SOPHIE

I lean against the far wall of the bar, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending not to notice the way Alessio commands the room. But I see everything. How he laughs a little too loud, flashes that practiced smirk, and slides cocktails across the counter like he was born behind that bar.

He’s magnetic. Effortless. In his element.

And the women? They flock to him like he’s the main attraction.

One even tosses her hair and fingers her straw like she’s auditioning for a porn shoot.

He grins, polite but playful, and it’s like a knife sliding between my ribs.

My gut clenches. My jaw tightens.

I hate how I notice every touch, every lingering look.

It’s not that I don’t trust him.

It’s that I do.

And that terrifies me…because I know what happens when I start to care this much.

"Wow.” Halie slides into the booth beside me with a drink in one hand and a smirk in the other. “You look like a woman two seconds away from launching a Molotov cocktail at a blonde in a backless dress."

I arch a brow. “Subtlety has never been your thing, huh?”

She shrugs. “Neither had the patience. So, are we going to pretend you’re not mentally murdering every woman who flirts with him?”

“I’m not jealous,” I mutter, eyes glued to Alessio as he tosses a lime wedge into a shaker like a showman.

“Mmhmm.” She sips her drink. “Then why do you look like a panther ready to pounce?”

I sigh. “We slept together. Again.”

She lets out a low whistle. “Twice makes it a pattern. Three times makes it feelings.”

“It was stress relief,” I lie. Badly.

Halie grins. “Is that what we’re calling toe-curling orgasms now?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not serious.”

“Oh, babe.” She leans in, dropping her voice. “Then why does your heart look like it’s bartending in a black T-shirt and giving out smiles like party favors?”

I snort. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

“Dramatic? Please. You’re one flirtation away from challenging some girl to a duel.”

I laugh despite myself, then glance back toward Alessio. Just in time to catch him looking at me.

Yeah. I’m in trouble.

Before I can say anything else, a shadow falls across the table.

A man slides into the seat across from us, tall, broad-shouldered, and carved from cold marble. He’s dressed in tailored black, the kind of suit that whispers money and danger.

Instinctively, I stiffen.

Nikolai.

There’s coiled tension in him, something dangerous wrapped in elegance.

He's damn good-looking, in a deadly, Eastern-European-mafia kind of way. More Halie's type for sure.

Halie, of course, lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Well, hello,” she purrs, clearly undeterred by the chill rolling off him.

“Nikolai,” he says smoothly, extending a hand toward her.

She takes it, her grin widening. “Halie. Full-time menace, part-time goddess.”

He lifts an amused brow. “Impressive resume.”

I clear my throat. “Nikolai, this is Halie. Halie, Nikolai.”

He turns his gaze on me, sharp and assessing.

“You’ve done a good job with him.” He nods toward the bar where Alessio is juggling cocktail shakers like some damned sex god.

I follow his line of sight, my stomach flipping.

“He’s… different,” Nikolai adds.

“Different’s good, right?”

Nikolai tilts his head. “Only if it lasts.”

Something cold settles in my chest.

Halie, ever the mischief-maker, leans into Nikolai. “So, are all Russian mobsters this pretty, or did we just get lucky tonight?”

His lips twitch in a restrained smile. “We do have standards.”

Halie bats her lashes. “Good. So do I.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as the two of them spark off each other like live wires.

But when Nikolai turns back to me, his tone shifts.

“He’s lucky,” he says simply, gaze flicking to Alessio behind the bar.

“Don’t let him forget it.”

And something about the way he says it makes me wonder if that’s advice… or a threat.

The music throbs louder, and I use Halie’s flirt-fest with Nikolai as an excuse to escape.

I need air. Space. Sanity.

The dance floor is a pulsing blur of lights and bodies, and I lose myself in the movement, just enough to quiet the storm in my head.

The bass pounds through my veins.

I sway, let my eyes flutter shut, pretend I’m just a woman dancing, not one unraveling.

A hand brushes my waist.

I snap my eyes open to find a man, tall, sharp jaw, confident smile, smirking down at me.

He leans “You here alone, sweetheart?”

“No.” I step back a fraction.

He steps forward, looking around and closing the gap. “Doesn’t look like your date’s paying much attention.”

Before I can shoot back a retort, his fingers skim lower. Too low.

“Hands off, fucker.”

And suddenly, he’s there. One hand on my waist, the other grabbing the guy by the front of his shirt and slamming him back against the wall.

“Back off,” Alessio growls.

The man’s smug expression drops. “Whoa, easy th—”

Alessio’s fists tighten in the guy’s shirt. “Touch her again, and I’ll break your fucking hand.”

The guy raises his hands. “Okay, okay. Didn’t realize she was taken.”

“She’s not some thing to be taken.”

The guy stumbles off into the crowd.

I blink up at Alessio, heart hammering.

“What the hell was that?”

“I was protecting you.” He’s breathing hard.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He leans in, voice low and sharp. “You looked like you needed it.”

My jaw tightens. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“You don’t get to act like you don’t care.”

We’re toe-to-toe, heat rising, neither backing down.

I tilt my head to the front door. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t argue. He gives his regards to Nikolai while I bid Halie goodbye.

We’re silent all the way home.

But the tension? It doesn’t leave.

It crackles.

It burns.

The second we step inside the apartment, I bolt for the bathroom.

I need space. I need steam. I need anything to scrub away the fight still thrumming beneath my skin.

I strip down, crank the water hot enough to sting, and step under the spray.

For a while, it’s just me, the water, and the echo of Alessio’s voice in my head .

You don’t get to act like you don’t care.

God, why does he get under my skin like this?

The door creaks open.

I freeze. “What are you doing?”

Alessio steps inside, already tugging his shirt over his head, his eyes fixed on me through the haze. “Joining you.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m done pretending like we didn’t just have that fight.” He pushes his jeans down. “I’d rather be honest. Wouldn’t you?”

Before I can respond, the glass door opens, and he steps into the shower behind me.

His hands slide gently around my waist, fingers splayed, grounding me. His chest presses to my back. Warm. Steady. Too much.

“I don’t need saving.”

“I know.” He brushes wet strands of hair off my shoulder. “But I need you to know, I wasn’t trying to take your power. I just… lost mine when I saw that guy touch you.”

I turn slowly, facing him. “You can’t keep going caveman every time someone looks at me.”

“I know,” he says again. Softer. “I just… Fuck, Sophie. I’ve never cared like this before. It makes me stupid.”

I search his face, waiting for the smirk, the line, the cover-up. But there’s nothing there except him. Honest. Bare.

My chest tightens.

“Don’t do that again,” I say, voice shaking. “Don’t make me feel like I’m less because I needed help for a second.”

His expression crumbles just a little. “Never. I swear.”

And then he kisses me, slow, aching, reverent. Like an apology. Like a promise.

Steam curls around us, but the heat is already rising between our bodies.

He kisses me like the fight never happened, like it mattered, but this matters more.

The hot water beads between us, slick and scalding.

My back presses against the tile as his mouth trails from mine to my jaw, to the hollow beneath my ear.

I arch into him, breath catching when his hands roam down my sides with aching reverence.

Then I drop to my knees.

His eyes flare, body going rigid as I wrap my hands around his already-hard length.

I look up, letting the steam fog his expression as I drag my tongue along the underside of him. Slowly. Torturously.

He hisses, his hand bracing the wall above me.

“Soph…fuck…”

I don’t stop.

I want to unravel him.

I take him deeper, using my mouth like a prayer and my hands like I’ve memorized every inch of him. Because I have.

He groans, his hips jerking slightly as I hollow my cheeks, sucking his length until he’s cursing in Italian.

I lick his tip, flicking my tongue against his slit.

My hands wrap tighter around him, twisting and stroking his dick in one motion all the while having his tip in my mouth, my tongue teasing. I admit, this is one technique I learned from Halie.

And the way Alessio’s body is reacting, it’s working exactly the way she intended. I can taste his salty arousal.

“Fuck me,” he groans, pulling me up to my feet with shaky fingers.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Not yet,” I whisper, breathless.

He lifts me from the ground and spins me gently, guiding me to the wall, and presses against my back.

One hand skims down my waist, the other on the back of my neck, bending me over slowly.

His fingers trail down my spine, then lower, spreading me open with maddening care.

I brace myself, expecting his cock, but what I get is his mouth. Hot, insistent, worshipful.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, hands flying to the wall for support.

When I look back at him, he's on his knees, face buried in my ass cheeks.

"What are you doin—"

His tongue sweeps over me, teasing the sensitive folds before dipping lower, exploring me with a hunger that makes my knees buckle.

I moan, helpless against the flood of sensation as he licks between my thighs, then drags his mouth further back, circling places no one else has dared to touch.

The water drums against my skin, masking the filthy sounds of his tongue.

He groans against me, like he’s savoring every second.

I feel wild. Unraveled. Owned.

“Alessio,” I cry out, not sure if it’s a plea or a warning.

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, licking and sucking until I’m trembling, my thighs shaking from the onslaught of pleasure.

I push back against the tile in front of me, allowing him to plunge deeper.

His fingers slide into my soaking core, as his tongue does laps around my tight hole.

He picks up the pace as he dips a third finger fucking me harder.

"I'm coming," I cry, my legs shaking.

My juices squirt out onto his tongue as he continues to lick up every drop I offer him.

“Please, Alessio. I want you to fuck me.”

Only then does he rise, his breath hot against my ear.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he growls, voice ragged.

He eases his swollen head into me from behind.

I gasp, my pussy stretching, welcoming, shattering all at once.

And fuck, he's so thick for me.

“God, you feel good,” he groans, voice thick.

He thrusts slow, shallow at first, each roll of his hips deliberate. Possessive.

And the fact that he’s only fucking me with half his length is killing me.

"You're teasing me."

"Patience, dolcezza . I want you to beg for every inch."

I brace myself against the wall as he eases in a little more.

The water cascades over us, the beads dripping off my breasts.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile, moaning his name like a confession.

"More." My voice is rough with need. "Please, give me more."

The ridges of his fat cock, the thick veins pulsate with every stroke.

His thrusts are faster, but he's holding back.

Bastard.

“Harder, please. Don’t hold back.”

"Fuck it." His voice comes out labored as he's done torturing both of us.

"I'm going to fuck you like my dirty little slut," he growls.

His rhythm pounds into me, strong and raw. His hand grips my waist while the other pulls back on my hair.

My hands slip on the tile, nails scraping, legs shaking as pleasure builds at a terrifying pace.

The angle, the rhythm, the tension between us, it all fuses into something feral and soul deep.

The slapping of water and flesh fills the room.

His thrusts are no longer measured or controlled. They're purely animalistic. Raw.

He slaps my ass, and I feel the sting on my bare skin.

But I welcome the pain and pleasure he offers.

He's so deep into me as I coat him with my arousal.

“Come for me, Soph,” he growls into my neck, teeth grazing my shoulder.

"I need you to come on my fucking cock, like the dirty little slut are."

I should be insulted, but to my surprise, I'm not. It’s the opposite, it absolutely turns me on.

That I can give him this pleasure. That I can make him lose control.

I reach my climax, my body surrendering to pleasure, losing all self-control.

I shatter with a cry, body convulsing around him, my walls pulsing as heat erupts through every nerve.

He follows seconds later, with a harsh groan and a final thrust.

He pulsates in me. His grip tightening, as he's spilling inside me, his body trembling against mine.

My pussy continues to slide down his still hard length, milking every last drop of his warm arousal.

He holds us still, both arms wrapping me up as the hot water pours over us. The waves of pleasure wash over us as his cum slowly trails down my thighs.

We stay like that for a moment, breathless, clinging, spent.

Then he gently turns me, brushing wet hair from my face. And our eyes lock.

He peppers me with soft kisses.

Wordless, he lathers soap in his hands and begins to wash me, my arms, my thighs, my aching core. His touch is achingly tender.

He presses a kiss to my collarbone. My chest. My shoulders.

And another to my temple.

Not because it’s part of the sex.

Because it’s him.

Because it’s us.

Later that night, Alessio’s breathing is slow and even beside me, one arm slung over my waist like I’m his anchor.

My muscles feel like melted wax, relaxed, spent, the kind of ache that comes from being thoroughly, unapologetically loved. The steam from the shower may be gone, but its imprint lingers in every bone-deep throb of satisfaction.

But my mind?

It won’t stop spinning.

I slip my phone off the nightstand, careful not to disturb him, and open my inbox. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe a PR update. A campaign thread. A meme from Halie.

Instead, there’s another email.

No subject. No name.

Just one line:

Let him go, before he breaks you.

I stare at the words, cold dread slicing through the afterglow.

My finger hovers over the delete button.

But I don’t press it.

Instead, I close my phone, tuck it under the pillow, and shift my gaze to Alessio.

He looks peaceful.

But all I can hear is that warning echoing in my head like a heartbeat.

What if it’s already too late?