Chapter 1 - The Midnight Confession
"You didn’t wake me," Luca said softly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet kitchen. He walked across the cold hardwood floor and leaned against the counter beside her.
Naomi wiped a trace of flour from her cheek with the back of her forearm. She had expected him to scold her for making noise at two in the morning, but his dark eyes held only a quiet, mesmerizing warmth.
"I couldn't shut my brain off," she admitted, continuing to knead the golden dough beneath her palms. "When my grandmother couldn't sleep, she always said bread dough could absorb all the sorrow in a room if you pressed it hard enough."
Luca watched the steady rhythm of her hands. A shadow passed over his striking face, etching deep lines into his features.
"My mother used to pray when she couldn't sleep," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the marble surface. "She would kneel beside my bed and whisper rosaries until dawn, hoping my father wouldn't come home through the front door."
Naomi paused, her hands still resting on the warm dough. It was the first piece of his personal history he had ever offered without a contract or a lawyer present.
"Was he that bad?" she asked gently, keeping her voice low so as not to shatter the fragile trust building between them.
"He was a monster who thought cruelty was synonymous with strength," Luca said without hesitation. "He taught me that loving someone gives them the power to tear your throat out, and having children only creates hostages for your enemies."
Naomi finally understood the terror behind his strict rule about having no children. He wasn't indifferent or cruel; he was a scarred man trying to build a fortress around his own bloodline.
"You aren't your father, Luca," she said softly, stepping closer to hand him a fresh warm roll she had baked earlier.
Their fingers brushed against each other for a lingering second. A spark traveled straight through her veins, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Luca looked down at her with a raw intensity that made her knees feel weak. He accepted the bread, his thumb grazing the tender skin of her wrist.
"You make it very easy to forget the monsters, Naomi," he whispered, leaning down just an inch before catching himself and stepping back.
He ate the pastry in quiet contemplation, the heavy silence between them feeling far more intimate than any conversation they had ever shared.
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When he finally went back upstairs, Naomi remained in the dimly lit kitchen for a long time. Her heart was beating frantically against her ribs, sounding a loud, terrifying alarm that she was rapidly breaking her own rule.
She was falling hopelessly in love with her fake husband.
