Chapter 29: THE RAIN CONFESSION
The storm broke just after dusk, sudden and violent, as though the sky itself had decided it could no longer contain the weight of silence that had settled over the DeLuca mansion. Sheets of rain hammered against the windows, wind howling through the gardens, thunder rattling the foundations.
Aria sat at the edge of the balcony, knees pulled up to her chest, watching the water blur the lights of the city below. She hadn’t spoken to Luca since he dragged her back the night before. He had barely looked at her. Instead, he carried himself with that same icy control, as though she were nothing but another business transaction that had gone sour.
But she knew better. She had seen the break in his eyes, the crack in the armor.
She also knew she couldn’t keep living like this—half prisoner, half wife, her heart a battlefield between hate and desire. Something had to give.
The door creaked open behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know it was him. His presence filled the room long before his voice cut through the storm.
"You’ll catch your death sitting out here."
She didn’t move. "Maybe that’s the point."
His jaw tightened. She could feel the tension radiating from him, even as he stepped into the rain-soaked balcony, letting the storm plaster his dark hair to his forehead and soak his suit. "Don’t say things like that."
"Why not?" she snapped, standing now, facing him fully. The rain drenched her instantly, clinging to her hair and clothes, but she didn’t care. "You don’t care what happens to me. You only care that I stay where you can see me, like some possession."
His eyes flashed, steel-gray burning under the storm. "Is that what you think?"
"That’s what I know." Her voice trembled, but she pushed on, the rain mixing with tears she refused to wipe away. "You lied to me. You trapped me in this marriage. You control every breath I take. And then you dare to say you love me? That’s not love, Luca. That’s obsession."
He took a step closer, rain running down the sharp planes of his face. "Obsession?" His voice was low, almost swallowed by the thunder. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I chose to feel this way about you?"
"Then why?" she demanded, chest heaving. "Why keep me here? Why not let me go if it hurts you so much?"
His breath came sharp, ragged, as if her words cut straight through him. He stood there for a moment, silent, the storm raging around them, before finally speaking, his voice hoarse.
"Because letting you go would kill me."
Her heart lurched painfully in her chest. She shook her head, backing away, though he followed. "No. Don’t say that. You don’t mean it."
"I do," he growled, stepping closer still until the rain blurred the space between them. "You think I don’t fight this every single day? I’ve built my entire life on control. On never needing anyone. But then you came into it—storming in with your fire, your stubbornness, your damned refusal to bend—and suddenly nothing makes sense anymore. You’ve undone me, Aria."
Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing against her ribs until she could hardly breathe. She wanted to deny it, to call him a liar again, but the rawness in his voice made it impossible.
"You can’t just say things like that," she whispered, tears burning through the rain. "Not after everything."
He reached for her, his hands cupping her face with a gentleness that contradicted the storm between them. His thumbs brushed against her wet skin, tracing raindrops like they were fragile truths. "I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve lied. I’ve done things I can’t take back. But if you think for one second that I don’t care about you, that I don’t—" His voice broke. He swallowed hard. "That I don’t love you—you’re wrong."
The words tore through her like lightning, bright and terrifying.
She shook her head, gripping his wrists as though to push him away, but her strength failed her. "Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It isn’t supposed to suffocate."
"Then tell me what it’s supposed to feel like," he demanded, desperate. "Because all I know is that when you’re near, I can breathe, and when you’re not, I can’t. All I know is that the thought of losing you makes me more afraid than any bullet, any betrayal, any damn enemy out there. Tell me that’s not love, Aria. Look me in the eye and tell me."
Her lips trembled, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She wanted to say it. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t love, that he was wrong, that nothing he could do would change the chains he had wrapped around her.
But when she looked into his eyes—stormy, broken, unguarded—she couldn’t.
Because somewhere, deep down, she felt it too.
The silence stretched between them, thunder rolling like a drumbeat. And then, before she could think, before fear could stop her, she surged forward and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was violent in its intensity, desperate, a clash of anger and longing that had been building since the moment they met. His hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, as though he could fuse them together through sheer force of will. She gripped his soaked shirt, holding on as if the storm would carry her away if she didn’t.
The world dissolved. There was only the taste of rain on his lips, the heat of his body despite the cold, the way his mouth moved against hers like he had been starving for this.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, their foreheads pressed together, rain dripping from their lashes, silence hung heavy.
Aria’s voice shook as she whispered, "I hate you for making me feel this way."
His chest rose and fell sharply, his breath warm against her lips. "And I hate myself for not being able to stop."
Tears mixed with rain as she whispered, "Then what do we do?"
His hand slid to the back of her neck, his thumb brushing her skin. His eyes burned into hers, fierce and unyielding. "We stop pretending. That’s all we can do."
She closed her eyes, her heart splintering and mending all at once, knowing that nothing about this—about them—could ever be simple.
But as his lips found hers again, softer this time, tender in a way that felt almost like surrender, she understood the truth she had been running from.
She could deny him. She could hate him. She could fight him with every breath.
But she could never escape him.
Not now. Not ever.
And for the first time, that terrified her less than it should have.