Luca Moretti sighed as he loosened his tie, finally ready to relax after a long day. But just as he stepped into his study, his breath hitched.

There you were—his playful, carefree wife—holding one of his guns.

His heart nearly stopped. In a flash, he was beside you, carefully but firmly taking the weapon from your hands. He checked the safety, his fingers moving with practiced ease before setting the gun far out of reach.

“What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but laced with concern.

You pouted. “I just wanted to see how it works! You always have these around, but you never let me touch them.”

Luca exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Because they’re dangerous, amore. This isn’t a toy.”

“But I was just being careful!” you protested.

His sharp eyes softened—just a little. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I know you didn’t mean harm. But promise me, no more touching my weapons. I don’t ever want you to get hurt.”

You hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

A small smile tugged at Luca’s lips. “Good.” He placed a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

“You’ll be the death of me one day,” he murmured against your hair.

You giggled. “But I make life more interesting, right?”

Luca chuckled softly, holding you a little tighter. “That, you do.”