The drive back to the townhouse was silent, the tension in the car thick and heavy. Rachel stared out the window, her mind racing. The adrenaline from the night's events had started to wear off, leaving behind a cold, bitter feeling in her chest. The violence, the danger—it was all so much darker than she'd imagined. And yet, she couldn't stop herself from feeling drawn to Luca's world.
"Are you all right?" Luca's voice broke through her thoughts, though his tone was far from concerned.
Rachel turned toward him, her eyes narrowing. "You're asking me if I'm all right after everything that just happened?"
Luca's jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "You were more useful than I expected tonight. You held your own."
"Are you trying to compliment me?" she scoffed, her irritation rising. "You've pulled me into a mess I never wanted to be part of, and now I'm supposed to thank you for—what? For almost getting me killed?"
He didn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze flickered to her, a brief moment of something unreadable in his eyes. Then, he focused back on the road. "I don't expect thanks. But you're not as helpless as you think."
Rachel bristled at the comment, but she didn't argue. She was too exhausted to fight. The events of the night had drained her, leaving behind a hollow ache in her chest. For the first time, she let herself feel the weight of it all—her brother's betrayal, the danger lurking around every corner, and the dark world she'd stepped into.
When they arrived at the townhouse, the door was opened by one of Luca's men, a silent, stern-looking figure who led them inside. Rachel felt like a ghost in this place—this cold, sterile house that felt so foreign to her. It wasn't hers, and yet, here she was, as much a prisoner as a guest.
Luca turned to face her before disappearing into the hall. "Get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" she echoed, her voice strained. "I didn't sign up for this."
Luca's gaze softened, just for a moment. "You signed up for something when you made that deal with me, Rachel. The rest... well, it's just part of the game."
Rachel stood still, watching him leave, her mind reeling. Part of her wanted to scream, to lash out at him for dragging her deeper into this twisted world. But another part, the part she hated, felt that familiar pull toward him—toward the power, the control, the dangerous allure.
But she wouldn't let herself fall into that. She couldn't.
The next morning, Rachel was summoned to Luca's office in the heart of the city. The sleek, modern space was lined with large windows, offering a sweeping view of the skyline. Luca sat behind a massive glass desk, his expression unreadable as he flipped through a folder of documents.
"Sit," he commanded without looking up.
Rachel obeyed, though her pride gnawed at her. She had never been someone who took orders, but the reality of her situation was too grim to ignore. She was stuck.
"Another job for you," Luca said, pushing the folder toward her. "A high-stakes auction in two days. We've gotten word that a rare piece is being sold—The Crown of Nebet. It's been lost for centuries, and I want it."
Rachel's opened the folder, her eyes scanning the details. "This isn't just any art theft, is it?" she said, her voice low.
"No," Luca replied, his gaze finally meeting hers. "It's more than just a painting or sculpture. The Crown of Nebet is a symbol of power. Whoever controls it holds influence over the entire Egyptian underworld. And that's what I want."
"You're talking about something bigger than art," Rachel said, her stomach twisting. "This isn't just about money or status—it's about control."
Luca's lips curled into a smirk. "Exactly. And I'll need your help to get it."
The next two days were a whirlwind of preparation. Rachel found herself immersed in the world of rare artifacts and high-society auctions, attending meetings with shady dealers and curators, all while trying to keep her emotions in check. The closer she got to the auction, the more she realized just how dangerous the stakes were.
As the night of the auction drew near, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Luca had been distant, his focus entirely on the upcoming heist, while Rachel's thoughts were consumed by the nagging question: What kind of man was he really?
They arrived at the auction venue—a grand, opulent ballroom filled with the city's wealthiest and most influential figures. The Crown of Nebet sat on display in a glass case, its jewels glinting under the dim lighting, a symbol of untold power.
Rachel was acutely aware of the eyes watching her, the subtle glances that followed her every movement. Luca had insisted she be the one to make the first move, to mingle and find out who else had their eye on the crown.
But as the night went on, Rachel felt the tension mounting. Every time she crossed paths with Luca, she could see the dark intensity in his eyes—the same look he had when they were working together on the Caravaggio. And though it unsettled her, there was something else there, something deeper.
As the auction progressed, Rachel managed to gather some key information. But before she could report back to Luca, she saw him move through the crowd with that same quiet confidence, his eyes fixed on the Crown of Nebet.
Then, without warning, the lights flickered.
The room plunged into darkness.
A gunshot rang out.
Rachel's heart stopped as chaos erupted around her. She instinctively ducked behind a pillar, her pulse racing. She could hear Luca's voice cutting through the panic, giving orders in the chaos.
"Get her out of here," Luca's voice snapped.
Before Rachel could react, a hand grasped her wrist, pulling her into the shadows. She turned to find Luca standing beside her, his expression dark and determined.
"You didn't think it would be easy, did you?" he murmured.