me. I give her my most unamused face. She strokes my cheek. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She's not sorry. "ty vyglyadish' kak nosorog." She says it sweetly but I frown, knowing that sounds a little too long for an "I love you too."
She giggles, looping her arms around my neck and tugging. I stay where I am, determined to get a proper reply.
She shakes her head at my stubborness, leaning her forehead against mine. Her expression turns serious. "I promise I love you." She whispers, and my stomach does some fucking flip-flop at her words.
Yeah. She does love me. Ivy King loves me and no other man and there's nothing you can do about it because she's meant for me. She's stuck with me for the rest of her life.
And I made her cum four more times after she told me. That's seven in total B T Doubles.
Before I can lean down and brush my lips against hers, the sound of the door slamming open resonates and rumbles against the walls.
Shoving Ivy behind me, I reach for my gun in my waistband. I flick the safety off and point it towards the rustling in the hallway.
A figure strolls in, brown hair bouncing with every step. Isabella struts into the kitchen non chalantly, blowing a big pink bubble, slowly, and letting it pop around her mouth.
I lower my gun, letting it clatter onto the kitchen island. Running my hand down my face stressfully, releasing my grip on Ivy's side behind me. "Fucking hell." I mutter, pulling her back in front of me, my hands lingering on her cold skin.
I turned the temperature up this morning for the fragile flower in front of me, but you would still think she just came in a boat from the Arctic tundra.
I can feel her body shaking slightly against me, and almost go to get her a hoodie, until the sounds of her sweet laughter fill the room.
I feel her muscles contract against my hands as she tries to stifle her manic laughs, throwing her head back against my chest and wiping the amused tears out of her eyes.
Iz looks absolutely delighted she's found a partner to taunt me with, her eyes wide, some evil plan no doubt already forming in her head.
Purple and red marks scatter Ivy's collarbone, revealed to only me with her arched back against me. My eyes linger there. Maybe I went a little savage last night.
"I like your girlfriend more than I like you." Iz states, absolutely serious with the flat stare she gives me.
Is that what she is? It seems so insufficient to the way I feel about her, but she's mine. And if that's what it takes to make that clear to every man on earth, then so fucking be it.
Iz's eyes flit behind me. "Ooohhh! Yummy!" She licks her lips, moving past me to my left.
I stick my hand out and firmly place it on the island, blocking her way. "Keeps your paws off her food." I warn, earning two glares— which is like, totally uncalled for because I'm literally defending Ivy and she's already being coerced against me— but at least Iz still reluctantly backs away.
"Never met someone so possessive." Iz grumbles, backing away and very obviously contemplating dashing to the other side.
I slap my hand onto the other side and send her a warning glare, resisting the urge to let go and agrravatedly pinch my nose. "Why are you here?"
Iz mock-pouts. "Wowwww." She huffs. "I see how it is. What a world. What ever happened to innocent sibling love?"
"You happened." I grumble to myself, but by the annoyed look she's giving me right now, she heard it.
Whatevs. #YOLO.
She rolls her eyes. "Actually," She draws the word out, and I start to grow impossibly more impatient.
"I came here sorta because of the whole You're-The-New-Don-Of-One-Of-The-Most-Powerful-Mafias-In-The-World-Thing."
I drop my hands from the counter and continue scrambling the eggs, feeling Ivy's apprehensive eyes on me. "Oh." I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth, ignoring the both of them. "That."
I glance to my left, finding Ivy awkwardly wringing her hands out and looking down at them while Iz glances between the two of us. "Yeah. That."
I let out an irritated sigh and stand up straight, facing Isabella fully now. Ivy discreetly slinks out of my view, and I have to stop myself from grabbing the back of her shirt and snapping her back to me, and have to just let her walk down the left hallway.
I run my hand along my jaw, slowly averting my gaze from her retreating figure to an irritated Isabella. "Just let me have fucking breakfast before harassing me about things like this."
"Things like this?!" She shrieks, throwing her balled fists in the air and taking a threatening step closer to me. She jabs a finger at my chest, and it's like staring at a fucking mirror when her eyes blaze with fury. "You are about have hundreds of thousands of lives in your hands!"
I glance at the hallway. "Quiet down." I seethe, my hands balling into fists as well.
I just don't want her to get stressed out and this is not working in my favor.
"Don't tell me to quiet down." She hisses, although thankfully drops her voice down from that ear-piercing hyena howl. She turns serious. "Enough people have suffered under Achille, be there for them now."
I release a breath, contemplating. "Fine, I will today. But I am having breakfast with her and that's final." I turn back to the food. "Now leave."
She grumbles something to herself but nevertheless stalks off, slamming the door loudly behind her. I glare at the locked door, in hopes that it will burn a hole through the bulletproof metal and straight into her head.
I scrape the eggs onto a plate before beginning to make my way down the hallway, strolling through the kitchen and into the living room, just to spot a loose curl momentarily swaying to the side and peeking from behind a wall.
I make my way there with a smirk, padding as quietly as I can on the carpet, watching the loose navy blue shirt rustling with her movements, hair swaying across her back as she faces away from me, hands on her hips and I have no doubt that she's nervously gnawing at her bottom lip.
In a flash, I grab her hips and spin her around, pulling her in and instantly slamming my lips onto hers.
She gasps at the contact, giving me further entry as my hands dive into the strands of her hair. Eventually, I pull away reluctantly, leaving the touch chaste, but I know she has something to say.
She catches the meaning behind the action practically right away. Her eyes flicker, then simmer down, her hands absent-mindedly running down my bare sides.
"I listened to your conversation." She admits sheepishly, obviously monitoring my reaction by the slight squint in her eyes.
I grin, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Naughty little sneak." I scold, yanking her closer and relishing in the surprised yelp noise that escapes her.
She giggles, hands flying to either of my biceps to balance herself. Her face suddenly turns somber, worried. "I don't want to hold you back." She whispers, eyes timid for the first time since I've fucking met her.
My hands subconsciously grow tighter on her. "You're not." I retort with conviction, although I know the simple few words won't be enough to convince her. I release a sigh. "When I lost you, I barely did anything except on a plan to get you back, I didn't work for my mafia, I worked for you. It's you, and then work. You are my priority above everyone and everything else." I can see the retort already forming on the tip of her tongue, but I interrupt her before it can even slip out. "It's not you holding me back, it's you making me stronger and better."
She drops her hands from around me to nervously brush her fingers through her hair, but my arms stay firmly winded around her. "We can't even be seen together, Luca." She huffs, dropping her hands back down and picking at her nail beds.
Such a fiddler.
I take her chin between my index and thumb, pulling her face mere millimeters from mine. "The reason I've hidden you from the paparazzi is for your safety, although clearly, considering your recent increase in kill count, you are perfectly capable of defending yourself. I get worried about you. I never want to hide you."
She releases a relieved breath. "Yeah?"
"Yes." I reply confidently, happy when her hands return to hang low on my hips. "You ever, ever have doubts about how much you mean to me, you come straight to me and we figure it out. But it's always you and me. End of discussion." I lean in for a kiss, she dodges it.
She grins, spinning out of my grip and back into the kitchen. "Mkay. Time for brekkie!"
My jaw drops. "Ivy," I grunt, following after her.
She cackles to herself, speed-walking to the food and dodging each of my yanks. Finally, I grab a fistful of her shorts, slamming her back against the marble island.
She gives me one of those smiles, nose scrunching and all.
"ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."