Kate's POV:

The past few days had been anything but ordinary. Lucio's constant presence in my room had become a routine, and although I knew his whole "injury" act was fake, I hadn't had the strength to kick him out. It wasn't like he would've left anyway. He was as persistent as a storm, refusing to let up until he got his way.

Tonight, however, he had a different idea.

"Kate, let's go out," Lucio said, sprawled across my bed, his hand propping up his chin as he watched me from across the room.

I glanced up from my desk, where I was drowning in assignments. "I can't. I have homework to finish."

"I'm not asking," he replied, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "I'm telling you. We're going out."

I sighed, rubbing my temples in frustration. His persistence was relentless, and I knew I couldn't win this argument. "Lucio, I really can't. I have deadlines—"

"You're coming," he interrupted, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. "Or I'll carry you out myself."

His determination was infuriating, but I had learned by now that arguing with him was like trying to stop the tide. With a heavy sigh, I closed my laptop and crossed my arms. "Fine. But I'm not dressing up."

"You'll look perfect in whatever you wear," he said with a wink.

We pulled up in front of a grand, gilded restaurant. It looked closed, the lights inside dimmed, and the front doors locked. I raised an eyebrow as Lucio opened the car door for me, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Thank you," I mumbled as I stepped out, glancing around. "But it's closed."

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me. "Not for us. Come on."

As we stepped inside, I gasped at the sight before me. The restaurant's interior was breathtaking—marble floors, gold-accented chandeliers, and intricate murals adorned the walls. The opulence was almost overwhelming.

"Lucio, this is... stunning," I said, spinning in place to take it all in. "But why is it empty?"

"Just wait," he said with a knowing grin.

Before I could press him for answers, an older gentleman in a sharp suit approached us, his face lighting up when he saw Lucio.

"Ah, sir Lucio! It's been too long," the man said in a thick Italian accent, bowing slightly.

"Marko, it has been a while," Lucio replied warmly, shaking his hand.

Marko's eyes shifted to me, and his face lit up even more. "And who is this beautiful lady?"

"Kate," Lucio said, pulling me closer. "Isn't she pretty?"

My cheeks flushed as he kissed me on the cheek, and I ducked my head to hide the growing redness.

"Very pretty indeed," Marko said, taking my hand and kissing it gallantly. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Kate."

Lucio chuckled, guiding me further into the restaurant. We passed through a set of large double doors and entered a room bustling with life. People filled the tables, chatting and laughing, the sound of clinking glasses and soft music filling the air.

"This place is incredible," I whispered, taking in the lively atmosphere.

Lucio led us to a private booth with a stunning view of the city skyline. As I slid into the seat, he pulled me onto his side of the booth, his arm draping casually over my shoulder. The closeness sent a jolt of awareness through me.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, turning to face him.

"To eat," he said simply, handing me a menu.

"It's nine o'clock," I pointed out, exasperated. "I should be doing my homework."

"You work too much," he replied, brushing off my protest. "Relax for a night."

I sighed, flipping open the menu, when a young waitress approached our table. Her eyes immediately locked onto Lucio, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"Good evening, sir. What can I get for you?" she asked, her voice dripping with honey.

"Just the usual. Marko knows what I like," Lucio said, not sparing her a second glance. His focus remained entirely on me.

"And for your... sister?" the waitress asked, glancing at me dismissively.

Sister? I opened my mouth to correct her, but Lucio spoke first.

"She's not my sister," he said, his tone cold. "She's my wife."

My heart stopped at his words, and I turned to him in shock. "Lucio—"

"Lasagna with extra cheese, less sauce," I blurted out, ignoring the fact that my face was now burning.

The waitress's fake smile faltered, and her gaze flickered between us. "Right. I'll be back shortly."

As she walked away, I glared at Lucio. "Wife? Really?"

"What?" he said innocently. "It's true in spirit."

I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, but I couldn't deny the warmth that bloomed in my chest.

When the food arrived, I barely had a chance to take a bite before the waitress returned, her demeanor noticeably frostier. She leaned in toward Lucio, her tone laced with irritation.

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" she asked, pointedly ignoring me.

Lucio finally turned to her, his expression hard. "No. You can leave now."

The waitress's lips tightened into a thin line, but she stormed off without another word.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "She's something, isn't she?"

"She's fired," Lucio said flatly, taking another bite of his pasta.

"What?" I choked out. "You can't just—"

"I can. And I did," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I stared at him, my mouth agape, but decided against pressing the matter. Lucio was impossible, but he was also... mine. At least for tonight.

The car ride home was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine. Lucio's hand rested on my thigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns that sent shivers up my spine. I wanted to say something, but the words caught in my throat.

As we pulled into the driveway, he finally broke the silence. "Tonight wasn't so bad, was it?"

I glanced at him, his smirk as infuriating as ever, and shook my head. "It was... fine."

He chuckled, stepping out of the car and opening my door. As I stepped out, his hand slipped into mine, his fingers intertwining with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, I forgot about the chaos, the arguments, and the tension. For a moment, it was just us.

And it felt perfect.

Lucio didn't let go of my hand as we walked toward the house, his grip firm yet gentle. I wanted to pull away, to shake off the strange warmth spreading through my chest, but I didn't. The night was quiet, the stars scattered across the sky like diamonds, and his presence, though maddening, felt oddly comforting.

As we stepped into the grand foyer, the warmth faded, replaced by a familiar unease. The silence of the house was too loud, the ticking of the clock in the hallway echoing with each second. Lucio's hand finally dropped from mine, and I immediately missed the contact, though I'd never admit it.

"I'll walk you to your room," he said, his voice softer than usual.

"I think I can manage," I replied, trying to sound indifferent.

His gaze flickered with something unreadable, but he didn't argue. Instead, he nodded and turned toward the kitchen. "Goodnight, Kate."

I hesitated at the base of the stairs, watching him disappear into the dimly lit corridor. My fingers brushed against my lips, remembering the casual kiss he'd planted on my cheek earlier in the evening. It was nothing—just Lucio being Lucio. So why was my heart racing?

I lay in bed, the plush covers pulled up to my chin as I stared at the ceiling. Sleep was elusive, my mind a tangled web of thoughts. Lucio's words from earlier replayed in my head, and his declaration at the restaurant echoed like a broken record.

"She's my wife."

I groaned, rolling onto my side. "Why does he have to make everything so complicated?" I muttered into the darkness.

A faint knock at the door startled me. Before I could respond, it opened, and Lucio stepped inside, his silhouette illuminated by the hallway light. He was holding a glass of water and wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt that made him look almost... normal.

"Couldn't sleep," he said simply, walking over to my bed.

"You and me both," I replied, sitting up. "But why are you in my room?"

He smirked, setting the glass on the nightstand. "It's quieter here."

I raised an eyebrow. "And your massive room isn't?"

"Too quiet," he said with a shrug, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Besides, you're better company."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out."

"Not yet."

He chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. "Let's watch something. It might help."

I reached for the remote, flipping through channels until I landed on a rom-com. Lucio groaned in protest, but I ignored him, settling back against the pillows. As the movie played, I found myself sneaking glances at him, his profile softened by the flickering light of the screen.

Halfway through the movie, I felt my eyelids grow heavy. My head tilted to the side, and before I knew it, I was leaning against his shoulder. His body tensed for a moment before he relaxed, his arm draping around me as if it belonged there.

When I woke the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the warmth. I blinked groggily, realizing I was still leaning against Lucio, his arm wrapped protectively around me. His steady breathing was soft and rhythmic, his face just inches from mine.

For a moment, I let myself watch him. His usual sharp features were softened in sleep, making him look almost... peaceful. Vulnerable, even. It was a side of him I rarely saw, and it stirred something unfamiliar in my chest.

His eyes fluttered open, catching me off guard. Our gazes locked, and before I could say anything, we both tried to sit up—only to bump our heads together with a loud thud.

"Ow!" I yelped, clutching my forehead.

Lucio winced, rubbing his temple. "Good morning to you too."

I couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the moment breaking the tension. "That's what you get for sneaking into my bed."

He smirked, leaning closer. "I wasn't sneaking. You invited me."

"In your dreams, Mr. Billionaire."

His laughter joined mine, and for a moment, the walls we'd built around ourselves seemed to crumble. It was just us, tangled in a mess of blankets and laughter, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

But reality had a way of creeping back in.

Lucio's phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a name I didn't recognize. His expression hardened as he reached for it, the warmth in his eyes replaced by the cool, calculated demeanor I'd come to expect.

"Duty calls," he said, his voice neutral.

"Of course it does," I replied, trying to keep the disappointment from creeping into my tone.

He hesitated for a moment, as if considering staying, but then he stood, ruffling my hair playfully before heading for the door. "Don't miss me too much, love."

"Don't flatter yourself," I shot back, though my heart wasn't in the retort.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I fell back against the pillows, my mind racing. Lucio was a mystery I couldn't unravel, a storm I couldn't outrun. And yet, I couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

Even if it meant getting caught in the chaos.