The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy

Chapter 0962

"I've been really busy," I say, wrinkling my nose at him, unable to help my wide smile. God, he's just...so precisely the same, isn't he? All tall and sexy and confident. “You know, since you left me naked and crying on the floor of your bedroom."

"Aw, come on, Ari," Luca says with a sigh, the smile slipping from his mouth, his head hanging. "You have to start right in with that?”

"Where would you prefer I start?" I ask quietly, not wanting to be cruel but also knowing that Luca has just got...such an easy way of turning things in his favor, of making it easy for me to forget that he's ever done anything wrong, ever.

And it usually starts with that pretty smile.

"How about we start with me apologizing?" he murmurs, lifting his soulful brown eyes to mine.

I quirk an eyebrow, letting him know that might be wise.

"That's the only thing that's been ringing in my head for weeks, after all," he says on a sigh. "It killed me, Ariel – after I left, and had like...eight seconds to think about it. I'm so, so fucking sorry - and then when you got kidnapped from that battlefield? And I wasn't there?" He hangs his head again and I see the true grief and regret that haunts him.

"You didn't look very sorry at the start," I say quietly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What?" he asks, lifting his head again, confusion bunching his brows.

I smirk a bit. "I saw the tabloids, Luca,"

turning his head to the

"Oh please, you were basically posing –

so was not

"Oh

it. "With your shirt just...casually unbuttoned like that?" I roll my eyes, shaking my

sighs, caught a bit, lifting his eyes to mine, apology and mischief

say, lifting my chin towards his chest. "Let's see

murmurs, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "And you're already trying to

to smack him on the chest. "Come on! You got it for me, after all. The

putting on a great

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pretending to be put out by this. But even has he does his fingers move to the buttons of his black shirt, quickly undoing them until he can pull the fabric aside and I can see it there – my name tattooed in flourishing

asks, low. "What do you

I mean, I'm no tattoo expert, but whoever did it truly did a fine job. I flick my eyes up to Luca with a smirk as I lean

shirt up. Again, deliberate. He gives a casual, handsome shrug, looking like a damn model

precisely how

all-dark and moody and

he always does. After all, his looks were always the weapon

I ask, tilting my head to the side, studying him. Allowing myself to enjoy this, but not falling into