The morning was quiet, but not peaceful. The air inside the mansion felt heavy, like the calm before a storm. Amara stood in the kitchen, slicing fresh strawberries for the breakfast tray she'd prepared for Luca. The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, soft and golden, but it did little to warm the cold stillness that hung in the air.
She didn't know why, but something about this morning felt different.
She'd barely arranged the tray when she heard footsteps — slow, deliberate. Luca appeared at the doorway, his dark hair slightly tousled, a phone in one hand, his jaw set tight. He looked powerful as always, but this time, his expression carried something else: unease.
"Good morning," she said carefully, trying to read him.
He stopped, phone still in his grip, eyes flicking toward her before softening slightly. "Morning."
"You look… tired."
"Didn't sleep much," he said, setting the phone down. "Long night."
She tried to smile. "Well, breakfast might help. Coffee's strong today."
Luca gave a faint grin but didn't sit. He looked around, like he was waiting for something — or someone. Before Amara could speak again, the kitchen door burst open. Two of Luca's men stepped in, both dressed in black, speaking in rushed Italian. Their tone was low, urgent.
Amara froze mid-step.
Luca's face hardened instantly. "Outside," he ordered. His voice carried authority that filled the room. The men obeyed, leaving as quickly as they'd entered.
She looked at him. "What's going on?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
"Luca—"
"Amara." He cut her off gently but firmly. "You work in my kitchen. You're safe here. That's all that matters."
But his eyes betrayed him — there was tension there, something brewing beneath the surface.
When he turned to leave, she stepped closer without thinking. "You say I'm safe, but even the air feels like it's holding a secret."
He stopped, slowly facing her. For a moment, the silence between them was deafening. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Secrets are what keep people alive in my world."
Her stomach tightened. My world. Those two words told her everything she didn't want to hear — that he wasn't just the polished billionaire everyone saw on TV. There was another Luca — the one people whispered about but never named.
Before she could respond, the sound of an engine roared outside. Tires screeched. The guards shouted.
Luca moved instantly, crossing to the window, his hand slipping subtly behind his back. When he turned slightly, she caught sight of something glinting beneath his jacket. A gun.
Her breath caught.
"Go upstairs," he said without looking at her.
"I—"
"Now, Amara!" His tone snapped through the air, sharp and commanding.
She stumbled back, startled. The sound of doors slamming echoed through the house. Luca motioned to one of his guards who'd rushed in. "Keep her out of sight," he ordered.
Amara hesitated, her pulse pounding. But something in her refused to hide. Instead of running upstairs, she ducked behind the archway near the kitchen entrance, her heart thundering as she peered toward the hallway.
Through the open space, she saw Luca step outside. His stance was calm but deadly — a man who'd done this before. Two black SUVs had pulled up to the front gate, engines rumbling.
She couldn't hear the words exchanged, only the tension in their tone. Then suddenly, the men left — just as fast as they came.
Luca reappeared minutes later, his expression unreadable. He looked toward the kitchen, and for a terrifying second, Amara thought he'd caught her watching.
But he only said, quietly, "You can come out now."
She stepped forward hesitantly. "Who were they?"
"Business," he replied flatly.
"That didn't look like business," she whispered.
He finally met her gaze — those dark eyes sharp, yet filled with something she couldn't name. "You're right," he said softly. "It wasn't."
Her heart hammered, part fear, part fascination.
"Amara," he said, taking a slow step closer, "whatever you think you saw today — forget it. Please."
It wasn't a threat. It was a plea.
And that scared her more than the men with guns.