Chapter 44 Ren
Ren
Amelia is standing right in front of me. I can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her breath is hitching in a way that tells me she is just as wound up as I am.
"Don't do it, Luca," she whispers.
Her voice is a warning, but her body says something entirely different. I don't think I have ever wanted a woman as much as I want her now. She doesn't move. She doesn't pull away. She stays perfectly still in the narrow space between us, her gaze locked onto mine.
She is giving me the choice. She is standing there in the dark with a man she thinks is a billionaire civilian, while I am acutely aware that I am the monster she wants to put in a cage. The power is fully in my hands, and for the first time in my life, it feels like a heavy, dangerous thing to have. I could ruin her.
I slow the moment down, letting my eyes trace the way her breath catches in her throat. Her hands are resting against my chest, the fabric of my shirt bunching under her fingers.
She is conflicted. She told me to stop, yet she hasn't moved an inch.
I move my hand, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. She shivers. It is a tiny, violent reaction that sets my own blood on fire.
Internal warnings flare in my mind. I think of Sophia and the complication my father forced on me. I think of my empire, built on blood and secrecy. I think of Amelia’s own words, her promise to make me rot in a cell, to watch me burn.
If she knew who I was, she would put a bullet in my chest.
The stakes are higher than they have ever been. I ask myself if I should stop. Do I walk away and choose the control that has kept me alive this long?
I don't.
I lean down until my face is inches from hers. I can feel her warmth. My forehead rests against hers for a heartbeat, a pause that feels like a point of no return.
I am waiting for her to push me, to use one of the takedown maneuvers she learned in the academy. I am waiting for the soldier to wake up and realize she is in the arms of the enemy.
Instead, her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of my shirt. She grips me. It is a silent, desperate response that shatters my remaining restraint.
She whispers my name—the wrong name—and the sound is jagged and lost between us. Her intent is clear. She isn't passive. She is meeting me halfway in this disaster.
For a split second, the reality of my identity hits me like a blow. She is calling for "Luca." She is falling for a mask, for someone that isn't even real.
I find myself wishing, for a fleeting and impossible moment, that she would say "Ren" without the hate. I want to hear her say it without the desire to destroy me. It is wishful thinking. A lie I am telling myself to make me feel less terrible.
I pull back just an inch, my hands framing her face, my thumbs tracing the sharp line of her cheekbones.
Amelia is no longer just a distraction or a pawn in my game against her father and Valentino.
She is a weakness. And in my world, weaknesses are terminal.
“This was a mistake,” I mutter, the words tasting like ash. I knew it the second I didn’t stop. I knew it the second I let her get this close.
I look into her eyes and see the ruin of the man I used to be. She is going to destroy me. I can see it as clearly as the moonlight on the floor.
And I am still not letting her go.
I stay perfectly still, inches away from Amelia. I watch her eyes shut as she braces for an impact that hasn't come yet. Her breathing is jagged and uneven. Her fingers remain curled tightly into the front of my shirt, bunching the fabric in her fist.
I lean in, resting my forehead lightly against hers. The contact is minimal, but I feel her go rigid. She doesn't fight me. She doesn't pull back. She just waits for me to make a move or maybe I have it wrong?
"Last chance," I murmur, my voice a low vibration against her skin.
Amelia’s fingers only tighten their grip on my shirt. She doesn't speak. She just pulls me closer. Guess I didn't have it wrong. She wants this as much as I do.
I close the distance. The first contact is hesitant, like we are both measuring the danger. Then her hand slides from my chest to the back of my neck. Her fingers thread through my hair and pull me in.
The kiss hits with a raw urgency that catches me off guard. It is fierce and unrestrained. It feels like every moment we ignored and every word we didn't say are finally crashing down. She moves against me with a force that makes the world vanish. The penthouse, the mission, and the danger outside all dissolve.
For a heartbeat, it is just us. We are tangled together in a storm of heat and tension. Every breath is shared. Every movement feels like a surrender and a claim at the same time. I can feel her heart racing against mine, and for the first time in my life, I do not want to be anywhere else.
I pull back just an inch, my forehead resting against hers. We are both breathing hard. The silence in the hallway is gone, replaced by the sound of our own pulse. I look down at her and for a second, I forget about the Shadow. I forget about the war. I just see her.
"This is a mistake," she whispers, but she doesn't let go of my collar.
"I know," I say.
I lean in again, because knowing it is a mistake doesn't make me want her any less.
I am the one who finally pulls back. I am breathing heavily, my forehead resting against hers again. My hands stay locked at her waist, refusing to let go even as my pulse thunders in my ears.
Amelia opens her eyes slowly. They are clouded with confusion.
"This is a bad idea," she says again, quietly. Her voice is not as steady as it was a few minutes ago.
"I know," I say.
Amelia lets out a small breath that sounds like a dry laugh. "You’re engaged, Luca."
I stare at her. I don't move away. "That has nothing to do with this."
"That has everything to do with this," she counters. Her eyebrows pull together as she tries to find her footing.
"Not right now it doesn't."
"That is convenient," Amelia says. The bite returns to her tone. She is putting her wall back up, letting up her guard again.
I feel a smirk touch my lips. "Is that jealousy I hear, Captain?"
Amelia’s eyes narrow instantly. "Don’t push it."
"There it is," I say softly. "That is the version of you I am used to."
She exhales sharply and tries to step back, but my hand drops from her neck to her wrist. I catch her before she can put any real distance between us. My grip is firm but not rough.
"Luca," she warns.
"You felt that," I say. It isn't a question.
She looks away toward the dark kitchen. "It doesn’t matter."
"It does."
"It doesn’t," she repeats, her voice turning firm. "I have a job to do. I am not here to get distracted by you or whatever this is."
"And what exactly is this?"
"A mistake," she says without hesitation.
I study her face, noting the way she avoids my gaze and the way her breathing is still erratic. "Then why didn’t you stop me?"
Amelia freezes. She looks back at me with a flash of anger. "Don’t do that. Don't twist things. You started this."
"That is not how I remember it," I say.
She pulls her wrist free this time and I let go. She takes two steps back, putting space between us as if she needs the air to think.
"I am serious," she says, pointing a finger at me. "This ends here."
"You’re sure about that?"
"Yes."
The silence stretches between us. Neither of us moves toward our rooms.
I take a single step forward, testing her resolve. She doesn't step back.
I close the distance again, moving slow enough that she could walk away if she wanted to. She stays exactly where she is.
I bring my hand up to her face, my thumb brushing along the line of her jaw. Her eyes flicker, but she remains still.
"You’re lying," I say.
Amelia’s breath catches. "I don’t lie."
I lean in until I can feel the heat of her skin. "Then prove it."
Her lips part as if she is about to argue, but no words come out. I can see the internal battle behind her eyes, duty fighting instinct. I don't give her the distance she asked for.
"Say it again," I tell her. "And mean it this time."
Amelia swallows hard. "This is a mistake." Her voice is softer now but uncertain.
I hold her gaze for a long second before I lean in again. This time, I don't stop. I pull her into me, and as she reaches up to pull me down, the rest of the world stops mattering.
The kiss deepens and I pull her flush against me.
My hands are buried in her hair and I can feel the frantic beat of her heart against my chest. She is warm and she is real and for a moment I forget every lie I have ever told. I forget the empire and the blood and the mask.
She lets out a low sound and whispers a name against my lips.
"Luca."
The name hits me like a physical blow. It is the wrong name. She is kissing a ghost and she is holding a man who does not exist.
The realization snaps me out of the haze instantly. I am holding a woman who wants to see me locked up in a cell and she is falling for a character I created to deceive her and many others. If I keep going I am not just a criminal but a fool.
I pull back abruptly and my hands drop from her waist. I push her away with more force than I intended and she stumbles slightly against the wall.
I am breathing hard and my chest is heaving. I can see the confusion and the hurt in her eyes as she tries to find her balance. I feel a surge of anger at myself for letting it get this far.
"What is wrong with you?" Amelia asks. Her voice is jagged and her lips are still red from the kiss. Gosh! She looks so hot, I just want to take her in my arms again.
"You tell me, Captain," I say. My voice is cold and the sarcasm is back. I am rebuilding my wall piece by brick. "You are the one who keeps talking about duty and missions. I am just making sure you don't forget yours."
She looks at me like I just slapped her face. She pulls the shirt tight around her body and her expression hardens into a mask of defensive fury.
"Don't do that," she snaps. "Don't turn this on me. You were the one who followed me into the hallway. You were the one who wouldn't let it go."
"And you were the one who leaned in," I counter. I lean against the opposite wall and cross my arms. I need the distance. "Maybe you're just bored. Maybe the quiet life in the mountains made you soft and you are looking for a thrill before you go back to the dirt."
"I am not soft," she says. She takes a step toward me and her eyes are burning. "And I don't need a thrill from a man who is already promised to someone else. I forgot for a second that you are an engaged man, Luca. I forgot that this is all a game to people like you."
"My engagement is a business merger," I say and I dismiss her point with a wave of my hand. "It has nothing to do with why I stopped. I stopped because I realized I don't want to be your distraction. You are a guest in my house and I have work to do."
Amelia goes perfectly still. The fire in her eyes dies out and is replaced by a hollow silence that is much worse. She looks at me for a long time and I can see her pulling her dignity back around her like armor.
"You're right," she says. Her voice is void of any emotion. "I am a guest. I'll be out of your house as soon as I find Moretti. I'll make sure to stay on my side of the penthouse until then."
I want to reach out and tell her the truth. I want to tell her that I am not Luca and I am not a bored billionaire. I want to tell her that I stopped because I want her too much and it feels like a death sentence to my empire. I want to tell her my real name just to see her react to the man she actually hates.
"Amelia," I start to say.
She pauses and looks at me. She is waiting for an explanation or an apology. I look at her stubborn jaw and the way her hands are shaking and I realize I cannot say it. If I tell her who I am the hunt ends in a bloodbath right here in this hallway. I choose the lie because it is the only thing keeping her alive.
"Don't be late for the car at five," I say.
I turn my back on her and walk toward my office. I don't look back to see her face. I hear her bedroom door click shut and the sound echoes through the empty apartment.
I enter my office and lock the door behind me. I stand in the dark and realize that I have regained my control but I have lost everything else. I am still Ren Moretti and I am still alone.