A Big Deal

“OMFG....please don’t throw me, these are Chanel loafers. They barely make them in my size.”

I whisper-hiss the words at the giant mountain of a man currently shoving me through what smells like a very expensive mansion. Fresh polish, flowers, and the soft pitter-patter of maids’ shoes. Great. I’m being manhandled in a place that costs more than my entire existence.

“Don. She’s here.”

The big guy’s voice is pure gravel. I have no idea what “here” means, but the knot in my stomach already hates it.

“Please, big boy,” I try again, voice sweet and desperate. “As a fellow member of the Big Titty Committee, you should not sell out a fellow big girl.”

A low chuckle answers me. Not from the mountain. From somewhere deeper in the room. Dark. Controlled. The kind of sound that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Unmask her.”

The voice is quiet, but it cuts through everything. I know that tone. It’s the Don. The same Don who “saved” Daddy’s business and paid a disgusting amount of money for me like I was a rare painting instead of a chubby twenty-something with a sarcasm problem.

The black fabric is ripped off my face so hard my head snaps back. Then the mountain actually throws me forward. I stumble, nearly face-planting in these very expensive loafers I specifically asked him not to ruin.

“You motherfuc.....”

The curse dies in my throat the second I look up.

My heart stops.

“Mr. Don, please let me live,” I start babbling on pure panic, tears already burning. “I promise I have no redeemable qualities. I’m dramatic, I’m soft, I cry during dog commercials....”

Then my eyes actually focus.

Dark hair. Those same sharp, closed-off features. That same blank, unreadable stare that used to drive me crazy in high school.

“Luca…?”

The name falls out of me like a prayer and a curse at the same time.

Deluca.

Don Del Lucifer.

My mouth drops open. Shock hits first. Then, stupidly, relief. We had a good thing once. Before I ruined it. Before everything.

“Thank god, it’s just you,” I breathe, and then I’m moving.

I don’t think. I just run straight at him and throw my arms around his neck, burying his face in my very large chest like I’m trying to smother him with pure joy. He doesn’t react. Not a flinch. Not a breath. Nothing.

When I finally pull back, reality crashes in.

Holy shit.

High-school Luca was obsessively handsome in that quiet, hungry way. This man is something else entirely. Taller. Harder. Sharper. The kind of beautiful that feels dangerous. A walking wet dream in a black shirt that looks like it was tailored to ruin lives.

And I just motorboated a mafia don.

“Sorry,” I squeak, cheeks on fire. “Got a little too excited.”

Luca’s face stays exactly the same. Blank. Controlled. Like nothing about this moment is surprising to him.

I let out a shaky laugh and try to play it off the only way I know how.

“Haven’t changed much, huh, Luca?” I sigh, wiping under my eyes. “Well… fuck it. I’m so happy it’s you, babes. You could’ve just asked me to lunch, you know. Didn’t have to fake-kidnap me.”

I wait for it, the tiny almost-smile he used to give me when I was being ridiculous. The Luca version of laughter.

It never comes.

His eyes stay cold. Steady. Possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip for an entirely different reason.

“The ‘kidnapping’ is not fake.”

Luca’s voice is quiet, almost bored, but it lands like a slap. He stands there in that same black shirt, looking at me like I’m a problem he already solved years ago.

“You are the new Don Mother. But I see we’re still not taking life seriously… like usual.”

He goes silent for a moment. His eyes drag over me slowly, deliberately. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer.

“You haven’t changed either.”

He licks his lips. The way he looks at me is new and old at the same time, hungry in a way that makes every feeling I spent three years burying claw its way back up my throat.

I force a weak laugh.

“I assume you mean my personality, so you don’t have to keep staring.”

His gaze doesn’t move. It’s locked right on my chest.

“Hello? Eyes up here.” I snap, crossing my arms under my breasts out of pure reflex. “I know buying your love was wrong, okay? But we had fun, right? We were friends?”

The word comes out uneasy.

“We were more than friends,” he says flatly. “Friends don’t fu....”

“There are people everywhere!” I hiss, mortified, glancing at the maids pretending not to listen.

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t even blink. “My family knows. You are the new Don Mother.”

No emotion. No smile. Just that same blank, unreadable face he always wore when he was about to say something that would ruin me.

“You can’t just buy me,” I say, trying to sound firm.

He tilts his head slightly.

“I think if anybody knows that’s not true… it’s you.”

He steps closer. One long stride and he’s right in front of me. His fingers catch my chin and tilt my face up until I have no choice but to look at him.

“Look, I know Daddy fucked up....”

“Actually,” he interrupts, voice calm, “I knew the project would fall through. I just needed your father in my pocket.”

He says it like he’s telling me the weather.

My stomach drops.

“Why?”

I don’t get an answer in words.

Instead, he closes the last inch between us and presses his mouth to mine.

His lips are soft. Softer than I remember. For half a second I’m frozen, then his hand slides up and cups my breast through the fabric of my dress, thumb brushing over the curve like he owns the right to touch me. My mouth opens on a shocked little gasp and he takes the invitation instantly, sliding his tongue against mine in a slow, deep stroke that makes my knees weak.

I moan into his mouth before I can stop myself.

The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate. Heavy with something that feels a lot like three years of unfinished business. He tilts his head, deepening it, and for a moment I forget where I am. I forget who he is now. I just feel him.

When he finally pulls back, my lips are tingling and my chest is rising too fast.

He doesn’t look away.

“I did your father a favor,” he says quietly. “I saved his company. I saved you. You owe me.”

The words settle like a noose.

It’s the same as our original agreement.

The realization hits me hard enough to steal my breath.

“I want to go home, Luca,” I whisper. “I just bought you a little time back then. You don’t get to buy my whole life.”

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t raise his voice. He just looks past me for a second, like the conversation is already over.

“You owe me your life,” he says, almost gently.

Then his eyes come back to mine, cold and final.

“I’ll see you tonight. It’s been a long day for you.”

He turns away, dismissing me like the deal is already sealed.