Page 19 of Intrigue (Dark Syndicate #4)

Alessandro

Five years ago.

The stars never change.

No matter how many nights we spend out here, sneaking past guards, slipping through dark corners, standing in the cold with our backs against the courtyard wall—there they are.

Unmoved. Indifferent. A map of burning constellations scattered across the sky, completely unaware of the way my world has been spinning off its fucking axis for years.

Because of her.

Selene Marconi.

As is our usual routine, she is lying on the old wooden bench, one arm resting over her forehead, the other loosely draped over her stomach, the thin silk of her summer dress pulling over her legs.

Her anklet catches the moonlight, winking at me like it knows my secrets, like it’s daring me to acknowledge what I’ve spent five years trying to ignore.

I want her.

I’ve always wanted her.

And God help me, I love her.

But I can’t bring myself to have her.

Not when she deserves something better than the stolen moments we’ve carved into the night. Not when the places we meet— grimy stairwells, abandoned staff rooms, starlit corners like this —are nowhere near good enough for more than what we do.

Not when I can still give her a way out.

She deserves a better man. A man who can give her love, not just a whispered promise between shadows.

And yet, I can’t stop asking to see her.

Can’t stop looking at her. Can’t stop feeling like she’s the only thing tethering me to something human when my hands are stained with the kind of work that makes me forget what kindness even looks like.

She hums beside me, shifting slightly, bare feet curling over the edge of the bench. “You’re staring.”

I exhale a quiet laugh, tipping my head back. “You say that like it’s a crime.”

She peeks at me from under her arm, a slow curve tugging at her lips. “It is. Haven’t you read the rule book?” Her voice drops, mockingly, “Alessandro Vescovi, trained soldier, future executioner, certified heartless bastard. No unnecessary distractions allowed.”

I roll my eyes. “Heartless? You wound me, little Marconi.”

“Please.” She sits up, stretching lazily, her dress slipping dangerously low at the shoulder. “You wouldn’t know emotions if they stabbed you in the chest.”

I let my eyes move downward, taking in the tease of bare skin, before dragging my eyes back to hers with an infuriating smirk. “And yet, somehow, I manage to endure.”

Something shines across her face, something deep and knowing, because she does know. Knows me better than anyone ever has. She shifts again, this time tucking her legs under her, watching me with those storm-gray eyes, those damn eyes that have owned me from the start.

Then she tilts her head like she is debating how much trouble she wants to cause tonight. “Here you are,” she echoes, softer now. “Why do you keep coming back, Sandro?”

Lie.

No doubt it’ll be easier to. To just smile and deflect like I always do, say something careless, pretend like she doesn’t make my blood run hot and my heart stumble in my chest like a fool learning to walk.

But I don’t.

“Because I don’t know how to stop.”

Selene stills. Just for a second. Then she shifts onto her knees, inching closer, her fingers ghosting over my jaw, her touch featherlight but enough to send my pulse into chaos. “Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

Fuck.

I catch her wrist before I can do something stupid, something irreversible. She lets me, lets my fingers wrap around her delicate bones, lets me pull her hand away even as she watches me like she’s daring me to break first.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I murmur.

Her lips press together. “I’m twenty-one now, Sandro. I know exactly what I’m saying.”

“Selene—”

“Don’t do that,” she cuts me off, firmly. “Don’t treat me like I’m some sheltered little thing who doesn’t know what she wants. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “This isn’t right.”

“No, what isn’t right is waiting for a future that doesn’t exist.” She presses forward, hands braced on my shoulders, her breath warm against my throat. “You keep saying you want to do things properly, that I deserve better, but Sandro, don’t you see? You’re the only thing I have ever wanted.”

My restraint snaps like a gunshot in the dark.

I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing the small sound she makes, my hands threading into her hair, tilting her head back so I can taste her fully, completely, the way I’ve been aching to for years.

She sighs against me, melting into my lap, her fingers fisting the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll pull away. I won’t. Not this time.

Until tonight, we’ve only gone past second base—just our hands wandering, breaths hitching, and her soft gasps driving me insane—but I’ve always stopped myself.

Not because I don’t want her. Fuck, she’s all I think about.

On the missions I carry out for the Don.

When my hands are stained red, when the weight of my choices drags me under, she’s the only thing that pulls me back.

But I don’t feel right taking her. She’s still a virgin, untouched, and she deserves better than a bastard like me. I refuse to be the man who takes that choice from her before she’s sure.

And then there’s the logistics. The places we steal these moments aren’t fit for her first time. I want it right for her, perfect, not some quick fuck against a wall. I want to give her something more than a rushed moment in the dim-lit corridors of a house filled with anger.

I’ve been saving up, every bloodstained paycheck tucked away with a single purpose—to take her somewhere better.

A weekend away, a resort with silk sheets where she won’t have to hide, where I can lay her out on soft sheets instead of against rough stone.

Where I can take my time, worship her like she deserves.

And the truth is, I just love being with her, learning her hates, her joys, the way her eyes spark when she teases me. But tonight…

Tonight, out here under the stars like we used to, it’s wrong. The Don would slit my throat for this, for her, but right now, I don’t give a damn. She’s here, and I’m done fighting it.

I lift her, pressing her against the old brick wall, my hands slipping beneath the soft silk of her dress, feeling the smooth, heated skin of her thighs.

I groan into her mouth when she hooks a leg around my waist, pulling me closer, dragging me deeper into the dark, into the place where I forget the consequences, forget the Don, forget everything but her.

Her heat presses against me, and I’m rock-hard, trembling with the need to claim her.

“Fuck, Selene,” I rasp, voice breaking, “you’re making me lose my mind.”

She doesn’t pull back, just digs her nails into my shoulders, daring me to take what I’ve denied myself for years.

“Tell me to stop,” I rasp against her jaw, my fingers digging into her hips. “Please, Selene, tell me to—”

“No.” She moans with a grind of her hips.

I curse under my breath as she pulls my hand higher, guiding me where she wants me, her breath shuddering when my fingers slide between her thighs.

“I’m done waiting, Sandro,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to mine. “Make me yours.”

God fucking help me.

I swear in my head, I swear to the stars above us, and I swear to the girl in my arms. I will do better for her. I will be more than the bloody fate carved out for me.

But tonight…

Tonight, I give in.