Burning inferno

LUCA'S POV.

My jaw ticked, my eyes not wavering off her as she made her way down the stairs, walking elegantly in the blue, silky, lace, slitted gown I got for her… It had an opening at the back; the fabric had clung perfectly to her curves complimenting every part of her body.

Her hair, ran carelessly over her shoulder in a hat, made her more sexy and defiant she looked dangerous; I loved it.

She knew how to cause a scene, too bad she'll be making it with me.

“Enjoying the view?” She asked, the frown on her face growing deeper as she approached me. Finally standing on the last flight of stairs, I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her comment. 

“Merely staring at you, makes me want  to puke all I had for lunch.” I snapped, turning my gaze away from turning on my feet without waiting for a moment of her response.

“Don't act funny, or make baseless remarks, or try making an escape; you'd embarrass yourself, Isabella. Besides, I'm certain you won't want Mattoes's head on a plate,” I asserted, setting myself right into the seat.

I had seen her gaze flicker hearing Matteo's name slip off my lips; she hated it; she hated me. Good enough; I wanted more than petry, basic, simple hate. 

 I wanted to invade her head and mind for every second of her breathing until there was no room for anything else.

“I won't; some of us need to take responsibility for our actions, and not everyone  is eager to have a knife to someone's head or make death threats for fun,” she responded, slamming the door shut to her end of the seat.

The driver ignited the engine of the car, starting the car, earning a grin from me. I stared at her long enough that she had taken notice.

“Falling for me?” She asked, smiling even when it had not reached her eyes; I wouldn't doubt she probably had broken shards of glass in her bra or tights to stab me with at this moment. 

“If anything, Isabella, you're the one swooning after me. Besides, you think I'd make threats about killing? I do it daily, Isabella… Speaking of which, we travel in a week.”

I enjoyed the twisted look on her face, the stone  cold expression on her face, and I revelled in her misery.

“Why?”  she asked, but I gave no response. She parted her lips to ask some other question but was quick to decide against it, holding the last bit of self-esteem she had.

My eyes trailed over her once again. I had come,  knowing  I hated Romano even when it was his wedding party; I hated his guts; the bastard had once tried to take my clients. He must think some wine and a party could repay his lies and betrayal.

But it was mafia code I needed to be there,my presence was duly noted and respected, which was the only reason I obliged. Also, maybe somewhere within me I did it for Isabella.

I'd enjoyed watching her cause a scene at home, but I was aching to set her free, take her out to open grounds, and let her leash loose; it was riding me over the edge to see what tricks she had all rolled beneath her sleeves.

We both highlighted from the car; as the drive ended,  she held out her hands over to me. 

I grinned widely seeing she was trying so hard to act almost like she wouldn't drive a bullet through my skull the first chance she got… “I see I finally got through to you,” I teased with a knowing smile, but I had not set off her mood.

She stood smiling even wider.

“Are we doing this or not? Aren't you dying to show everyone your latest accessory? A symbol of your strength? A constant reminder of how you ruined the morettis?” She asked, but I snorted with a groan.

“Keep running your mouth, and I'll make you worse than an accessory,” I murmured, reaching my elbows around her hands, which slid through it.

I shoved her even closer to me, seeing every pair of eyes now pinned against us.

They’re staring because they’re wondering how someone like you ended up with someone like me.”I mocked in a sarcastic tone.

“And I’m wondering why I didn’t bring another knife,” she murmured between muffled voices that were laced with rage.

I pushed him further, shoving my nails into her side. Nudging her closer to smile even wider, which she had done.

We boarded the room, greeting each one, everyone paying their respects to the don; of course, Isabella played her part perfectly, so much that I almost believed we were actually in love.

She held a charisma to her, one that pulled everyone in, even when they knew the marriage had been no better than an alliance they believed her fabricated stories of our love, of course in her unrealistic story I chased after her to the ends of the earth. She had such wild wishes, the only  reason I'd do that would be to own her! Control her, not that fickle abstract emotion called… love, 

She hooked everyone with each word that rolled off her lips, and I… Well, I admired  her.

This woman was perfect. I'd enjoy bringing her down to the ruins; that was it, a masterpiece I was trying so hard to create, a work of art … one I'd enjoy when painting out her dread, misery, and regret.

She was mine, 

Mine to hurt, mine to control, mine to destroy

No one else, she was mine, and I wouldn't stop breaking her apart until I was the bane of her misery, guilt, and despair-filled existence.

“Luca!“ a feminine voice I had known for too long called out to me from the corner of the room, drawing my attention; I glanced sideways to see her. 

For the first  time in years, my heart skipped a beat as she approached me, a wide smile on her face—the same smile that had caused me to fall hopelessly in love with the yet resilient manner in which she walked and carried herself with elegance.

This woman…my nightmare, my dream, my hope,

“Alessia?” I called out, my voice shaky, betraying my cold and icy front... But how could I forget that she was the one who had my heart?