Page 6 of Luca
Friends?Had I just been friend-zoned by the woman whose kiss had blown my mind? Aw, hell no!
“It’s true that I’ve enjoyed female company often in the past, Claire. I won’t lie to you. But the feelings I have for you are deeper than I’ve ever had for anyone before,” I told her, hoping she could hear the sincerity in my voice.
She didn’t.
“Ha, I doubt that!” she said with a wry smile.
“It’s true!” I insisted, the frustration in my voice rising as she refused to believe me.
As I watched her, the stubborn set of her jaw and the way she held herself tightly spoke volumes, and I realised she had fortified her walls, unwilling to let me in. It was clear that tonight wouldn’t be the night to break through.
Reluctantly, I stepped back, letting my hand fall away from her but keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“Goodnight, Luca,” she said quietly before turning away from me.
Watching her walk away, my heart clenched at the sight, and every instinct urged me to chase after her, but I stood my ground. This wasn’t the end.
I wasn’t the kind of man who easily gave up on something—or someone—I wanted. And I wanted Claire. Now more than ever. No matter how long it took or what I had to do, I would make her see that what we had felt when we kissed was real and worth fighting for.
She thought this was over, but I knew better. This was just the beginning.
Heading back inside, I felt the thrill of the chase coil tight within me, a burning desire I couldn’t ignore. What I had told her was true: Claire was different—she wasn’t just a fleeting flame. There was something about her that made me want to dive deeper, to unravel the mystery beneath her icy exterior.
That pull was dangerous. Wanting more meant stepping into uncharted territory, risking not just rejection but something deeper. In pursuing her, I wasn’t just playing with fire—I was risking an inferno that could consume me completely if I wasn’t careful.
My only concern was, would I survive it?
CHAPTER 3
CLAIRE BENSON
LONDON – EARLY JUNE, ALMOST A YEAR LATER – ON A WINNING STREAK
High heels clicking on the tarmac, I rushed from the office, running late as usual, and headed towards my car. Unlike most of my colleagues, who were forced to park in the nearby multi-storey, I had scored a coveted spot in the building’s car park—an unexpected perk granted after my recent string of successes.
Winning a couple of high-profile cases had made me one of the most talked-about defence lawyers in London. The partners at Turner and Hanson, eager to keep me on their team, had offered me a parking space and a pay rise to ensure my loyalty. For now, my commitment was firmly with them.
As a defence lawyer, my role was to uphold the integrity of the legal system, ensuring that every case was handled lawfully and fairly. I firmly believed that the court’s purpose was to seek justice, not merely to secure convictions. Every time I stepped into the courtroom, I felt the weight of that responsibility. For me, winning a case meant more than just securing my client’s freedom; it was about affirming the principles of justice and due process.
Sure, there were times when the outcome felt unjust. Clients were acquitted not because they were innocent, but due to flawsin the prosecution’s case or missteps in the investigation. That was the nature of the system, and while it made my job complex, I remained committed to the idea that everyone deserved a fair trial. It was my duty to ensure the law was followed. If that meant defending someone who had committed a crime, then so be it. I focused on the bigger picture; protecting the rights of the accused and maintaining the rule of law, even when the choices felt morally ambiguous.
Each case was a reminder that justice wasn’t always black and white. Navigating the murky waters of criminal defence wasn’t easy, but I hoped my principles would guide me, no matter how challenging the path became.
With the highest success rate in the firm, I felt the prospect of partnership inching closer. My current leverage was solid, but I had to keep the momentum going and maintain my streak.
I threw my wig and gown onto the passenger seat with my briefcase and jumped in. Tonight was Marcie’s twenty-ninth birthday party, and I had just over an hour to get home, get ready, and make it back into the City.
It was going to be tight. Really tight. But if I ordered an Uber as soon as I got home, I might just pull it off. It would cost a small fortune getting there and back, but Marcie was worth it.
Friday night traffic was lighter than expected, and for once, things seemed to be going my way. I made it home in less than an hour—fantastic!
I quickly called the Uber and jumped into the shower. Luckily, I’d washed my hair that morning, which shaved off some time. By the time the car arrived, I was dressed, makeup done, hair styled, and ready to go.
Grabbing my bag and Marcie’s gift, I dashed out the door, slipping into the back seat of the waiting car. As we cruised through the streets, I leaned back, already anticipating the night ahead.
The party was being held in the VIP section ofGlitz, one of the Rominovs’ clubs. Of course, that meant Luca Orlov would be there. He was their head of entertainment, after all.
My heart thudded at the idea of seeing him again even while I desperately tried not to feel excited about that. And my lady parts certainly hadn’t got the memo. I shifted in my seat, trying not to squirm in embarrassment at the wetness that was now coating my knickers at the very thought of him. Bloody hell, I needed to get a grip.