"Take him out. Protect our business. I owe him nothing."
Rowan's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Don't misunderstand," he said calmly. "I'm not doing this for you… I'm doing this for Arabella. She's the one who will take over after you're gone."
A pause.
"But don't worry…"
His eyes darkened.
"Consider it done."
Alessandro is already a dead man walking.
Ryan Alessandro didn't miss things like this.
The moment he caught wind of Alex's move, he started planning.
And when Ryan planned—
He didn't fail.
Later that night, he sat on his bed, relaxed but dangerous. Shirtless, his body spoke of strength and control—broad shoulders, defined muscles, power held back beneath calm.
He picked up his phone.
Called her.
Arabella answered almost instantly.
"Baby," Ryan said smoothly, "get over here. Now."
A scoff came from the other end.
Her voice was sharp, laced with attitude.
"After what you did? Ignoring my calls? Telling your men to keep me out… and now you expect me to just come running?"
Ryan didn't react.
"You coming or not?"
A pause.
Then—
A soft, amused breath.
"Fine," she said. "I'll be there in five."
Ryan ended the call.
A slow smirk spread across his face as he leaned back against the headboard.
Exactly what he wanted.
Five minutes later—
She arrived.
Arabella stepped in like she owned the room.
A red bodycon dress hugged her figure perfectly, paired with matching heels. Her black Hermes bag hung loosely at her side, her long hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders.
She was stunning.
Dangerously so.
Ryan's gaze locked onto her the moment she entered.
Dark.
Intent.
Hungry—but controlled.
Arabella noticed.
Of course she did.
A small smirk played on her lips as she walked toward him, completely aware of the tension in the air.
She didn't hesitate.
Didn't ask.
She climbed onto the bed beside him.
"Strip."
Ryan's voice was low.
Commanding.
She didn't argue.
Didn't question.
Slowly… deliberately…
Arabella let the dress fall.
Ryan's POV
I watched her closely.
Every movement.
Every breath.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
And it worked.
Desire burned through me, sharp and demanding—but I kept control.
I always did.
"Get on the bed," I said quietly. "And stay still."
She obeyed.
But the look in her eyes?
It wasn't submission.
It was fire.
I leaned closer, my hand brushing against her skin, slow… deliberate… testing.
She reacted instantly.
A soft breath.
A shift.
Good.
I closed the distance, capturing her lips in a slow, controlled kiss—nothing rushed, nothing desperate.
Just dominance.
Her hands moved slightly, but I stopped them.
Not yet.
This wasn't about urgency.
It was about control.
Power.
Tension.
Every touch was intentional.
Every reaction… watched.
Measured.
Owned.
Her breath grew uneven.
Her composure slipping.
And that—
That was what I wanted.
I pulled back slightly, my gaze locking onto hers.
Dark.
Steady.
Unforgiving.
"Look at you…" I murmured.
A faint smirk.
"Already losing control."
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.
Because tonight—
Wasn't just about desire.
It was about reminding her…
Exactly who she belonged to.