The air in the grand Morano estate was heavy, taut like a violin string stretched too far.
It was forbidden... deadly forbidden for anyone other than blood to call him by his full name in the midst of an argument.
Yet tonight, his control balanced on the edge of a knife.
"Luca Morano…" Alessia whispered again, her voice trembling but laced with a defiance only love could forge.
His eyes, cold as forged steel, found hers.
He didn't blink, he didn't soften, he didn't move.
The only sign of life was the slow flare of his chest rising and falling, the rhythm of a man holding his rage inside.
Alessia's hand fluttered to her cheek as though shielding herself from the intensity of that gaze. Her heart thundered, Her lips parted, fragile and brave all at once.
"You really want me to let go?" His voice was a whisper of storm, hushed thunder before lightning strikes.
