Alessia
The cold sheets were a betrayal.
I woke alone.
The villa was deathly silent, blanketed in the kind of stillness that made my skin prickle. Not peaceful silence — no. This was the silence before a storm. The kind that hinted something was either terribly wrong… or being meticulously orchestrated.
My body ached — in places I hadn't known could ache. My thighs throbbed, a dull reminder of last night's brutality. Nikolai had not just taken me — he'd claimed me with a ferocity that had stolen my breath, cracked something inside me open, and filled it with wicked heat. I could still hear him — the guttural growl of "You're mine now. Even when you hate it."
A sound echoed from beyond the bedroom. I tensed.
I slipped out of bed, skin bare beneath the silk robe I found draped across a nearby chair. It was black, like everything else in this godforsaken place — decadent, suffocating. Wrapping it around me, I padded silently across the marble floor, the chill biting at my toes.
The hallway outside the bedroom was dimly lit. Shadows curled against the walls like quiet monsters. The scent of expensive tobacco, leather, and something darker clung to the air.
And then — I heard him.
Nikolai.
His voice was low, dangerous, like a blade sliding free of its sheath.
"…if anyone touches her, I'll rip their tongue out through their throat."
My heart stopped.
I leaned against the wall, hidden by shadows, peeking down over the sweeping staircase. He stood at the bottom, dressed in all black. A silk shirt stretched across his broad back. One hand curled around his phone. The other was clenched in a fist at his side.
"She is not a bargaining chip. She's mine. If they so much as breathe near her, I'll paint Sicily with their blood."
He wasn't exaggerating.
He meant it.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to still the thunder behind my ribs. The terrifying man who had chained me to his bed… was threatening war to protect me.
I didn't know what to feel. Fear? Gratitude? Lust?
Then his head turned — sharply, like a wolf catching scent.
His voice changed. "You're awake."
I flinched and stepped back.
By the time I looked again, he was already at the top of the stairs. Silent. Like a shadow.
His eyes locked onto me — dark, thunderous. "You were listening."
I didn't bother lying. "Yes."
He approached with the kind of calm that made my stomach twist.
"Who were you threatening because of me?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, his hand came up — not harshly, but firmly — and gripped my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his.
"You don't get to worry about my enemies, malyshka." His voice was cold steel. "That's my burden. Not yours."
"You mean your enemies who are trying to kill me?" I snapped.
He smiled. It was cruel. "No one's dying unless I say so."
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my cheek. "You're mine. And last night, you begged to be."
Heat pulsed between my legs.
I hated that he could do this — twist my mind, my body, my will with just a whisper. But it was the truth. I had begged. Screamed his name. Let him take me in every filthy way he wanted.
And worse — I wanted it again.
Before I could speak, he scooped me into his arms.
I gasped. "Put me down!"
"No."
"Nikolai—"
He didn't even glance at me. "Say it again."
"What?"
"My name." His grip tightened. "Say it like you did when I made you forget how to breathe."
I didn't.
So he kicked open a door and carried me into a room cloaked in darkness — his study. Shelves of books and antique weapons lined the walls. A leather chair stood in the center, like a throne.
He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, pinning me in place. One arm around my waist. The other sliding under my robe, inch by inch up my thigh.
"You've been pretending," he said. "Pretending you're not mine. That your body doesn't crave what your mouth denies."
I trembled as his hand slid higher.
"You've been avoiding the truth."
"I'm not avoiding anything," I whispered.
He chuckled darkly. "Liar."
His fingers gripped my throat — not to hurt, but to dominate. He tilted my head back until I was forced to meet his eyes. The robe fell open beneath his touch.
He stared at my bare body like it was something he owned. Something he'd bleed for.
"Look at you," he murmured. "Already wet."
He slid two fingers between my thighs. I moaned, hips jerking. He caught me easily, holding me down with nothing but sheer strength.
"Every time you glare at me," he said, "I remember how you looked when I fucked the fight out of you."
"Nikolai—"
"Shh. I'm not done."
His fingers plunged deep, and I gasped, eyes rolling back.
"Feel that?" he asked. "That's mine. You come on my hand, or not at all."
My breath hitched. His rhythm was slow torture — circling, pressing, thrusting until I was grinding against him, helpless and wrecked.
"Say it," he demanded. "Say who owns you."
"No—"
He slammed his fingers deeper. "Say it, krasivaya."
"You!" I cried. "You… you own me!"
He groaned, devouring my mouth as I came, trembling and raw.
But he didn't stop.
He lifted me just long enough to free himself, then slammed into me in one brutal, delicious thrust.
I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.
He moved inside me like a man starved — hard, fast, merciless.
"You want dark?" he hissed. "Then burn for me. Scream for me."
I shattered again, clinging to him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. He came with a broken growl, spilling into me, holding me like I might disappear.
The room fell silent.
Only our breath remained, ragged and uneven.
He held me long after, stroking my back.
And then, finally, his voice cut through the silence.
"They're moving."
I blinked. "Who?"
"Mancini's men. Two of them were seen near the east cliff."
Fear stabbed through me.
"You think they're coming for me?"
"I don't think." He looked down at me, brushing my hair from my face. "I know."
His voice was gentler now, but no less intense. "You're not safe, Alessia. Not out there. Not even in your own mind. The only place you're safe is here — under me. With me."
A part of me wanted to argue. To push him away. To scream that I wasn't some helpless possession.
But the bigger part…
The part that was still trembling from his touch…
Wanted to stay exactly where I was.
Wrapped in the arms of a monster who would kill the world to keep me breathing.