Mariya
The moment I walk into the foyer, Luca's voice is low and deadly, "Where the fuck have you been?"
I come to a sudden stop, my eyebrows darting up. "I went to the store." I hold up the bag of snacks and Ibuprofen I got.
He's leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands casually shoved into his pockets, his legs crossed at the ankles. The pose might be casual, but I can feel the waves of anger
coming off him from a mile away.
Slowly, he pushes away from the counter, his dark gaze locking on me.
A shiver shoots down my spine as I walk through the
foyer. "Where's your phone?" he demands, his tone unnervingly calm.
I point to the stairs. "Upstairs."
"Christ, you're hell-bent on driving me insane," he mutters.
"I tried to call you, but you didn't answer," I say in my defense.
"Then you send me a fucking text," he shouts. "I'm out there waging a fucking war! The last thing I need right now is worrying about you."