I grab Simon’s laptop and open it up. My lungs seize. There’s a page open that flits to a locked screen, but the logo is right there.
“Alyssa,” Simon breathes from behind me, dropping the bedding.
“You’re a cop?” I whisper, getting to my feet to face him.
“Why did you open that?” He’s pale, his hands pulling on tufts of his hair.
“I was going to book a ticket. I lost my phone. Simon, what the hell?” My heart races. What is he doing working at Vino’s?
“You can’t tell anyone. If Luca finds out about me, he’ll have me killed.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My head spins. I sit, and then stand. There’s too much happening. A chime rings out through the apartment, startling us both.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask, a wave of nausea twisting my gut.
“No,” Shaking his head, he runs over to a bag and grabs a gun from it.
What the hell is happening? He places a finger to his lips, and I follow him to the door, my stomach in knots.
Looking through the peephole, he turns to me, eyes wide. “Did you call him?”
“Who?” I ask, holding my hands up.
Tucking the gun behind his back, he unbolts the door and opens it a sliver. “Mr. Leto?”
What the hell? Does he have me bugged? “I’m here for Alyssa,” he growls, pushing Simon aside and kicking the door open farther.
Simon flattens himself against the wall, his eyes pleading with mine.
“Get your stuff,” Luca barks at me.
“I don’t have stuff.” I cross my arms, defiant and confused.
“Then let’s go.” He takes my hand, leading me out of the apartment. I don’t want to cause a scene and force Simon to reveal his gun, so I allow him to pull me forward.
Simon reaches for me as I cross the threshold. “Alyssa?”
Luca stops in his tracks, blue fiery eyes cutting to Simon’s grasp on me. “You better let go of my fiancée if you want to keep that hand.”
I’m released as if my skins made of lava.
Thud. Fiancée?
I glance one last time over my shoulder at Simon before my head is pushed down and I’m guided into a vehicle, Luca slipping in next to me.
“Luca, what’s going on?” I pant.
He smells of fresh linen and salt. “My father is deteriorating. I’m not sure how long he has left. We’re to be married. It happens soon—as early as next week.” He doesn’t even look at me while he tells me my fate. “I’ll give you what you want, get you back into Swan.”
Air whooshes from my lungs. I feel like I had an epiphany tonight in Simon’s apartment.
Simon.
My god, he’s undercover, it’s the only explanation. Spying on Luca?
“What if I changed my mind?” I murmur, looking down at my hands in my lap.
His glare slices into me, making me finch. “Have you?’
“I’m not sure…” Can I really not pursue ballet after everything I’ve done to get here?
“This was your proposal,” he reminds me.
I squirm in my seat. “I know that. I just don’t know if I need Swan, if I want to be a part of that place. My mother’s dream was for me to be what she couldn’t, and for so long, I got that confused with what I wanted.”
He grabs my jaw and turns my head to him. It’s not a painful grip like the many times before it, more of a caress.
“What is it you want?”
There’s a new look in his eyes, one I’ve never seen.
Soft.
Warm.
Caring.
My heart shudders.
“Freedom, from ever having to settle at that farm, to go back to that life,” I say honestly.
“Then you’ll have it.” He leans in, his lips brushing mine, so delicate, soft, it renders me motionless. “You’ll be Mrs. Leto, my queen.”
His queen.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Luca
Pulling up at the house, Alyssa’s eyes widen. Her door is opened for her, but she dips her head, looking out at the huge estate before slowly stepping out. “You live here?”
“At the moment, I have lots of property,” I tell her, standing beside her, taking her hand in mine.
She flinches in surprise, her eyes dropping to our linked hands.
Observing her dishevelled appearance, my jaw locks.
Her hair is wet, hanging loose down her back. She’s wearing an oversized shirt and ridiculous shorts.
Men’s clothing, obviously Simon’s, and way too big for her.
When I was informed she’d asked to be dropped off at his apartment, the alpha male in me conjured up a hundred excuses to kill him, then I remembered her touching herself, coming undone for me.
Simon is nothing to her. And to me? He’s an ant I can stomp on at any given moment.
“It’s incredible,” she breathes, rubbing her free hand up her arm to ward off a chill.
“Let’s go inside before you catch your death.”
Showing her around the important rooms—kitchen, my office, the bedroom she’ll be sleeping in—mine—warms something inside my chest.
Her reactions to the size and wealth of this place reminds me she doesn’t come from the same world I do. What I take for granted brings her awe.