Chapter 146 BETWEEN US.
\~~~RAINA.
I stayed curled up in Luciano's arms, my face buried against his chest, the sobs finally slowing to hiccups. My eyes burned from all the crying, and my throat felt raw, like I'd swallowed sandpaper. The weight of what I'd just told him pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
I wondered if I could ever look at myself the same way. But Luciano held me tight, his hand stroking my back in slow, steady circles, like he was trying to smooth away the pain. It helped a little, but not enough to stop the guilt twisting in my gut.
After a while, when the tears had eased and the room felt quieter, I lifted my head just enough to whisper, “What do you think Alessia will say when she finds out both my parents are involved?” My voice came out small, shaky, like I was afraid of the answer.
Alessia was literally my sister now, too, and it would kill me if she suddenly hated me.
Luciano paused, his fingers stilling on my back for a second. He let out a soft sigh, his breath warm against my hair. “Alessia doesn’t know. I never told her, so she believed our mother died due to an accident.” His tone was even, but I could hear the old hurt laced through it, like a scar that never fully healed.
I sat up quickly, pulling back from his embrace to look at him. My heart pounded harder, surprise mixing with the ache in my chest. His dark eyes met mine, steady and unflinching, but there was a shadow there, something deep and guarded. “Why didn’t you ever tell her?” I asked, my voice rising a bit.
Alessia deserved the truth, didn't she?
He reached out, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb.
“Alessia loved our mother so much. It could ruin her if she knew it wasn’t an accident or natural cause,” His words hung in the air, simple but heavy.
I could see it in his face, the way he'd carried this alone for years, shielding his big sister from the ugliness.
“So, how did you know it wasn’t an accident if your sister didn’t?” I pressed, needing to understand. How had he pieced it together while everyone else pretended?
“I saw her body,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting to the window, like he was seeing it all over again.
I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. Him at thirteen, stumbling upon that horror. I tried to imagine a boy, not much older than a child, facing the brutal reality of death.
His mother's lifeless form, the blood, and the finality. It made my skin crawl, and fresh tears pricked at my eyes. “What... what did you see?” I whispered, though part of me dreaded the answer.
“Her body had been nearly damaged. She had two stab wounds on her neck.” His voice was flat, and detached, like he was reciting facts from a report. But I knew better as I could feel the tension in his body, and the way his jaw clenched.
Two? The word echoed in my mind, sharp and accusing. My mother had confessed to me earlier saying it was impulsive,and a moment of rage. But two stabs? That wasn't just impulse. That was deliberate, savoring the act, and driving the knife in again to make sure.
She'd hidden that detail, probably to paint herself as less of a monster.
God, the thought made bile rise in my throat. I sighed, heavy and defeated, and looked away, staring at the rumpled bedsheets instead of his face.
How could I be her daughter? How could I carry that blood?
Luciano shifted, sitting upright beside me. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, gentle but firm, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were soft now, filled with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured while his thumbs stroking my skin.
“You should not be,” he said, shaking his. head slightly.
“Trust me, I will never stop feeling sorry. My parents… they did this. I… God!” The words burst out of me, laced with anguish. I felt like I was drowning in it, the guilt crashing over me in waves. My family had destroyed his, and now it poisoned everything between us.
He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against mine for a moment. “It doesn’t change anything between us,” he said firmly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.
I pulled back just enough to search his face, tears spilling over again. “I am the child of those who murdered your mother. You will be reminded of that every time you see me!” I cried, the words tearing from my throat. It was true, wasn't it? Every glance, every touch and I'd be a walking reminder of the knife, the blood, and the betrayal.
“Trust me, that has never happened, and it never will,” he replied, his eyes locking onto mine with such intensity that I almost believed him. Almost.
“Luciano, I…” I started, but he cut me off, his mouth crashing down on mine in a sudden, abrupt kiss. It was fierce, demanding, like he was pouring all his reassurance into it.
“You talk too much,” he groaned against my lips, the sound rough and needy, before he kissed me again, deeper this time.
The world narrowed to that point of contact, his lips moving over mine with a hunger that ignited something deep inside me. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt as I poured my desperation into it. Our mouths tangled, tongues sliding together in a wet, urgent dance. He tasted like salt and coffee, and the scrape of his stubble against my chin sent sparks down my spine. I nipped at his lower lip, drawing a low growl from him, and he responded by tilting my head back, deepening the kiss until I was breathless, my body arching toward his.
His hands roamed down my sides, fingers hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulled it off slowly, inch by inch, his eyes dark with desire as he exposed my skin to the cool air of the room. Goosebumps rose on my arms, but his touch chased them away, warm and possessive. I tugged at his shirt in return, yanking it over his head with less patience, my nails grazing his chest as I tossed it aside. His muscles flexed under my palms, hard and familiar, and I traced his tattoos.
We fell back onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths. Luciano's mouth left mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw, then to my neck. He sucked gently at the pulse point there, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “Luciano,” I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him close. He moved lower, lips brushing over my collarbone, then down to my stomach. His tongue dipped into my navel, circling slowly, teasing, and I arched off the mattress, a soft whimper escaping me. Heat pooled between my legs, my body responding to every touch, every press of his mouth. His hands slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I moaned louder, lost in the building tension.
But then, his phone rang, shrill and insistent from the nightstand. The sound cut through the haze like a knife, pulling me back to reality. Luciano ignored it, his lips continuing their path across my skin, nipping at my hipbone. The ringing stopped, only to start again moments later, even more demanding.
“Pick it up,” I mumbled, my voice husky, though part of me didn't want him to stop.
“I am going to kill whoever it is,” he hissed, frustration lacing his words. He sat up reluctantly, reaching for the phone. His eyes flicked to the screen, and he answered with a growl. “This better be important, Viktor, or I swear I am…”
I couldn't hear Viktor's exact words, but whatever he said made Luciano's expression harden. And then I caught a name, clear as day in the quiet room.
Talia.
My twin sister.
Why was Viktor saying it now? My heart stuttered, suspicion creeping in like cold fingers.
“Meet me in my study,” Luciano said curtly, ending the call. He stood up, grabbing his shirt from the floor.
“What is going on?” I asked, sitting up too, the intimacy shattered. I pulled the sheet around me, suddenly exposed in more ways than one.
“Nothing, babe. I’ll be back soon,” he replied, his tone too casual, like he was brushing it off.
“I heard Talia. What is going on!” I demanded, my voice sharpening.
He paused midway through slipping his shirt back on, one arm half in, his eyes meeting mine with a flicker of
urgency.
“Well, you heard wrong, my sunshine,” he said smoothly, then turned and slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
But I wasn’t going to have that. I’d heard it clearly, and the way he dodged it only made my blood run hot.
I sat up fully, grabbing my discarded shirt from the bed and yanking it on. My heart raced as I dashed out of the room, bare feet padding down the hallway after him.
Whatever he was hiding, I wasn't going to be shoved outside it anymore.