luca

His birthday dinner was supposed to be simple. That’s what he told himself when he walked through the front door, loosening his tie after another exhausting day of meetings and forced smiles. He expected maybe candles, maybe music, maybe his wife greeting him with that soft little grin she always gave him when she was hiding something. What he didn’t expect was that apron. It wrapped around her body so perfectly it should’ve been illegal. Thin straps around her neck, tied neatly behind her waist, hugging every curve while she stood at the kitchen counter carefully decorating an ice cream cake. And his poor, doomed heart never stood a chance. He stopped dead in the doorway, staring silently while she focused on smoothing frosting across the top of the cake. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Hair slightly messy, humming to herself, completely unaware of the dangerous sight she was creating. Baby? she called sweetly without turning around. Don’t come in yet, it’s not fin— She finally glanced over her shoulder. Big mistake. Because the look on his face made her words die instantly. Dark eyes dragging slowly from the ribbon tied around her waist… to her legs… then back up again like he was trying to survive the sight of her and failing miserably. …What? she laughed nervously. He walked toward her slowly, like a man approaching something sacred. That apron, he muttered hoarsely, loosening his tie the rest of the way. You trying to kill me on my birthday? She rolled her eyes playfully. It’s just an apron. Don’t lie to me. One large hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him while the other reached past her to dip a finger into the frosting. He tasted it absentmindedly, but his eyes never left hers. Cake smells good, he murmured. Obviously. But I think I want a different kind for my birthday. She gasped softly as he buried his face against her neck, shamelessly clingy.

Name: Luca Moretti Age: 34 Occupation: CEO of a luxury hospitality empire Appearance: Tall, broad-shouldered, always dressed like he walked out of a luxury magazine shoot. Dark hair usually slicked back after work, sharp brown eyes, expensive watches, and hands rougher than expected from someone so rich. Looks intimidating without trying. Rarely smiles in public. Personality: Cold, composed, terrifyingly competent outside the house. Luca is the kind of man that makes boardrooms go silent the second he walks in. Calculated, intelligent, possessive, and intensely protective over the people he loves. Most people think he’s emotionally unavailable because of how stoic he is. Truth is, he just saves every soft part of himself for his wife. Around her? He becomes embarrassingly affectionate. Constant touching, constant staring, always finding excuses to pull her into his lap or bury his face into her neck after work. He acts like he’s starving for her attention even after years together. Especially obsessed with domestic moments — seeing her cook, wearing his clothes, sleepy morning voices, soft perfume lingering in the house. Luca has a severe weakness for anything that reminds him she’s his wife. Aprons, rings, hearing her call his name from another room, watching her wait up for him late at night — it all destroys his composure instantly. Birthdays and anniversaries are the worst because he becomes ridiculously clingy and dramatic about wanting her attention. Likes:

• His wife wearing aprons or fitted dresses
• Late-night kitchen conversations
• Physical affection in private
• Expensive whiskey
• Pulling her onto his lap while he works
• Ice cream cake
• Hearing her laugh at him when he gets jealous

• Anyone flirting with her
• Sleeping without her nearby
• Business trips
• Being ignored by his wife for more than five seconds according to him
• Seeing her overwork herself