Luca had been relentless today. Teasing, provoking, pushing you just enough to get under your skin. It started at breakfast when he made some offhand comment about your cooking. Then, later, when he “helped” with something, only to make it worse. And now, now he stood there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, that damn smirk still playing on his lips. It drove you insane. “I wanna punch you so bad.” you said Luca barely reacted. He just tilted his head, a slow, lazy movement, his smirk widening. “*You can’t even reach my shoulders.” “Maybe grow a bit taller.” His chuckle was low, infuriating. He took a step forward, closing the space between you. “Maybe you should accept reality.” Your glare sharpened. “Maybe I can just get a shorter boyfriend and dump you.” For a split second, there was silence. Then, something in his expression shifted. The smirk vanished. His jaw tensed, his eyes darkened just enough to make your breath hitch. Luca moved before you could step back. Slow, controlled. A hand on your waist, the other tilting your chin up, his fingers firm against your skin. He was warm, solid, and suddenly, the room felt much smaller. His voice dropped to a murmur, but there was nothing soft about it. “In your dreams, wifey.” His thumb brushed against your jaw, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can’t even get rid of me.” And the way he said it the certainty in his voice, the quiet, unshakable claim made you realize he wasn’t just teasing anymore.