S*X Contract With Invalid Mafia Boss

Chapter 17

Luca’s POV

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but the heat did nothing to douse the flicker of irritation Gio’s words had sparked.

"You’re in love with someone else," he’d said, his voice laced with mock conviction.

I’d laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in my ears, and chugged the rest of my drink in one go. The idea was absurd. Love? Me? If Gio knew anything about me, he’d know I was incapable of such weakness.

“Prove it,” Gio said, snapping his fingers. Within seconds, scantily clad women appeared, each one seemingly more desperate to catch my attention than the last.

One, a redhead with legs for days, slid onto my lap, her hands wandering without permission. “Ciao, bello,” she purred, leaning closer until her perfume choked me.

I pushed her off me with a sharp glare. “Have some dignity,” I muttered, brushing the creases from my suit as I stood.

Gio leaned back in his chair, smirking knowingly. “You’ve changed, amico. Two months ago, you’d have been on her faster than she could say ‘thank you.’ Now, look at you. Disgusted.”

“You think it’s funny?” I shot back, my irritation rising.

“I think it’s fascinating,” he replied, swirling his drink lazily. “A man like you, tamed by someone who’s not even here. Admit it, Luca—who is she?”

“There’s no one,” I snapped, my tone harsher than I intended.

Gio’s grin only widened. “If you say so, but mark my words, I’ll figure it out. No woman has ever turned you into this…” He gestured vaguely. “A reverend father.”

I shot him a warning look. “Mind your business.”

He chuckled, raising his glass in mock surrender. “If you insist. But I’ll say this: whoever she is, she’s something special to have made Luca Ferrante lose interest in half of Italy’s female population.”

Ignoring him, I glanced at my watch. “It’s late. I need to go.”

“Late?” Gio scoffed. “It’s barely ten. Don’t tell me you’ve started sleeping early now too. I know you, Luca—you won’t even close your eyes until dawn.”

I didn’t dignify his comment with a response, grabbing my coat and heading for the door.

I didn't come out to catch up after one of my hideouts was blown up just to be accused of such profanity. Love? I'd eat my hat if I ever fell in love with her.

The city was quiet, its streets bathed in a soft amber glow from the streetlights. I navigated the winding roads with ease, but a glance in the rearview mirror made my grip on the steering wheel tighten. A car, its headlights dimmed, was tailing me.

I slowed, turning down an unfamiliar street to test my suspicion. Sure enough, the car followed, its movements calculated.

Amateur, I thought grimly, a plan already forming.

Taking a sharp turn, I slipped down an alleyway, killing my headlights as I waited in the shadows. The car sped past, its driver unaware they’d been duped.

With the tail lost, I resumed my drive, but instead of heading to my penthouse, I found myself pulling into the parking garage of a condo I hadn’t visited in weeks.

Her condo.

The living room was dark, save for the faint glow from the streetlights outside. The silence was heavy, oppressive. I sank onto the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh as Gio’s words echoed in my mind.

“Then you must be in love with someone.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “We might be best friends, Gio, but that doesn’t mean you know me.” My voice sounded foreign in the empty space. “I could never fall in love with someone like her. Someone with no self-respect, no fight. She’s half-dead. What’s there to love?”

And yet…

The memory of her haunted me. Her quiet defiance, the way she’d stared at me with those empty yet piercing eyes. Her trembling hands. The curve of her lips when she’d first—

I shook my head, trying to banish the thoughts. Standing abruptly, I muttered, “I’ll prove it.”

I stormed toward her room, determined to remind myself of all the reasons why love was an impossibility.

But the sight of her stopped me cold.

Christine lay curled on the bed, her face half-buried in the pillow, her breathing soft and steady. She looked peaceful, the usual tension in her features smoothed away by sleep.

“She looks less like a zombie when she’s asleep,” I murmured, almost to myself.

I stepped closer, the faint scent of her hair reaching me. Without thinking, I brushed a stray strand from her face. She scrunched her nose in response, sneezing softly.

I sniffed my sleeve and grimaced. I reeked of whiskey and sweat. *Perfect.*

Heading to the bathroom, I turned on the shower, letting the scalding water wash away the grime of the day. I told myself it was for my own sake, but the truth lingered, unspoken.

When I returned, she hadn’t moved. Her hair still fanned out across the pillow, her lips slightly parted.

I reached out to adjust the blanket, but her hand shot out, gripping mine tightly in her sleep.

“Christine,” I said softly, trying to free myself. Her grip only tightened, and she murmured something unintelligible, snuggling closer.

I sighed, debating my options. *A normal employer would wake her up and demand to be released. But me?*

I climbed into bed beside her, my arm trapped beneath her head as she used it like a pillow. Her body pressed against mine, and I cursed silently as a familiar heat stirred in my lower half.

“Relax,” I muttered to myself. “She’s asleep. You don’t need to make this worse.” As if to make matters worse, Christine mumbled some words and jerked her knee right over my bulging crotch area as she cursed, "f**k you Luca!" And if not for her steady breathing and the sweet coo noise from the back of her throat, I would have convinced myself that she very much knew what she was doing

But as I lay there, unable to move, my mind wandered.

I glanced at the clock. 11:30.

She’d changed so much in the short time she’d been here. She was less combative, more withdrawn. Was she finding her classes fulfilling? Was she enjoying them?

The questions lingered as sleep, uncharacteristically swift, pulled me under.