His Pretty Little Liar - The Devil’s Snare Series

Chapter Five

Luca

My mind is in disarray as I sauntered through the vast expanse of my property with purpose. I needed to find a place to gather my thoughts and sort out the turmoil that was raging inside me first. I had to entrap this liar to ensure she was kept far away from my secrets, and then I needed to get myself into check. The house is enormous, with more than twenty-eight bedrooms at my disposal, each more opulent than the last. I could have chosen any of them to deposit Emma in, but instead, I decided my bedroom was where she belonged.

My bedroom was my sanctuary, my place of refuge. It was located in the far corner of the property, away from the hustle and bustle of the remainder of the house. It is a spacious room, three times the size of any other in the compound, and it boasted the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in. As I forcibly pushed her in, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. This was my domain, my safe haven, the one place where I could be myself and let my guard down and yet I just single-handedly tarred it with her presence, which strangely didn't irk me as it should have.

My bedroom has always been off-limits. It is where I go to escape the world and its never-ending demands. It is where I can be alone with my deepest, darkest thoughts—thoughts that I have never shared with anyone else.

My room is so private that not even my most trusted men or the women I spend my evenings with have ever set foot inside. It is a place that is strictly off-limits to everyone but me.

However, despite all of this, I think I just made a decision that will haunt me every night for the rest of my life. I locked her in there—a woman who needed to be protected from harm—from me but who was now at risk of becoming my prey. I cannot help but wonder why I did it and what led me to make such a split-second decision with no thought of the fallout of my actions.

As I storm back down the dimly lit hallway, the sound of my footsteps echoes off the walls. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my mind is racing. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, and my muscles are tense and ready for some sort of action. Niko, my most trusted man, is hot on my heels, his eyes wide with anticipation as I walk through the hall.

"Luca, who was that?" he asks me, his voice low and urgent as if trying to decide if he needs to take action.

I turn to face him, my eyes blazing with fury. "That was my worst mistake and biggest nightmare all rolled up into one delicious human being," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "They think they can throw her at me to distract me from overtaking the organisation. Christ, how blatant can they get?"

A fierce grin spreads across my face as I contemplate the idea of having Emma in my house, in my room, at my disposal. The things I want to do to her, the punishments I wish to mete out. But I know better than to be reckless. After all, my birthright is at risk if I allow her to overtake me once again.

"That's Emma?" he asks, his brows raised in surprise.

I feel a deep anger rising within me at the thought of anyone laying claim to her. Emma is mine, and no one else has the right to her as they do with any other woman under my rule.

The growl that escapes me is low and menacing as if it comes from the depths of hell itself. I snarl at him, warning him to stay away from her.

"I have no interest in your girl," he reassures me, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence and taking two steps back. With a knowing look, he reminds me that he has his pick of the crop, that I give him any girl he desires, and that I am the facilitator. It's the same with the drugs and other illicit goods I deal in—I simply make it happen for those men who show me loyalty. As his words sink in, I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy and insecurity still, wondering if I'm honestly in control of this situation or if I'm just a pawn in this game that is my life. But I'm not stupid enough not to recognise that Emma's presence will change everything.

As I pour the amber liquid into the waiting tumbler, I take a moment to observe the man before me. I assess him carefully, trying to read his expression and body language. It's almost as if he sensed my need for a drink, as two ice cubes are already sitting at the bottom of the glass, ready to chill the alcohol I'm about to pour myself. The sound of the liquid hitting the cubes is oddly soothing, and I take a deep breath before taking a sip. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through my body, calming my nerves and allowing me to focus on the man in front of me once again.

He doesn't quiver or hesitate to breathe with a normal gait, for he knows I'll find nothing but truth in his eyes. I have nothing to worry about where he's concerned with Emma.

But the others, perhaps not so much. They work hard, and I allow them to play just as hard, as long as they keep their eye on the game and serve me well.

My mind couldn't help but wander to her. The way she moves, speaks, and laughs—everything about her had captivated me from the moment we met as children.

"She's not my girl," I ensured to tell him with a deadpan look of disinterest even though every fibre of my being tells me that she is, in more sense than just the title. Yet I couldn't let anyone know how strongly I felt about her.

My claim on her has never wavered; I promised myself I would trap her like a princess in a tower if my eyes ever landed on her again. And now, here she is, there she is in my bedroom, trapped just like a princess in a castle. The thought of having her all to myself was overwhelming, but I knew I had to be patient and play my cards right.

It's pretty ironic, isn't it? She seems to be utterly oblivious to what she has gotten herself into. It's almost as if she has no idea of the magnitude of the situation. It's a bit concerning, to be honest, but hopefully, I'll sweep that carpet from under her, revelling in her shock and disbelief when I do.

"Rumour has it that you will be wed before the months out. Things are rapidly changing, Luca. Your father wants you ready for the takeover before hostile enemies decide your empire is up for grabs whilst your head is in another game."

"My father doesn't always get what he wants, this will be one of those things. My head is only in one game; she is of no significance," I grumble unhappily.

Liar. She is the only significance!

"Neither do you; you know this has obviously been in the pipeline for more years than you'd like to accept. And I hate to say it, one sample and you'll be gone. You've been in love with the Principessa for more years than you're willing to admit."

"I can't help but wonder why she is now the most eligible bachelorette because, from where I'm standing, he had her sent away. He must have found fault in her before I did, and now I can't stop thinking about his reasoning for bringing her back," I drone.

Fuck, I hate being this forthcoming. But who better to be emotional with than my number one?

The truth is, I know deep down my father had a hand in sending her away without actually searching for the answer. I was a live wire, ready to make a show of the Don before my time to take over was even on the horizon. I ignored his pleas to follow the rules at every avenue in a show of defiance, and I took what wasn't mine to take. He punished me without a second thought, but now I wonder if he knows that I took it or if he just suspects that I was close to taking it. I need to finally find out the truth about what happened, but I don't know if I can trust anyone to help me without it getting back to him.

"What is that look for?" Niko asks, his eyes alight with amusement.

"I think it would be helpful to find out why she was sent away," I suggest to Niko, careful not to come across as demanding. I know he values our friendship and would never go against my wishes.

Niko and I have been friends for as long as I've known Emma. However, I always felt that Emma was too innocent to be around the people who are now my closest men.

But perhaps I was mistaken. If we had had a strong support system back then, maybe I wouldn't have lost her.

"I understand if you can't do it, I won't hold it against you," I say with a shrug, but we both know that going against me has consequences.

Those who cross me either end up in a shallow grave or disappear without a trace. Niko doesn't want to take that risk.

"I'll do my best to find out. But I have to be careful, Luca. Some secrets are meant to stay buried," Niko warns me.

"Let's hope that's not the case here," I mutter under my breath.

Niko nods and leaves me to my thoughts.

Part of me wants to storm into my room and confront her, but I know better than to let my anger control my actions. I refuse to let her dictate how I carry myself.

Perhaps her worst punishment will be the lack of s****l gratification whilst I parade my more than insatiable appetite while ensuring she never has a man again.

Instead of walking down to my room, I head through the hallways into my home office, where Mass, my number two, is inspecting a shipment of guns that are being verified to roll out by morning. Each has been hand-crafted and stamped with my emblem.

As soon as I entered my office, I noticed Mass sitting on my desk with his boots on. My frustration boils over as I bark, "Get your boots off my f*****g desk, Mass!" Without hesitation, I shove his legs off my desk, causing him to lose balance and spin in the office chair. He manages to catch himself with his boot to the side of my desk and looks up at me sheepishly.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down as I begin to survey the room, and my eyes fall on a collection of weapons in the corner. I walk over to them and ask Mass, "I assume these have homes to get to?"

He nods, "Yes, they'll be out of your hair no later than 10 pm tonight."

"Very good," I say, trying to sound composed, "get on that. A timely arrival means no money will be withheld." I can't help but smile facetiously, knowing that Mass won't want any deductions from his pay for transporting such sensitive shipments to their rightful owners.

As Mass reaches out to take the boxes, the other two beneath him offer their assistance. They quickly and efficiently transfer the boxes from one set of hands to the other as everyone involved silently communicates with each other through practised movements and gestures. Once the task is complete and they've taken the shipment out of my office, the three of them disperse.

I am left alone in the now empty office, surrounded by the silence that follows the brief flurry of activity. Taking this opportunity to rest and clear my mind, I sit down and try to focus on nothing in particular. However, my thoughts inevitably drift towards memories of Emma, and I find myself lost in recollection of the last time we spent together.

The soft swell of her breasts as I dragged her cami over her head, the dip between both hips where her weight was less than par as I laid her back on my bed.

Me fumbling with my c**k, not really knowing what the f**k I was doing with it other than knowing I needed to shove my way home inside her slick channel while taking her innocence on my terms and not my father's.

The way her back arched off the bed as I shoved myself inside her without due care and diligence, a small and quiet whimper at the pain of me forcing my way through the silly bit of tissue that proved her innocence.

I lasted not much longer than five spaced thrusts. And I sure as s**t know she found no pleasure in our communion.

I never took the time to appreciate her body, too complacent in ensuring she found pleasure first because of my own needs ruling my mind.

Yet, as a kid back then, pulling my shaft from between her plump lips with blood staining my length made me feel all man. If only I knew then what I know now.

It was then I resolved to make her mine forever, taking her home promptly, kissing her before tucking her inside her bedroom that her parents had believed she had been in for the prior thirty minutes. Only moments after I had returned home, I asked my uncle—not by blood—to steal the ring my grandmother left me to give to my future wife.

Of course, that may have been why my father sent her away; only time will tell.

My knife flings from my hand as the office door opens, my eyes blinking back to the present and the familiarity of the oak wood, dark walls and alcohol-clad shelves.

I watch its blade enter the wood of the door frame right beside Niko's face.

"The f**k?" He hisses with widened eyes and a whole bunch of shock. I haven't seen him swallow that harshly before.

"Don't sneak up on a snake; you won't like the bite," I grumble unhappily.

"I knocked three times as per instruction," he frowns.

"Did you?" I question sourly, noting just how engrossed I was in my mind.

"Perhaps it's time for bed; the quicker she's out of your system, the better," he shrugs.

"Things like that only come after matrimony is witnessed," I echo my father's words from many years ago, wincing as I do.

"Perhaps... either way, you need sleep; the shipment of women will arrive in the docks come five am, andyou need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You know a shipment this big brings around its own problems."

"You're right..."

"As always, Luca, and I'm right about her too; the quicker you retaste that delicacy, the better."

"You're wrong where she is concerned. I won't surface before you need me. She's a drug to be devoured, and one hit won't be enough. It's best left for a week I have no shipments at all." Not that I'm planning on taking her until the need arises.

As per my estimation, I believe that we have approximately a year or two before my father starts pressuring me to give him a grandchild and myself an heir.

"Really, that long?" he asks with a feigned outrage.

I stood up from my desk, smirking as I glanced at the clock on my wall. I had been sitting at my desk, lost in thought for almost an hour, which explained why my number one came searching for me.

As we make our way through the walls to the wing of the house where I reside, I turn to Niko, the only person I trust to venture this far. "The shipments left?" I inquire, my voice tinged with a hint of anxiety. Although I have complete faith in Niko's capabilities, the thought of anything going wrong with these crucial deliveries makes me uneasy every time.

As we approach the door of the parlours at this end of the hallway, I instinctively place my hand on Niko's chest to halt our progress. This is the only part of the house that I consider genuinely mine, and I'm adamant that it remains untainted by the unsavory aspects of my upbringing.

Despite my best efforts to separate the two sides of my life, the reality of my work and personal life often collide in ways that I can't control. So I have a clear divide in carpet to ensure my men know where my domain lies and that I'm off duty when in this part of my compound.

"I presumed you would want me to lock the door with the pair of you inside."

"Why would you presume that, Niko?"

"She must be locked inside now. Otherwise, a girl of her status would have left hours ago on the rampage to leave."

"She's here of her own free will."

"If you say so..." he tells me. His eyes dancing somewhere between playfulness and a smirk of disbelief.

Does he really believe I would force her to be here?

I approach the door and turn around to address him.

"No need to lock the door; I'll do it from within," I say steadily. "This is my only safe haven, and no one crosses the line," I point down to the division in the carpet. The division is clear and striking, with my black carpet starkly contrasting with the house's original blue carpet.

Niko nods in response to my request, and I turn back to the door. I reach inside my trousers to collect the key to my room, which I keep on a friendship bracelet that Emma made for me when she was just six years old. The memory of that day floods my mind, her sweet, angelic face and those big blue eyes that captured my heart at first sight.

I couldn't help but smile as I remembered how she had run towards me in excitement, eagerly trusting me with the hideous bracelet on my wrist. With the key in hand, I enter my room, lock the door behind me, and finally feel safe.

"There," she had said. "We're best friends now."

Christ Luca! Get a f*****g grip! She isn't that innocent girl who only had eyes for you anymore.

I slip the key back into my pocket, ready to head to my bed, when I notice it empty. Panic sets in as I start scanning the room frantically, hoping to glimpse Emma. It's almost 10:45 pm, and Emma should be sleeping by now.

As I continued my search around the room, I finally spotted her in my armchair, which had been pulled away from the desk. Emma sits sideways, her knees pulled to her chest, lost in thought. She's wearing one of my favourite white dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up around her forearms. Despite the familiarity of the shirt, it looks different on her- more relaxed and carefree.

As I take a deep breath, my heart rate gradually slows down, and I gaze at her with a sense of calmness, with my eyes partially closed. I can't help but notice the remarkable transformation in her features. The lines that were evident on her face have vanished, making her look ten years younger. Her appearance takes me back to the days when life wasn't as challenging as it is now.

Her blonde hair is tied in a messy bun, revealing her exquisite features. High cheekbones, a scattering of beautiful freckles on her face, pouty lips, and a well-defined chin define her beauty. Her unusual blonde beauty has always stood out from the crowd of typical Italian women. Brown eyes and dark hair were the norm around us, but she was the exception. She takes after her English mother through and through.

Her looks have always disfavored Bianca, her sister, from the day she was born. Despite this, she has always carried herself confidently, and her beauty remains undeniable.

A disgrace to our origins, according to some, but I never saw her white blonde hair as nothing more than a beautiful halo surrounding her head like the prettiest angel sent down from heaven to tempt me.

As I lift her up in my arms, I try my best not to disturb her peaceful sleep. Slowly and gently, I lay her down on my bed. My heart swells with love and admiration as I gaze at her sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of her chest is a soothing rhythm to my ears, and I can't help but notice the delicate vein running alongside her neck, pulsing with the beat of her heart. In that moment, I am struck by the sheer beauty of life and the miracle of its existence within the person I thought I had lost forever. A feeling of awe and gratitude fills my heart. I know I will cherish this moment forever; after all, my mind has wandered down many treacherous paths since she left.

I do the single worst thing imaginable as I kiss the pulse in her neck, which makes her move; her head lols to the side to allow me more access, dislodging the shirt from her collar bone, in turn, showing me where a puckered white line looks garish against her once perfectly unblemished skin.

"Oh, bambina," I choke on anger. "I'll kill whoever left this scar, mark my words," I promise.