Chapter 7 – Marked as His
Rose's POV
I laid stiff, too stiff to move. My skin was humming with electricity, nerves alive under Luca's burning gaze. His eyes devoured every inch of me, scanning like I was a map to his hidden desire. His lips brushed over my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. When he gently pressed his mouth against my breasts, I closed my eyes and bit my lip hard, confused by the pleasure flooding through me.
I didn't want this.
But I craved it.
I wanted to fight it, but something inside me begged for more. The man touching me—no, owning me in this moment—was fire and steel, rough and smooth, danger wrapped in irresistible heat. Still, I could feel myself silently pleading to be spared.
And just then… he changed.
He grabbed me.
Hard.
I let out a grunt as pain shot through my side. My breath hitched, eyes flying open. For a second, I saw it—the flicker in his eyes. Concern. Guilt. Worry?
Then he pushed himself away from me like I burned him.
He stood, chest rising and falling, hands fisting into his hair as if he couldn't make sense of what he was feeling. My breath froze in my throat.
"Put on your clothes… and leave. Or I might hurt you," he muttered, grabbing a bundle of dollar bills and throwing them at me like trash.
I stared.
Shocked.
Confused.
Ashamed.
"W–what?"
His eyes, now wild with frustration, snapped toward me. "Get out!"
My fingers fumbled with the hook of my clothes. I quickly covered myself, too numb to cry, too proud to beg. I hesitated—only for a second—then I picked the money from the floor and left without looking back.
I didn't want his money.
But my mom needed it.
And I hated myself for it.
---
By the time I reached LMD Suites, my skin was still hot with humiliation and confusion. Sweat clung to me despite the cool breeze. The tall glass building stood before me like nothing had happened. I walked in and asked the first staff I could find:
"I need to see Moga."
His smile faded. "Sorry, I don't know who you're talking about."
Lies.
I asked another. Same answer.
And another. And another.
By the fifth denial, I was ready to scream. "You people don't know Moga? She brought me here! She—"
Just then, the man's phone rang. He answered, paused, then looked at me.
"Let her in. Moga is waiting."
That fast? My skin crawled.
"Come with me," he said.
I followed him silently. What kind of place is this? In daylight, this was just a luxury hotel. But when the sun set… it became a nest of secrets, a lair of lust. The walls had seen too much. And I was beginning to understand just how deep the rabbit hole went.
We approached a particular door, and my stomach dropped. Loud moans. Wet slapping sounds. I didn't want to imagine. I tried to look away, to shut it out.
Too late.
The door opened.
There she was.
Moga.
Lying back on silken sheets, legs wide apart, and a man with his head buried between her thighs like he was feasting on heaven itself. Her moans were louder now.
My legs locked in place.
"Oh, shit! Dave! What happened to knocking?" Moga shouted as she kicked off the man and grabbed a bedsheet.
Dave, the waiter, mumbled something and quickly left, leaving me standing there like a statue, heart slamming in my chest.
The man on the bed turned and smirked, licking his lips. He didn't even look ashamed.
"Leave us," Moga said to him, tossing him a wad of cash. He took it and strutted out like he owned the place.
I swallowed, still speechless.
"I–I didn't mean to interrupt…" I started.
"It's fine," Moga interrupted, her voice calm and commanding. She picked up a glass of alcohol, taking a slow sip like nothing had happened. She oozed confidence, danger, and control.
I stepped forward and dropped the wrapped-up money on the table. "Here. I brought what I owe."
She raised her brow. "There would be no need for that."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Go home," she said smoothly. "You're no longer under me."
"…what?"
"Luca paid for you. Signed for you. You are now his property." She took another sip, watching me over the rim of the glass like a queen with a condemned subject.
"What?" My voice cracked. "His… property?"
She nodded. "Yes. You belong to him now. Like his car, or his gun. You're his girl. He paid top dollar."
My heart stopped. "I—I didn't agree to that. He can't just buy me!"
She chuckled darkly. "He's a Moretti. They don't need permission. Be thankful. Most girls dream of being owned by a Moretti."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?!"
"Because it doesn't matter." Her tone was final. "If he finds out you came back here, I'd be on his blacklist. And trust me, you do not want to cross a Moretti."
I stepped back, trembling.
My mind spun like a broken record.
I'm owned. I'm bought. I'm… his?
Luca Moretti.
He kissed me.
Touched me.
Humiliated me.
And now he owned me?
What the hell is happening?
I stumbled out of the room, out of the suite, into the dark street where my life was no longer mine.
---
Elsewhere…
Luca's POV
I stared at the bed.
Her scent was still on the sheets.
Her image still burned in my brain—bare, beautiful, vulnerable.
And I let her go.
Why?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I've taken women harder, rougher. I've thrown bills at them, used them like they begged for it. I never hesitated. Never once felt guilty.
But with her?
I couldn't bring myself to take her like that.
She's soft.
Too soft.
Too… real.
That made her dangerous.
I slammed my fist into the wall. The ache in my knuckles didn't compare to the one in my chest. I wanted her. I craved her. But something about her made me feel… human.
Weakness.
That's what she was.
And I'd be damned if I let a woman make me weak.
Still, I couldn't let her go. So I did the only thing I knew how—I made her mine.
Fully.
Signed. Sealed. Bought.
She's not leaving my world now.
Not alive.
Not breathing.
Not after I've tasted her.
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