Chapter 105 LET’S START ALL OVER
Chapter 105 LET’S START ALL OVER
••Luciana••
For the first time in weeks, the knot in my stomach had completely unraveled. I felt light, almost buoyant, as the moonlight danced across the ceiling.
I shifted slightly, propping myself up on one elbow to look at him. He looked younger when he was relaxed, the sharp, lethal edges of the Orlov heir softened by the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
“Is that offer still open?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Roman didn’t open his eyes, but a small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What offer, Princess? I make a lot of offers.”
I rolled my eyes, poking him gently in the ribs. “The vacation. The one you mentioned before. Just me and you, somewhere quiet, far away from the chaos.”
Roman went silent for a moment, finally opening one eye to look at me. He looked thoughtful, almost grave. “Ah, that. I’m not sure if that’s on the table anymore, Luciana.”
My heart did a painful little stutter. I felt the pout forming before I could stop it. “Why not? You told me to take my time before. You said I could choose whenever I was ready.”
“Opportunity comes but once, Princess,” he said, his voice reaching a mock-serious tone.
"In my world, if you don't grab a deal when it’s hot, the contract expires. You should know that by now.”
He was breaking my heart. I felt the sting of tears—stupid, dramatic tears—and I immediately turned the other way. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, turning my back to him so he couldn't see how much his teasing actually hurt.
“So,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to graze my bare arm, “you don't want to look at me anymore? You don't want to be in my skin?”
I didn’t answer. I stayed as still as a statue, staring at the far wall.
A low, rich rumble of laughter vibrated through the mattress. “What a drama princess! Truly, the Orlovs should have married into a theater troupe.”
“Let me be, Roman,” I huffed, though the sound of his laughter was already melting my resolve.
“You really believed that?” He moved closer, pressing his chest against my back, his breath warm against the nape of my neck.
“I told you that you are my priority now, Luci. What do you think that means? It means if you want the moon, I’ll find a way to buy the sky. A vacation is the least of it.”
I turned back to him, my eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “So you were just teasing me? While I was over here having a minor heart attack?”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted, his eyes dancing with mischief.
I reached out and gave him a sharp, playful knock on the forehead. Thump.
“Ouch! My head!” He recoiled, clutching his brow with an exaggerated grimace. “Is this how you treat your savior? Domestic violence?”
“Now you’re being the dramatic one,” I laughed, the sound bubbling up from my chest.
I scrambled up the bed, sitting cross-legged and wrapping the duvet around me like a cocoon. I felt like myself again, the Luciana who could joke, the Luciana who could dream.
That horrible phase of suspicion and grief felt like a bad movie I had finally walked out of. Now, I had Roman all to myself, and I was going to make up for every second we lost.
“Well, since you’re being so generous,” I began, counting off on my fingers, “I’ve been thinking. I want New York again. You didn't allow me to enjoy the tour last time because you were too busy being a brooding Mafia prince, and you promised we’d go back. Then, I want Paris. I want to see the lights, the scenery, the fashion and everything. And Mauritius! Oh my god, Roman, I saw pictures of the underwater waterfall. I absolutely have to go there.”
All the while I was yapping, listing destinations like a frantic travel agent, Roman just lay there.
His head was propped up by his hand, his eyes fixed on me with a look of such pure, unadulterated adoration that it made my cheeks flush. He had that sexiest smile on his face, the one that told me he wasn't listening to a word about travel, but he was listening to every beat of my heart.
“We can absolutely do all that, Princess,” he said once I finally ran out of breath. “New York, Paris, the moon... wherever you want to go, we go.”
I couldn’t help it. I lunged forward, jumping on him and pinning his shoulders to the mattress. I looked down at his face, my expression turning serious for a heartbeat.
“I promise, Roman. I won't allow anything to come between us again. No more secrets. No more listening to snakes like Marco.”
Roman reached up, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “You know what?”
“What?” I asked, bracing myself for another tease.
“How about we start over?” he suggested. His voice was soft, devoid of the weight of our history. “No baggage. No arranged marriage. No ghosts of brothers or fathers. Just us.”
I smiled, the warmth spreading through my entire body. “Let’s do that, then.”
Roman shifted, stretching out his hand between us for a formal handshake. “Hi. I’m Roman Orlov. I don’t like many things but I like you. It’s nice to meet you.”
I laughed, accepting his hand. His palm was large and warm, his grip steady.
“Hi. I’m Luciana Moretti. Well... I’m an Orlov now, actually. I like chocolate milk, and I’m falling for you.”
He smiled, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. “Tell me, Luciana Orlov... Can I be the love of your life?”
“Absofuckinglutely, yes,” I said, my grin so wide my teeth were showing.
I didn't wait for him to respond. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him upward and meeting his lips in a kiss that tasted like a fresh start.
The world outside the hotel room was still dangerous, and Marco was still a shadow in the distance, but for now, the only thing that mattered was the man in my arms and the long, beautiful road ahead of us.
We were starting over, and this time, we were playing for keeps.