Chapter 2 Lost In Lust

• The club throbbed with solid flesh, strobes blinking neon in bursts of shimmering through hazy air, specters to shadows. Luca Moretti ruled the arena, reclining in his VIP booth like a shimmering cat watching over his kingdom. Obsidian was his sanctuary, a den of chaos where he could feed the black storm brewing within him.
• Tonight, he needed the storm. Bitterness simmered from before, and nothing soothed his head as much as the shine of triumph afterward.
• He snapped his fingers. A waitress hastened to him, panting, her face contorted in a grimace of horror and desire. She had not begun to make a noise before he curled his fingers about her wrist and pulled her across his lap, his icy eyes scanning her face as though staking claim.
• "Undress," he said sternly, low and threatening.
• She obeyed once, hands shaking, dressing in a black gown over her head. Under strobe in black lace, she studied dancing hips swishing, hair swirling over cheek-flushes, eyes flashing back at him for sign-off.
• He danced with her just long enough for tension to crackle. Then he stood, his hands on her hips, and pulled her back into the darkness of the black velvet drapes at the rear of his private alcove. His action was swift, filled with hunger that was not desire, and every element of control.
• He slammed her into the wall, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. Her shriek was drowned out by the thumping music. His hold on her was metal, impenetrable, every thrust a reminder this was his game. He was awkward with her, every movement jerking, every sound drowned out by the club's relentless beat.
• When he had finished with her, he lay back, panting but with cold, distant eyes. She was propped against the wall, dress disheveled, eyes empty. He smoothed his jacket back into position with stiff courtesy, flinging a wad of money onto the low table before he moved away without a backward look.
• Outside, the night vibrated with the pulse of the city. Luca's heart still racing, he entered his car. Not until he was in his penthouse, his exhaustion enclosing him, the exhaustion of day and night clawing at his very marrow.
• He had quiet only in his mind. But what destiny had planned for him was a different tale.
• He was greeted by lemon wax and new linen scents. A figure was at the kitchen counter, folding towels. She glanced up at the door top opening, and time stood still.
• She was barely twenty-one, he estimated. Golden dawn blonde hair spilled down her back, shining in the weak light like a halo. Disorientingly wide, crystal blue eyes looked up at him, round and impossibly innocent. Her maid's uniform clung to her voluptuous figure, yet her stance was modest, even shy.
• "You are? "he said coolly. Luca was stunned by how gentle he sounded. He wasn't the type to speak softly to a lady, but there was something about her that softened him, something he could not control.
• "Isabella, sir...... I'm the new maid," she breathed, voice a tiny bell.
• Her eyes flicker up, and then out of his grasp once more, a coloring. Her fists shape within the towel she clutches, betraying her strain.
• Luca's eyelids constricted. She was too innocent
• , too far out of reach. Innocence in his world existed only to be a trick, a scam to get him to drop his guard. And yet… something in the way she said it, in the bare rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe.
• He bent, his gaze slow, purposeful. She stepped backward, her eyes wide, her hands snapping up to meet his as he towered over her. His hand twitched out, prepared to curve around the shape of her chin, to force her to meet his eyes, but in the instant before he did, his fingers trailed along the gentle curve of her cheek.
• There was a shock to him, searing an odd fire deep in his chest.
• She inhaled sharply, eyes snapping to his. Her fear was naked, unspoken. His thumb wavered, hovering beside her jaw, before he dropped it. He should have reveled in her shaking, but something new roiled ill in his belly.
• "Go to bed," he said low and unbelievably gentle voice.
• She nodded, eyes wide, and drifted down the hallway. Fast but quiet, the door to her bedroom slammed a shocked, sick whisper.
• Luca himself, panting, his face reflected at him from the dark glass. His desire to control hadn't diminished, but now, for the first time, it was balanced by something else. Something dangerous.
• He would reveal Isabella's secret. But now he let the fire she lit in him burn for another minute.