3rd person POV
Emery Stone had imagined university life to be a little chaotic, a little thrilling, and a lot of late-night studying with cups of hot cocoa and worn-out hoodies. What she hadn't imagined was walking into her new shared dorm room to find a half-unpacked black duffel bag, a leather jacket slung over the chair, and a very much not female voice saying, "You took your sweet time."
She blinked, once. Twice.
The guy on the bed wasn't just any guy. He looked like he stepped out of a mafia romance novel. Dark hair, longer at the top and falling into stormy eyes. A jawline sharp enough to hurt and the kind of lazy smirk that screamed danger.
"I—uh, sorry, I think you're in the wrong room," Emery said, hugging her tote bag tighter.
He didn't move from where he was reclining. "Luciano De Luca. You must be Emery. Cute name, soft vibe."
She narrowed her eyes. "The advert said I'd be sharing with a girl named Lucie."
"Last minute change," he said, shrugging. "Lucie dropped out. Her twin brother got stuck with the room. I'm her twin brother. Surprise."
"This has to be illegal or... deeply unethical."
Luciano arched an amused brow. "Want me to move out and sleep in the hallway? Or can we be adults and just deal with it?"
Emery's mouth opened to protest, but the landlord had already said it was too late to shuffle rooms. And technically, nothing illegal had happened. Just... humiliating. She was a soft girl. She liked fluffy socks, sad movies, and curling into bed with a book—not mafia-haired bad boys who smirked like the world owed them something.
And yet, here he was. Sprawled across his side of the king-size bed the landlord had kindly provided after realizing they'd have to share a room and bed.
Her life was over. She wanted to rot in bed. Instead, she went for a walk, hoping the wind would sweep away the strange reality.
Emery padded out of the ensuite bathroom later that night, hair wet, a small towel wrapped tightly around her body. She took two steps toward her suitcase and froze.
Luciano was holding her pink cotton pyjamas.
Up in the air.
With a grin.
"Looking for these?"
Her eyes went wide. "Give it."
"Say please."
"Luciano, I swear to God—"
"Actually, I prefer kisses over pleases," he said, now twirling her sleep top on his finger. "One on the cheek. Harmless."
She flushed. "Absolutely not."
"Then you can stand there and shiver," he said with a fake yawn, leaning back against the dresser like he had all the time in the world.
The worst part? She was shivering.
The towel slipped a fraction and she caught it quickly, cheeks burning. He wasn't even staring at her like a creep. He was annoyingly stoic, like he'd seen this kind of thing a million times.
Maybe he had.
Just as he moved to throw the pyjamas toward her, she blurted, "Fine!"
He paused.
Her eyes flickered up to his.
"One kiss on the cheek," she mumbled.
He turned his face slightly and closed his eyes, tilting his cheek toward her in mock anticipation. "I'm waiting."
Heart racing and knees wobbling, Emery stepped forward, stood on her toes, and quickly pecked his cheek.
"There. Now give."
Luciano smirked, handed the clothes over, and said, "You're adorable."
She slammed the bathroom door shut with a muttered curse.
Bedtime was worse.
"I sleep shirtless," he announced, pulling off his hoodie and revealing a perfectly sculpted chest and torso.
Emery yelped and spun around. "Put something on!"
"It's hot, sweetheart."
She covered her eyes with one hand and blindly crawled into bed. "Just—stay on your side."
"Crossing the invisible line would be a betrayal of trust," he said, laughter bubbling in his chest. "Scout's honor."
"You were never a scout," she snapped.
"You'd be surprised what I've been," he muttered.
It was only when she peeked through her fingers that she realized he was watching her. And laughing.
Deep and real.
Her heart stuttered.
"Good night, Emery," he said, switching off the light.
"Stay on your side," she mumbled again.
But in the middle of the night, she woke up warm.
Too warm.
Wrapped.
In someone.
Luciano's arm was draped around her waist, her face pressed against his chest, his heartbeat steady and close. His breath was slow and even, but his hold was protective. She didn't dare move.
Somehow, it felt... safe.
She drifted off again, against all better judgment.
Morning came too early.
The light peeked through the curtains and Emery stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes.
Luciano was still.
Eyes closed.
Chest rising gently beneath her cheek.
She knew she should move. Get up. Untangle herself and run far, far away from this weird and confusing warmth.
But instead... she stared.
His jawline was unfair. Sharp and shadowed with early stubble. His lashes were dark, long. His lips—
"BOO!"
She screamed.
And jumped.
Unfortunately, in the wrong direction.
She straddled him, full force, knees digging into either side of his waist, hands on his bare chest.
Her towel of modesty from the previous night? Long gone. Her pyjama top was barely holding its shape and her shorts had ridden up.
Luciano blinked at her, deadpan. "Well, good morning to you too."
She scrambled. Tried to get off. But he held her there, hands gently circling her hips.
"Still think I'm just a silly roommate?"
She didn't speak.
"Because I'm not. I told you last night—I'm in the mafia. Heir to the De Luca family."
She burst out laughing. "You're ridiculous."
"Believe what you want," he said with a lazy shrug. "Now that we're awake—want to go back to sleep like this, or...?"
"I hate you," she said, red-faced, trying to climb off.
He pulled her back gently and kissed her nose. "Sure you do."
She stayed there a second too long.
Too close.
Too warm.
Too confused.
But her heart was beating fast, and for the first time since arriving at university, Emery Stone felt wide awake.