Dear readers here is the unfiltered version of the chapter if someone came from Wattpad...

IRA's pov

The silence in the house wasn’t peaceful.

It was maddening.

Luca had been gone for days — fourteen, to be exact. Two weeks of no slamming doors, no cruel smirks, no midnight threats or whispered commands. Two weeks of space to breathe. And yet, the space suffocated me.

He’d said little before he left.

> “Bruno will watch over you. Be good.”

And that was it.

No kiss. No warning. Just a look — sharp, unreadable — and then he disappeared like a storm receding into the distance, leaving destruction behind.

I told myself I hated him. Told myself I needed the break. But the ache in my chest disagreed.

And tonight, it throbbed everywhere.

The storm outside cracked through the sky. The rain lashed the windows. I tossed beneath the sheets but couldn’t sleep. My body was heavy with… something I couldn’t name.

Heat?

Need?

Desperation?

All of it.

I sat up, heart pounding, and moved to the wardrobe. My fingers brushed past starched shirts and tailored suits until they found it — his black hoodie. The one that always smelled like cedarwood, smoke, and something impossibly Luca.

I slipped it on, the oversized fabric swallowing me. The scent overwhelmed me instantly. Familiar. Addictive.

I crawled into his bed — our bed — and curled into the space he used to sleep. His pillow cradled my cheek.

> “I hate you,” I whispered.

My hand slid down the hoodie, brushing over my bare thigh. I’d only worn the hoodie. Nothing else.

> “I hate how much I need you right now.”

My thighs clenched involuntarily. My skin buzzed.

> “Luca…”

His name fell from my lips like sin.

I closed my eyes and imagined his voice. His grip on my hips. The way he called me bambolina when he was about to ruin me. The feel of his hand sliding under my jaw to force my gaze up.

I pressed my legs together. My fingers trailed slowly down my stomach, slipping beneath the hoodie hem. The cotton brushed my skin as I whispered again,

> “I miss you…”

And I let my hand move lower.

---

Meanwhile…

Across the world, in a high-rise suite overlooking Milan, Luca sat in the dark, jaw clenched.

The glow of the monitor lit his sharp features. His eyes didn’t blink. He didn’t speak.

On the screen: Ira.

His wife. His property.

Wearing his hoodie. On his bed. Whispering his name.

And now, touching herself like that — so soft. So needy. So unaware she was being watched.

He exhaled, slow and jagged.

> “Che cazzo…” (What the fuck…)

His hands curled into fists.

He should’ve been angry. Should’ve called Bruno. Should’ve yelled. But instead, he watched. Fascinated. Possessive.

And hard as st

one.

> “You miss me, dolcezza?” he muttered, voice dark.

> “Wait till I get home.”