Chapter 10 - Escaping the Westchester Estate into the Cold Manhattan Night
The heavy armored Mercedes-Benz rolled silently down the winding private driveway of the Westchester estate, leaving the towering iron security gates and the glittering stone fortress behind us in the snowy night.
Inside the vehicle, the heat hummed softly, but the air felt infinitely lighter than it had hours earlier.
I sat on the passenger side, staring out the window at the passing blur of snow-dusted evergreens, my heart still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Beside me, Luca sat in silence, his suit jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, resting his forehead against his hand.
For ten miles, neither of us spoke a single word.
Then, without turning his head, Luca reached across the space between us and took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
“You realize, of course,” Luca murmured, his voice deep and raspy, “that you just declared war on the most powerful syndicate in the tristate area.”
I turned my head to look at him, a faint, breathless smile touching my lips.
“Only after you threatened to burn them to the ground first,” I pointed out.
“Fair point,” he conceded, a low, genuine chuckle finally rumbling in his chest.
He turned his head then, his dark eyes meeting mine in the dim light of the cabin.
“Why did you do it, Emma?” he asked, his voice dropping all pretense of corporate armor, leaving only raw, exposed vulnerability.
“You could have stayed out of it. You could have let me fight my own family, taken your severance package, and walked away to a safe, quiet life where nobody shoots at you or tries to marry you off to a syndicate boss.”
I squeezed his fingers tightly, feeling the solid, unyielding warmth of his hand.
“Because a safe, quiet life sounds terribly boring,” I whispered, my heart swelling in my chest.
“And because… walking away stopped being an option the moment you looked at me in your office this afternoon and told me I was the only woman you would ever choose.”
Luca’s breath hitched.
In a single, fluid movement, he reached across the console, caught the back of my neck with his warm hand, and pulled me across the seat straight into his arms.
His lips met mine in a kiss that was fierce, desperate, and completely consuming—a burning wildfire that melted away every doubt, every fear, and every secret we had kept hidden behind our professional titles.
It wasn't a fake relationship anymore.
May you like
It wasn't a corporate strategy or a holiday emergency plan.
It was real.
