Page 32 of Brutal Crown

“No?” He leans forward. “You bat those lashes, tilt your head, and act like you’re justcurious. But you’re fishing,Stellina. You’re always fishing.”

“I’m not?—”

“Relax,” he says, smiling, but there’s no softness in it. “I kind of like it. It’s cute. Dangerous. A little sexy.”

“So which is it? Cute or dangerous?”

He shrugs lazily, eyes locked on mine. “Depends on what you’re trying to find out. But trust me…” His voice lowers, more intimate now. “You don’t want to know half the shit I do in my life.”

I cross my arms. “If you don’t want to answer, just say that.”

“Oh, I don’t want to,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I also think if I tell you, you’ll start sleeping with a knife under your pillow.”

I pause, unsure if he’s joking.

“I already do,” I fib.

He laughs. Not a full one, just enough to acknowledge the barb.

“I’m not soft,” I add quietly.

His eyes sweep over me, and the smirk he gives is pure sin. “Oh, I know you’ve got claws,” he murmurs. “But you still pretend to be soft. That’s what fucks with me.”

He lets the silence stretch, then adds, voice low and almost tender, “Because it’s not the fight in you that scares me. It’s the way you hide it. The way you make people believe you’re harmless when you’re anything but.”

My breath catches as I recognize the look in his eyes.

“I should—” I stand abruptly, clearing my throat. “I should probably check if Marta needs me.”

He stands with me. I come up to his chest. As we head inside, I notice the atmosphere between us has changed. That usual playful energy is gone. There’s something more serious, more heated.

It’s confirmed when, the moment we step into the hallway leading to the kitchen, he pulls me into an empty room.

“Marco,” I gasp as he shuts the door before turning to face me. “What is this?”

His eyes darken. “This is me trying really fucking hard not to lose it every time I see you.”

He steps closer, and the space between us snaps tight. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Lia.”

“Marco—”

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he says. “Every time you look at me, I feel like I’m unraveling.”

“Don’t say that,” I manage to say, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest.

He’s so close now I can feel his breath fan across my lips. “I think about you constantly. More than I should. More than I ever have with anyone.”

He chuckles softly to himself.

“It’s almost hilarious because this has never happened to me before. Not like this. And it’s fucking me up. You’re in my head when I eat, when I sit in meetings, nodding along like I give a damn. When I try to sleep, all I see is you. All I can think about is how you looked the night they dragged you into this house. So scared and pissed off, but still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I hated it. Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to look away.”

“Marco, please?—”

But he barrels forward, like he has to get it out or he’ll combust.

“That’s why I left for two years, trying to forget you. Thought distance would kill whatever this is. Thought I’d forget your name, your face, the sound of your voice. But it didn’t help. It just made it worse.”

His voice drops to a rasp. “You’re in my blood, Lia. A fever I can’t sweat out. A drug I didn’t mean to take, but now I can’t go a day without craving. That’s why I look for you. Why I always find you. Why I need to talk to you, touch you, even if it’s just for a second. Because no matter how hard I try…”—his eyes burn into mine—“I’m incapable of staying away.”