Chapter 2 - The Penthouse Trap
The doors slid open to reveal a private foyer lined in dark marble. Beyond it lay a sprawling, multi-million-dollar suite encased in floor-to-ceiling glass. The city of Chicago glittered below us, blurred by the relentless rain streaking against the windows. The room smelled of cedarwood, expensive scotch, and the ozone scent of a coming storm.
Luca stepped out first. He didn't look back to see if I was following. He knew I would.
I stepped onto the thick, plush rug, my heels sinking into the fabric. The sheer luxury of the space was suffocating. I had booked suites for him before, typed out the itineraries, arranged the private catering, but being inside his world was entirely different from managing it on a spreadsheet.
He walked over to a heavy oak bar cart near the window, picked up a crystal decanter, and poured two fingers of amber liquid into a glass. He didn't offer me one. He just stood there, his back to me, the city lights reflecting off the broad expanse of his shoulders.
"The best man," Luca said suddenly, the words slicing through the quiet of the room. He took a slow sip of his drink. "Rachel’s brother, correct? Thomas. Thirty-two. Works in corporate finance. Drives a leased BMW. Spends his weekends at driving ranges and thinks he's charming because he knows how to order wine in French."
I froze. My clutch slipped slightly in my damp palm.
"How do you know that?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "I never mentioned Rachel's brother to you."
Luca turned around. He leaned against the edge of the bar cart, swirling the scotch in his glass. The ice clinked gently.
"I know everything, Mera. I know that Thomas has been asking Rachel to set you two up for six months. I know he bought a new suit for tonight specifically because he knew you were wearing red. And I know that if I hadn't stepped into that lobby, you would have let him buy you a drink, you would have let him dance with you, and you would have let him touch you."
The sheer, arrogant certainty in his voice ignited a spark of genuine anger in my chest. I dropped my clutch onto a nearby leather sofa and took a step toward him.
"And if I did?" I demanded, the adrenaline finally overriding my professional instincts. "I am twenty-six years old, Luca! I am single. I am allowed to dance with a man at a wedding. I am allowed to have a life that doesn't revolve around answering your phone calls and making sure your dry cleaning is delivered on time!"
Luca’s eyes darkened, turning from cold stone to something molten and dangerous. He set the glass down on the cart with a sharp clack.
"You are allowed to have a life," Luca agreed, his voice dangerously soft. He pushed off the cart and began to close the distance between us. His steps were slow, measured, like a predator circling a very small, very foolish bird. "But you are not allowed to have him."
"You don't own me!" I shot back, though I was already taking a step backward, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Don't I?" Luca asked.
He backed me up until my shoulders hit the cold glass of the window. The rain beat against the pane right behind my head. Luca stepped in close, planting one hand flat against the glass beside my face, boxing me in. His heat radiated against me, enveloping me in the scent of coffee, wool, and pure, concentrated power.
"You think David from Legal transferred to Seattle because he wanted better weather?" Luca murmured, leaning down so his lips were mere inches from my ear. "You think Marcus from Accounting suddenly stopped talking to you because he lost interest?"
May you like
I gasped, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "You transferred David? Because he brought me coffee?"
"I own the company, Mera," Luca whispered, his breath ghosting over my neck. "I own the building. And for the last eighteen months, I have owned the space around you. I just preferred to keep the cage invisible."
