Chapter 19 – The Touch That Burns

• The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of hay and earth through the estate’s stables. Alina stood just inside the wide wooden doors, eyes narrowing at the row of sleek horses, their coats gleaming in the early sun. Luciano was already there, his stance calm but commanding, as if he belonged not just to the shadows of his estate, but to the life beating under its skin.
• “Ever ridden before?” he asked, voice low, almost amused.
• Alina shook her head, folding her arms. “Can’t say I’m an expert.”
• He stepped closer, the space between them charged. “Good. I prefer beginners. Less bad habits to break.”
• She rolled her eyes but didn’t move away.
• Luciano selected a chestnut mare with a white blaze down her face. “Ruby. This one’s stubborn. Like you.”
• She smirked, “Glad to know you think highly of me.”
• He chuckled softly, then crouched to fit the saddle. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
• Alina approached cautiously, the horse shifting beneath her uncertain gaze.
• “Touch her here,” Luciano said, placing her hand over the mare’s neck. His fingers brushed hers, electric and steady. “Feel her heartbeat.”
• She swallowed hard, heat crawling up her neck.
• “Relax,” he said, stepping back but not breaking eye contact.
• The mare snorted softly, and Alina laughed, the tension easing just a little.
• “Mount up,” Luciano instructed.
• She fumbled with the stirrup, then with his help, swung herself into the saddle. The world tilted beneath her.
• “Hold tight,” Luciano said, his hand resting lightly on her waist for balance.
• Her breath hitched at the contact — his palm solid, grounding.
• “Not bad,” he said, eyes darkening. “Now, walk.”
• As the horse began to move, Luciano’s hand stayed close, brushing hers along the reins. Each touch was a spark, drawing a map of fire up her arm.
• Alina’s voice was a little shaky. “You make it sound so easy.”
• Luciano leaned in, voice low. “You’re stronger than you think.”
• They rode in silence, the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves matching the quickening beat between them.
• They returned to the stables after an hour, sweat shining on Alina’s skin despite the cool air. She dismounted clumsily, laughing as Luciano caught her arm to steady her.
• “Careful,” he warned, his breath hot near her ear.
• She pushed him playfully. “Maybe I’m stronger than you think.”
• Luciano’s eyes darkened. “We’ll see.”
• He moved closer, blocking her path with a slow, deliberate ease.
• Alina’s heart hammered.
• “Still think you don’t want me?” he whispered, breath brushing her cheek.
• Her lips parted, but no words came.
• Luciano’s hand slid up her arm, pinning her gently but firmly to the wooden stable wall. His presence was overwhelming — the heat of him, the sharp scent of his cologne mixing with the stable’s earthiness.
• She looked up, caught in his gaze, breath shallow.
• He leaned in, lips barely inches from hers, the tension crackling between them.
• But then he pulled back, voice low and rough. “Not yet.”
• Her chest heaved, breathless, wanting more but left wanting.
• Luciano’s eyes flicked away as he stepped back. “Ride again tomorrow.”
• She watched him leave, the silence stretching, filled with unspoken promises and dangerous games.
• That night, Alina’s dreams were no longer haunted by fear or anger.
• Instead, she saw Luciano — not cruel or cold, but with lips soft, warm against hers.
• She woke gasping, hand pressed to her mouth, heart wild.
• What was happening to her?
• The fire between them burned hotter than ever — and she was powerless to stop it.
• As dawn crept through her window, Alina stared at her reflection in the glass, her own eyes reflecting a storm — angry at herself for the way her body betrayed her, craving what she told herself she should despise.
• —————-
• The next morning, the estate was quieter than usual, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound as Alina made her way back to the stables. Her mind replayed last night’s dream — the softness in Luciano’s touch that both terrified and mesmerized her.
• She didn’t expect to find him already waiting.
• “Early,” she said, trying to sound casual.
• He smirked, eyes sharp but unreadable. “I don’t like wasting time.”
• Alina took a deep breath, the air thick with unsaid words. “Why do you keep pulling me closer, only to push me away?”
• Luciano’s gaze darkened. “Because power is not just about possession. It’s about control. And control is a game.”
• She stepped closer, daring. “What game?”
• “The one where neither of us knows the rules.”
• His hand found hers again, this time steady and sure, fingers entwining.
• Her pulse spiked. “You think I want this.”
• “No,” he whispered. “I know you do.”
• The tension wrapped around them like a living thing — dangerous, tempting.
• She met his eyes, defiance flickering. “I’m not yours to want.”
• Luciano’s thumb brushed over her knuckles. “Maybe not. But you’re here. And you’re my wife.”
• A silence stretched, heavy and electric.
• Then he pulled her into a low, dark smile. “Tonight, we see how far you’ll go.”
• Alina’s breath caught.
• “Because, piccola,” he said softly, “I’m not the only one burning.”
• As he stepped back, she realized this was no longer a battle of wills. It was something far more complicated — a fire they both stoked, even as it threatened to consume them.
• That night, Alina lay awake, the memory of his breath, the ghost of his touch searing her skin. Was it desire? Or a trap?
• Her thoughts spiraled as the moon cast shadows over her room, and she whispered into the darkness, “Who’s really playing who?”
• A knock at the door jolted her heart. She opened the door to find a black box on the floor and a note sealed with Luciano’s emblem — an invitation.