Page 124 of Brutal Heir

“Why not? I’m bored,” I whisper, a husky edge to my tone. Then I drop to my knees before I can think better of it. Matteo might be just down the hall in the kitchen, but he knows better than to come back in. Since he gave us this time together, it almost seems like a waste not to take advantage of it.

Alessandro’s breath hitches.

“Rory…” His voice is a warning and a plea all at once.

But I look up at him with every ounce of stubborn fire I’ve got left. “Let me do this.”

His jaw clenches, muscles tight with restraint, eyes burning like he’s already losing the war with himself.

“I owe you,” I whisper. “For everything. For the way you protect me, believe me… love me.”

His hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just there, trembling slightly. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is payment.” His eyes pierce into me, feral but vulnerable. “You don’t owe me your body, Red. Not now. Not ever. You’ve already given me your heart and that’s more than enough.”

“I know,” I whisper, pulse pounding in my throat. “It’s not about owing you. It’s about needing this. Needing you. Right now, I can’t stop thinking about everything out there—Conall, the bounty, the blood—and I just…” My breath shakes. “I just want to focus on something that feels good. Something that’s mine.”

His whole body goes still, then slowly, he sinks to his knees in front of me.

“You want something that’s yours?” His forehead brushes mine again, breath shallow, voice thick. “Then take it.”

I nod, lips parting, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it upward. I take him in for a long moment, the sharp juxtaposition of ravaged, scarred skin on the right and utter perfection on the left.

This isn’t just a distraction. It’s a reclamation.

Of each other. Of now. Of the only thing we still control.

I’m not just trying to repay him. I’m trying to survive. With him.

And I’ll take every second he gives me.

CHAPTER 48

ONE OF A KIND

Alessandro

The air inside my father’s office is sharper than usual. Clean. Cold. Deceptively calm. Or maybe it’s just the icy anxiety coursing through my veins at the thought of leaving Rory for even a few hours. And despite the troop of guards I left at the penthouse to protect her.

Papàsits behind his polished desk, a crystal tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. His tailored suit is unwrinkled, his gaze razor-sharp beneath silver-streaked hair. He looks every bit the man who built the Gemini empire from the ground up.

Too bad I’m about to drop a bomb on him.

Hell, it kind of surprised me too when I came up with the idea. But nothing has ever felt so right…

He glances up when I enter, brow lifting like he already knows something’s coming.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” he mumbles around a sip. “Everything back to normal at the Velvet Vault?”

“I’m not here about business.”

His expression flattens, the tumbler settling on the desk with a soft clink. “What is it?”

I don’t sit. I plant myself in front of him and meet his stare head-on. “I’m marrying Rory.”

Silence. Thick and heavy.