Chapter 52: NIGHT OF NO MASKS
The storm that had been raging inside me for weeks had finally begun to quiet.
The nightmares still hovered at the edges of my sleep, and the bruises on my wrists were still faintly visible, but something had shifted. I wasn’t trembling anymore when someone opened the door. I wasn’t waking up gasping for air.
And Luca... he hadn’t left my side once.
Tonight, though, everything felt different. The air was heavier, charged with a tension that wasn’t just about what we’d survived, it was about what waited for us beyond survival.
I stood by the mirror in his room, brushing out my hair, trying not to think too much about the fact that he was behind me, leaning against the doorframe, watching me like I was the only thing worth seeing.
"You’re quiet," he said.
"So are you," I murmured, meeting his reflection instead of his eyes. "Unusual for the great Luciano DeLuca."
He smirked faintly. "Maybe I’m thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"Only when I’m thinking about business." He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room until he was behind me. "Right now, I’m thinking about you."
My breath caught, and our eyes met in the mirror. "What about me?"
"About how I almost lost you. About how every second without you felt like a lifetime I didn’t want." His hand brushed a strand of hair from my shoulder. "And about how much I want you now."
The confession sent a shiver racing down my spine. "Luca..."
"You can tell me to stop," he whispered, fingers still hovering just above my skin. "At any point. Say the word, and I’ll back away."
I swallowed hard. "What if I don’t want you to?"
"Then I need to hear you say it."
I turned slowly, facing him fully, heart hammering. He was so close, close enough that I could see the tiny scar at the corner of his mouth, the one I’d always wondered about. Close enough that his scent, smoke, leather, and something darker, wrapped around me like a promise.
"I want this," I said, voice steady despite the chaos inside me. "I want you."
Something in his expression broke, the mask he always wore, the armor that made him untouchable. It slipped, and for a moment, he was just a man standing in front of the woman who could ruin him.
"Say it again," he murmured.
"I want you."
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t tentative this time. It wasn’t hesitant or careful. It was hungry, desperate, like we’d both been starving and only just realized it. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and my fingers curled into his shirt like I was afraid he’d disappear if I let go.
The room blurred. The world outside vanished. There was only the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands, the way he breathed my name like it was a prayer.
"Aria," he groaned against my lips. "Tell me this is real."
"It’s real," I whispered back. "It’s real."
We stumbled toward the bed, laughing breathlessly when we almost tripped over his discarded jacket. For a man who ruled empires, Luciano DeLuca was surprisingly clumsy when his heart was involved. And that, that made me fall even harder.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me between his legs, his hands resting lightly on my hips. "Look at you," he said softly. "You don’t even know what you do to me."
"Show me," I teased, breathless.
"Careful," he warned, though his smile was wicked. "I might never stop."
"Maybe I don’t want you to."
His eyes darkened at that, and he tugged me closer until I was straddling his lap. The kiss that followed was slower this time, deeper, like we had all the time in the world. His hands traced patterns up my back, over my ribs, memorizing every inch.
And for the first time, I wasn’t thinking about the past, not the debt, not the betrayal, not the blood on his hands or the ghosts on mine. I was thinking about it now. About this heartbeat. About this man.
"Tell me something true," I whispered against his mouth.
He paused, brushing his nose against mine. "Something true?"
"Yes."
He inhaled, as if searching for the right words. "I’ve built my entire life on power. On fear. And none of it, not the empire, not the wealth, not the respect, has ever terrified me as much as you do."
"Me?" I breathed. "Why?"
"Because you make me want things I swore I’d never want. Peace. A future. Love."
My chest tightened. "Is that what this is?"
He nodded once, with no hesitation. "It’s not supposed to be. But it is."
I kissed him again, and this time it was different, slower, softer, and filled with the weight of everything we hadn’t said. We moved together like we’d been doing this forever, like our bodies had been waiting for this moment all along.
Clothes fell away, not rushed but reverent, each layer revealing more than skin, revealing trust, surrender, and willingness to be seen. Every scar he showed me, I traced with my fingertips. Every tremor he drew from me, he kissed away.
"Are you sure?" he asked one last time, his forehead pressed against mine.
"Yes," I whispered, and I meant it with every part of me. "I’m sure."
And when we finally came together, it wasn’t just physical. It was a collision of everything we’d survived and everything we were still too afraid to hope for. It was fire and gentleness, chaos and stillness, breaking and healing all at once.
I had expected it to feel dangerous, because everything about Luca was dangerous. But instead, it felt inevitable. Like the first breath after nearly drowning.
Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, my head resting on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a rhythm I knew I’d never forget.
"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
I lifted my head to look at him. "Do you?"
He shook his head. "I think this is the first thing in my life I don’t regret."
I smiled, tracing lazy circles on his skin. "Then no. I don’t regret it either."
We were quiet for a long time. The world outside the window was still dark, but the horizon had started to soften with hints of dawn.
"Do you ever wonder," I asked softly, "if we would’ve found each other without all the chaos?"
His fingers brushed through my hair. "I think chaos is the only reason we did."
"Maybe." I paused. "But I think I would’ve found you anyway."
He laughed quietly. "Aria Valencia, the woman who barged into my life and ruined every plan I ever made."
"And you love me for it," I teased.
His smile softened. "God help me, I do."
The words hung between us, heavy and terrifying and beautiful. Love. Neither of us had said it before. Neither of us had dared. And yet, here it was, out in the open, as undeniable as the sunrise creeping over the city.
"Say it again," I whispered.
"I love you," he said, with no hesitation. "I love you, Aria. More than I ever thought I could."
I closed my eyes, letting the words settle into me like a balm. "I love you too."
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full — of promises we hadn’t spoken yet, of futures we hadn’t dared imagine, of the knowledge that whatever storms still waited for us, we’d face them together.
For the first time since this began, I didn’t feel like a pawn or a prisoner. I didn’t feel like a girl trapped in a world she didn’t belong to.
I felt like a woman standing beside the man she chose.
And when I finally drifted into sleep, Luca’s arms still wrapped around me, I knew with bone-deep certainty that this, this night, this love, this fragile, impossible beginning, was worth every scar.