Luca's Pov:

I can’t believe I finally said it. All I needed was confirmation that she felt the same way about me, and now I have it. I love her. I’ve loved her since the first moment I saw her, sunbathing in that bikini by the pool at my father’s house. The way the sunlight caught her blonde hair, the way she barely glanced at me before going back to her book like I wasn’t even worth her attention. That arrogance should’ve pissed me off. Instead, it hooked me.

Weeks later, after I’d settled in, she started flirting—little teases here and there, wearing those short outfits that drove her mother crazy. Then, just a week after her eighteenth birthday, our parents left for a trip and put her in my care. As if she wasn’t already dangerous enough without supervision. She played her little games, testing how far she could push me before I snapped. I tried to resist at first, but the moment I gave in, I knew there was no going back. The way she felt under me, around me—nothing had ever been that good.

She’s beautiful, every inch of her, but it’s more than that. It’s the way her smart mouth runs even when she’s breathless, the way she surprises me with the things she knows. She should’ve gotten into Juilliard—her fingers fly over piano keys like she was born to do it. I’ve had her against that piano more than once, in more ways than I can count, and I still don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

But it’s not just sex. It’s the way she makes me feel—safe, happy, like I can actually breathe for once. Things I’ve never felt with Wren. Never even come close to feeling with Wren. And that’s why I have to end it. It’s only fair.

Wren’s been floating around in some delusional wedding bliss, ignoring every sign I’ve dropped. The room reeked of sex earlier, and she still didn’t put it together. She took one look at Viv and assumed some random hookup, even though I was standing there half-dressed. How does someone miss something that obvious?

I was going to do it. The thought solidified in my head as I walked Viv to her room. This wedding isn’t happening. I’m done pretending.

“So… goodnight, I guess,” she says, smiling up at me like she wasn’t just grinding against me in the hallway. Like she isn’t the reason I can’t think straight.

“The penthouse is empty,” I tell her, voice rough.

I’m trying to control myself, but it’s useless. I’ve been gone almost a week, shopping for a wedding I don’t even want, and last night in the car was the first time I’d had her in days. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough until I don’t have to hide this.

“Where’s everyone?” she asks, playing innocent.

“Probably at the party. It doesn’t end until midnight.”

One hour. That’s all I need.

“You wanted to take this off me, right?” She smirks, reading me too easily. “I’d like to see you try.”

I shut her up with a kiss, slamming the door behind me and locking it before lifting her. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, and her lips are just as soft as I remember. Gosh, she tastes good. Better than anything else.

I’ve tried sleeping with other women since her. It never works. The one time with Wren weeks ago still makes my skin crawl—I only did it to keep up appearances, to make it seem like I wasn’t avoiding her. But I can’t even pretend anymore.

I toss Viv onto the bed, tearing her panties off as she laughs against my mouth.

“That’s another pair this week,” she teases.

"Sorry," I whisper, nipping at her lower lip playfully before pulling away just enough to part her legs. She doesn't waste time, her hands already working frantically at my clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and fabric in her hurry. I help her, shrugging off my shirt, kicking my shoes aside—neither of us cares where they land.

Then she pulls back, standing up with that smirk I know too well. Slowly, deliberately, she gets on all fours, her blonde waves falling forward to curtain her face. The way she looks at me from under those lashes, the teasing tilt of her lips—it’s enough to make my breath catch. She knows exactly what she’s doing

I can’t lose this. Can’t imagine being tied to someone else when she’s right here.

I move behind her, fingers tangling in her hair as I pull just enough to make her arch. "Did I ask you to do this, Kitten?" My grip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind her who’s in control.

"No, Daddy," she gasps, the words breaking into a squeal as I tease her, slow and deliberate. Her hands fist in the sheets, knuckles whitening, and goodness, the way she gives in to me—it does something to my head. I’ve never been into power games before her, but the way she submits, the way she wants it and knows what she wants, the way she falls apart under my hands—none of it compares to anything else. Not even Wren, who’d let me do whatever I wanted without half the fire behind it.

I lean in, lips brushing her ear. "I won’t take the dress off." My hands slide down, gripping her hips, pulling her back against me. "I’m going to fuck you just like this."

She nods, breathless, fingers twisting tighter in the sheets as I push into her. The heat of her, the way she takes me in—it steals my breath every time. I move slow at first, savoring it, then faster, harder, until her gasps turn into my name, half-moaned, half-pleaded.

I love her voice—always soft, even now, even when she’s falling apart. Usually, she bites her lip, stifles the sounds, but not tonight. And not after tomorrow, when this wedding is dead and buried. Then she can scream all she wants.

I don’t stop, even when the distant hum of car engines cuts through the haze. They’re back. Fuck. But then her body tightens around me, a shudder running through her as she comes undone, and I follow right after, burying my face in her shoulder to muffle my own groan.

I pull out, dressing quickly as she watches me from the bed. I kiss her once more before leaving. “I’m ending this. No more hiding.”

“I love you,” she says, soft but sure.

I love hearing it. Love knowing she means it. “I love you too.”

Downstairs, my stepmother is talking to Wren in the living room. I don’t stop, heading straight to my room. Wren follows.

I leave the door open, knowing she’ll trail behind. “Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. We need to talk.” I turn to face her. She’s beautiful—objectively, anyone would say so. But I don’t want her. Never really did.

“Look, I’m sorry about the thing with Viv,” she starts. “I didn’t know they had smoke around her, and—”

“I don’t want to get married.”

She freezes. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t want this. And I know you don’t either. Our fathers are using us. We don’t have to let them.”

Her face flushes, eyes turning glassy. “Is it because of her?”

“Who?”

“Vivienne.”

I scoff. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Everyone sees how you are with her. The tension—”

“Tension?” I cut her off. “Did Jane put that in your head?”

Wren hesitates. “Yes, but—”

“So you think I’m fucking my stepsister? Perfect. This is exactly why we don’t work.” I’m twisting it, making it about her distrust instead of the truth. It’s shitty, but I don’t care. She doesn’t need to know.

“It’s not like that,” she says quickly. “I trust you, Luca. We can make this work.”

“No. I’ve made up my mind.”

“The wedding is tomorrow,” she snaps, voice shaking. “You just gave me a car at my bridal shower!”

“Because my dad told me to. It wasn’t for you.”

She stumbles back, gripping the vanity table like she might collapse. “Our baby can’t grow up without a father, Luca. How am I supposed to do this alone?”

I was about to tell her I’d handle the guests, but then her words register.

“Wait. Did you say baby?”

She looks up, tears spilling over. “Yes, Luca. I’m pregnant.”