Page 8 of Mine Again
We’re facing forward, our reflections locked in a silent exchange. His eyes are dark and intense and seem to grow hungrier with every floor we pass. There are only four; it’s a small hotel, after all. But even in that short span, the air thickens. My breath stutters, and blood rushes in my ears.
His thumb brushes gently over my knuckles. It’s enough to trigger tremors in my stomach. His lips twitch into that cocky smile that always catches me off guard, like he knows exactly what’s happening inside my body.
When the elevator halts, the doors slide open, and Luca steps out first, not giving me a chance to catch my breath. He moves effortlessly, his steps deliberate, guiding me down the hallway.
The soft swish of a keycard, followed by the muted click of the door opening, breaks through the quiet with a sharpness that sends a thrill skittering down my spine.
He holds out his free hand as an invitation to enter first. The atmosphere shifts again, deeper, sweeter, and my heart skips a beat. I step inside and freeze.
This room is not what I expected.
I blink, biting my lip as the details slowly register. This is no ordinary hotel room.
It’s a dream. A secret garden.
A love spell made real.
Soft, sheer veils in dusky pastels float from the ceiling, lit by stringsof fairy lights that flicker like distant stars. Rose petals cover the floor, and the bed, dressed in creamy linens, is strewn with them too. On the bedside table, a bouquet of pink and red roses spills from a crystal vase, their fragrance sweet and heady in the warm air.
The space is small and intimate. Every detail sings of care and intention. It’s like he’s reached into my soul and brought to life the kind of magic I only ever read about in fantasy novels.
Luca steps into the room, and the air shifts again.
That gentle magic he created still hums in the background, but the look he gives me cuts through it like lightning.
His gaze is pure possession, unfiltered and blazing. Creating something so tender seems to have only deepened the hunger in him.
I feel it in my bones.
He made this fairytale haven for me, but he is no fairytale prince. Not now.
The boy standing before me is fire and flesh and need, and I’m the only thing he wants to consume.
The contrast makes my pulse stutter. Everything around us whispers romance, but the heat in Luca’s eyes promises something else entirely. And I want both.
I want all of it.
“This time next year, you’ll be my wife,farfalla.” The promise in his tone winds its way down to my core. “And it’s going to be our wedding night.”
My heart stutters. This time next year, we’ll be married.
“I can’t wait,” I whisper. “I wish it was today.”
“Me too. This could be a rehearsal for the real deal,” he grins, stepping closer, his hands reaching for me.
His fingers graze my cheek, featherlight, as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The warmth of his touch lingers, and I let out a contented sigh.
When his thumb brushes over my lips, my breath catches and my pulse speeds up, my heart thudding faster beneath his gaze.
“This day has always been special, hasn’t it,farfalla? And not onlybecause it’s the day you were born.”
I smile because he’s right.
He’s been there for every one of my birthdays. First as a friend, then as more.
Every major turning point in my life seems to circle back to this date. And every one of them is tied to him.
“Two years ago, you kissed me for the first time,” I say, my voice hushed, the memory still vivid.
