Luciano sat alone in his home office, the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the tall windows like molten gold—warm, soft, and utterly incongruous with the cold, controlled storm currently moving through him.
He leaned back in his black leather chair, the fine hide squeaking faintly beneath his weight, his fingertips tapping lightly against the polished desk. He replayed the morning in his mind: Eloise's staggering defiance. Her fire. The moment she had looked him dead in the eyes and said no, refusing to remove the pathetic gold chain.
Most people trembled before he even opened his mouth. But not her. Never her.
The memory coaxed a grin out of him—slow, lethal, and deeply appreciative. She had made a grave mistake insulting his mothers. That crossed a line he didn't tolerate from anyone, anywhere. But even then… even then, she'd been breathtaking.
Because beneath her fury, beneath her trembling voice and the tears of pain, her eyes had betrayed her.
