Quiet Before the Call

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting pale streaks across the room. Bella’s eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Luca.

He lay on his side, one arm bent beneath his head, the other resting loosely around her waist. He wasn’t smiling, not quite, but his expression was open in a way she rarely saw. Watchful. Quiet. Present. His dark eyes followed the smallest movement of her lashes.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice still rough with sleep.

“Am I?” His mouth curved slightly. “I thought I was keeping a respectable distance.”

“You’re terrible at that.”

“Only with you.”

Her heart skipped. Without thinking, she shifted closer, pressing herself against him. The solid warmth of his chest beneath her cheek, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the familiar weight of his arm around her, all of it grounded her in a way nothing else could.

“You didn’t sleep,” she said.

“I slept,” he replied. “Just not much.” After a beat, more honestly, “I stayed awake longer than I should have. Watching you.”

She smiled, eyes closing again as his thumb traced a slow, absent line along her arm. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It wasn’t.” He admitted. “Seeing you here makes things… quieter.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The world beyond the walls of the suite felt distant, muted. No expectations. No threats. Just the soft morning and the warmth between them.

“You’re really going to make this a habit, aren’t you?” she murmured. “Waking up like this.”

His lips curved faintly. “Depends,” he said. “Will you keep letting me?”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. “I might,” she said lightly. “But don’t expect it to be easy.”

“I’d be disappointed if it were.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a slow, unhurried kiss. It wasn’t hungry. It didn’t need to be. It lingered, warm and deliberate, until their foreheads rested together.

“This,” Bella whispered after a moment, “is nice. No plans. No danger. Just us.”

Luca’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. “I could get used to this,” he said quietly. “Just you and me. Even if only for a while.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “Just for now,” she agreed.

Eventually, the reality outside the villa began to press in. Luca shifted slightly, eyes darkening with thought. “We should move soon,” he murmured reluctantly. “Plans, responsibilities… our families won’t wait forever.”

Bella sighed, lips curling into a playful smile despite the tension. “Always the responsible one,” she teased. “Fine, let’s go face the chaos together… but I’m not ready to leave this bed just yet.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Then we’ll take a few more minutes. Just enough to remind ourselves why we’re fighting for it.”

“Luca…” she said, raising an eyebrow. “The staff… they’re going to know. I mean… my dress is downstairs…”

He stood and crossed to the wardrobe without comment, pulling on fresh clothes with practiced ease.

When he turned back, he tossed her a dark shirt. “For now.”

She caught it automatically. “This is yours.”

“Yes.”

“I’m stealing it.”

“Obviously.”

She slipped it on, the fabric warm and faintly scented like him, sleeves too long, hem brushing her thighs. Luca watched for half a second too long before turning away.

“Come with me,” he said, reaching for her hand. “You need some proper clothes.”

He led her out of the bedroom and down a short corridor to a smaller, well-appointed dressing room. Racks of women’s clothing lined the walls, organized with quiet precision.

Bella’s gaze flicking instinctively to the neatly arranged racks of women’s clothing. She stopped and looked at him sideways.

“Okay,” she said carefully, “should I be worried about why there’s a room full of women’s clothes here?”

Luca didn’t miss a beat. “I know what you’re thinking.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you?”

“Yes.” His expression remained calm, almost amused. “And before you go too far down that path, no. I don’t collect women.”

“That wasn’t reassuring.”

He sighed softly. “Bella. I don’t live here alone. Other members of the family stay here. Guests. Security considerations.”

A small smile curved his lips. “I like that you’re a little jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You are.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Instead, she accepted the dress he handed her, deep red, elegant and dangerous all at once.

“Put this on,” he said. “It suits you.”

Her lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile.

He paused, his gaze lingering on her as she took the dress, brushing the fabric lightly between her fingers.

Bella slipped into the dress Luca had chosen, the fabric hugging her in all the right places. She straightened slightly, smoothing the material, and caught Luca’s gaze lingering on her. He didn’t try to hide it—dark eyes scanning her, appreciative, calculating, and just a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

Bella turned her back to Luca, holding the dress in place while she fumbled with the zipper. “Help me,” she murmured, her voice soft but commanding.

Luca stepped close, hands deftly finding the zipper at the back, his fingers brushing against her skin just enough to make her shiver.

He leaned in closer, his face near her neck. The warmth of his breath and the proximity made her hair stand on end. His arms wrapped gently around her waist, holding her steady as he kissed the delicate curve of her neck.

Bella closed her eyes, a shiver running through her. Her heartbeat sped up, the adrenaline mixing with the lingering tension between them. For a moment, the world outside the villa ceased to exist—there was only the soft press of Luca’s lips, the feel of his hands, and the undeniable pull that neither could resist.

She opened her eyes slightly, glancing at him with a mixture of exasperation and longing. “Luca… if we keep this up, I don’t think we’ll leave this room anytime soon.”

He smirked against her neck, voice low and teasing. “Then maybe we shouldn’t,” he murmured, the promise in his tone both thrilling and dangerous.

The room felt charged, every glance, every touch, every breath between them leaving them on edge—caught between desire, danger, and the quiet knowledge that whatever came next would not be ordinary.

The moment stretched, charged and intimate, until a vibration broke it.

His phone.

Bella stiffened. “Who is it?”

Luca glanced at the screen. “Marco.”

She groaned softly. “Of course it is.”

On the other end, Marco’s voice came through, teasing but firm. “Luca… I assume you and Bella aren’t planning on showing yourselves anytime soon?”

Luca’s lips curved into a slow, dark smile as he glanced at Bella, who was still watching him with wide eyes. “And why would we do that?” he asked, his tone laced with mischief.

“You know why,” Marco said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Don’t make me come there myself. You both know what’s at stake.”

“We’ll be there,” Luca said, then ended the call.

Bella turned to face him. “Meeting?”

“Yes.” He studied her for a moment.

He drew her in by the waist, his hand resting there as if it belonged.

“And this calm… it won’t last.”

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “Silvio.”

“Yes,” Luca said. “Sooner or later, he’ll find out about the alliance. About us. And when he does, he won’t sit back and observe. He’ll push harder. Dirtier.”

Bella’s fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of his shirt. “And Alessia. Alessandro. You think, they already know?”

Luca’s jaw set. “They won’t take it quietly. Engagements don’t just disappear without consequences. Pride like theirs doesn’t forgive being replaced.”

Bella stepped closer, placing her hands flat against his chest. “Then we don’t waste time pretending they will.”

A sharp, unmistakably Santoro smile crossed his face. “Exactly.”

He rested his forehead against hers. Not a kiss. Something steadier. More dangerous.

“Because once Silvio moves,” he murmured, “and once they realize what they’ve lost… they won’t just come asking questions.”

Bella met his gaze, steady. “Then let them come.”

Luca’s mouth curved, sharp and unmistakably Santoro. “They will.”

Somewhere beyond the walls of the room, the day was fully awake. And whatever fragile peace they had carved out for themselves was already counting down.