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“Amara, wait.”

Santino grabbed my hand and twisted me around as I reached my dressing room. It had been years since a man had struck fear in my heart. But the worry sitting like a rock in my chest wasn’t because I thought he’d harm me. It was far worse.

He’d managed to break through my defenses. And against every blaring alarm, I trusted him. I trusted this man even though I’d been conditioned not to.

My gaze dropped to where he held me, and no other proof was needed because had he been anyone else, I’d have fought him off and attempted to end his life. Instead, I felt myself relax, and with a feigned huff of exasperation, I motioned for him to say his piece.

“Refuse.”

“No.”

He gritted his teeth. “Why?”

“Santino, I don’t have the luxury of declining. The rent is always due.”

It wasn’t a lie, but certainly not the whole truth. Being a contract assassin for Ares had its perks. But those days and that money was long gone. Revenge murder? Well, the pay sucked.

But this was about more than money. Andretti was scum, the kind right up my alley. The way he allied with Luca and how he looked at Santi…

Santi , I repeated in my thoughts.

I could extract information while he was vulnerable—or kill him. Both options were solutions in my eyes.

“I’ll give you whatever you need, preziosa .”

“I won’t accept your money.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not going. Not him. He’s a slimy son of a bitch who respects no one. And if he touches you…”

Santino sucked in a harsh breath and looked away from me, as if measuring his composure. I didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or…whatever this something else was that was tickling the pit of my stomach.

“That’s not how this works. And he can’t touch me. You know that.”

“Oh, I know he won’t.”

Santino pulled a blade from his pocket and started for the door.

“Where are you going with that?”

“To remove the temptation.”

I never thought I’d feel flutters at a man’s possessive tendencies, but I couldn’t deny Santino made me feel like I wanted to be claimed and taken care of.

Did I want that?

“Santi,” I called, knowing full well that would grab his attention.

He froze, stiffening slightly when I placed a hand on his back. “I’ve disemboweled a man. I can handle Andretti.”

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” Turning around, he gently tilted my chin and inched closer. “I saw the way he looked at you. And I don’t appreciate him thinking he can have what’s…”

Pausing to wet his lips, Santino broke eye contact and seemed to war with whether to finish that sentence.

“What?” I asked, silently pleading for him to meet my gaze again, to say what he’d meant. But he never did. And without another word, he slipped out the door. I hated that I’d upset him. But I hated even more that I cared and was now debating whether to accept just to appease my boss.

My cell buzzed against the vanity.

Fuck. It looked like I’d be shaking my ass for Andretti, after all.

Before my private, I went looking for Santino, hoping to smooth things over and explain my motives, but he wasn’t in his office. I couldn’t deny my disappointment when met with an empty room. We’d been teetering on the edge of something , dancing around each other…or maybe it was me doing the dancing in more ways than one. But what had I expected? It had been so long since I’d felt attracted to a man, especially after everything I’d been through. Even my time with Ezra was so short, and I was so young and naive.

Leaning against the door frame, I smoothed a hand around the black silk covering my scarred wrist. Santino had no idea of the hell I’d endured and how I’d barely clawed my way back.

What if I told him?

He won’t want you , a petulant voice reminded me. But the thought wasn’t just intrusive. It was realistic. I’d been tainted and ruined.

Over and over.

It didn’t matter that maybe I wanted him to tell me I was his. Not just for one night or a fun time.

But his.

I gripped at my heart as the realization I’d been denying myself barreled into me. I liked him. A lot. It was terrifying, exciting, and…sad. Because even though our worlds were similar, Santino and I couldn’t be farther apart.

I had nothing left for anyone. And that was just the way it would always be.

A tear broke away and wet my mask before I could swipe at it.

“Breathe,” I whispered. “Rein it in and get through another night.”

The elevator to the second floor seemed to ascend slower than usual, prolonging the inevitable. Blaise met my eyes when the doors split open, catching me off guard because the red rooms weren’t his usual posts. Santino had taken him and Ash on as private security. But I supposed it made sense, considering my boss was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d gone home for the night, discouraged by my decision. Or perhaps the reality of who and what I was had finally sunk in.

A stripper. Not exactly the kind of woman he’d bring home to his mother.

The large man offered a slow smile and reached for the door handle.

“You know what to do if there’s any trouble. I’ll be right outside this door,” he assured me.

I nodded and exhaled before the second mask fell into place—the one I used when I dipped into my own reality, where nothing and no one could hurt me .

Shadows bathed the room, red lights streaking from above, illuminating the darkness just enough. I followed the glowing scarlet trail until his expensive leather shoes came into view.

Italian, I was sure.

Italian.

My eyes rose up the length of the man’s long legs to a fitted white dress shirt tailored to perfection. The first three buttons had been undone, showcasing a muscled chest, inked with a canvas of interconnected tattoos.

Panic flushed hot up my neck when I thought I’d entered the wrong room until I recognized the face of the man staring back at me.

“Santino? W-what are you doing here?”

It was then I noticed his arms pinned behind him and the clinking of metal, suggesting he was cuffed or chained in place.

Again, my blood thrummed, and I scanned the room, my body shifting into a defensive stance. “Who did this to you?”

“You did,” he deadpanned.

My eyebrows knitted. “What are you talking about?”

“ Mi stai facendo impazzire ,” he said, tugging at his restraints. “You’re making me crazy.”

“That explains nothing.” I hugged my body, as if trying to keep myself in one piece. But I was slowly coming apart for him.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to drag you off that fucking stage.” His jaw tightened. “Those men—they don’t deserve you, Amara.”

Ruined. Tainted.

I sighed and shook my head. “And you think you do?”

A slight smirk ghosted over his face.

“No. But I’m a selfish man. And that’s why I’m here.”

My pulse was wild, beating like a drum.

“What do you want, Santino?” I asked, drawing closer, unable to resist the pull.

His chest rose and fell to the tune of his quickened breaths, and our eyes locked through the darkness.

“I want you to dance for me, preziosa . Only for me.”

Closing my eyes, I swallowed down the pangs of uncertainty and doubt.

“And why are you tied down?” My voice was breathy, hopeful.

“No touching the dancers. That’s the rule, right? But I don’t trust myself to be good. Not with you.”

I’d never felt so conflicted. A part of me wanted to run out that door because I knew there was no turning back from what would unfold between us. But another part wanted to live every sensation and every jolt of electric pleasure I’d felt this morning when I’d come undone with Santino’s face in my thoughts and his name on my lips, like I had nearly every day since that first night.

Stop thinking. Stop feeling , I told myself. Take what you want.

I snapped my eyes open, a grin tipping the edges of my mouth as I approached him. “You’re going to regret those.”

“I don’t doubt that. I’m already on the verge of chewing my own goddamn hands off to get to you.”

Fuck.

My breath hitched as heat roiled deep in my belly.

Music suddenly filled the space, and the lights danced to the soft rhythm flowing through me. My hips swayed of their own volition. I didn’t need to think or force myself to move because Santino was always the perfect motivation.

His hungry eyes stayed fixed on me, fleshy mouth slightly parted as I stalked forward. Every strike of my heel on the tiled floor mirrored the beats of my heart. Just a few more inches, and I’d close the gap between our bodies and open the door to a new phase in our relationship. But I was sure that whatever awaited on the other side of tonight would be worth the next thirty minutes.

“What did you do to Andretti?” I asked, hiking a leg over his thighs.

Santino groaned low in his throat as my pelvis slid over his belt, brushing the bulge in his pants. “No, don’t you ask me about that bastard. Not right now.”

I pitched close to his ear, and the urge to bite him forced me to swallow hard. “Why did you come here?” One hand snaked up the back of his neck, and another gliding over his cock had him cursing in Italian.

“You want to know why?” he asked, voice strained and his mouth coasting against my bare shoulder. The light caress had me suppressing a moan.

Wet and throbbing for a man was nearly foreign to me. But every dip against him sent me soaring and craving more friction.

Our eyes connected.

“Tell me,” I damn near begged, pussy firmly in his lap.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stretching forward, he pressed a kiss to the corner of my lips. “You’re mine, preziosa .”

“Yours?”

“From the day I laid eyes on you, I was fucking gone.”

Digging my nails into his nape, I suppressed a moan as pleasure rocketed from my core.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I half-whined when he thrust upward, meeting my hips.

“Wrong.”

“Santi…” I said on an exhale.

“Fuck, baby…Say that again.”

I closed my eyes as his breath fanned hot against my neck. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t. I fucking swear I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Amara. But I want it. Fuck, I want it so badly.”

The metal around his wrists rattled loudly as he fought to free himself, even though he knew it would be pointless.

“Sometimes,” I breathed, pushing off his lap, “we don’t know what we’re asking for.” Unable to withstand another second, afraid I’d come, I lifted off his lap. While the thought filled me with a surging rush of dread and anxiety, my body failed to receive the memo, and I instantly regretted the loss of his touch .

I turned and bent over, letting him indulge his eyes before dropping to a split and whipping my hair.

Again, he tugged on the cuffs.

“I’m not asking. I’m begging.”

Back arched off the floor, I slowly slid down the zipper to my suit. “Santino Leone, begging me?” I grinned, biting my lip.

“Would you like me on my knees, preziosa ?”

“And what would you do for me on your knees?” I freed my arms and trailed a languid finger between my breasts, drawing circles around the pink pasties covering my nipples.

“The things I wouldn’t do is a much shorter list.”

A shiver moved down my spine at the thought of this man no longer tied down to a chair but crawling over my body.

No.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart…look at you. That’s the prettiest fucking shade of red I’ve ever seen.”

Squeezing my eyelids closed, I purged those memories and sealed Athena back into that dark space in my mind.

“Amara,” he called with a softer tone, as if sensing something was off.

But I steeled my emotions and rose to my feet, sauntering behind him and sliding my hands along his arms where hard muscle matched the tension in his jaw. Santino tipped his head, following my movements, but I avoided eye contact and circled him again.

“What do you want from me?”

“Everything.”

“You don’t know me.” I shook my head slowly, unable to wrap my mind around his desperation.

“Let me in.”

God, did I want to.

Feeling bold, I slipped onto his lap again and looped my arms behind his neck.

He wouldn’t want you, the voice reminded me again, splintering my resolve.

“I can’t,” I whispered, sure he couldn’t have heard over the music, but I was wrong.

“Tell me.”

Our eyes locked at that moment, and I ground into him, feeling a spark light up my belly.

Again and again, I grazed over his hard cock, anguish and pleasure warring for dominance. But I needed this. I needed to give in and let go at the same time. It was on my terms.

For the first time, I was in control.

My nails sank into his skin, and I threw my head back.

“That’s it. Use me, preziosa . I’m yours.”

My heart staggered at his words because there has never been a man who cared about my pleasure over his own. Men only took and took until there was nothing left.

I hated that I viewed him differently, that he made me feel things I had no business feeling, but I couldn’t stop. Gaining control also meant losing it.

“Fuck…fuck,” I whined as I climbed higher, my movements faster and harder. He hissed when I clawed at his scalp, but my grip only intensified as I neared my breaking point.

“Come for me, Amara. Hurt me if you need to. Show me how beautiful you look when you let go.”

Santino’s voice was strained, as if he was fighting to hold on.

For me.

Let go.

I bit into his shoulder, muffling the cry hanging on my lips as I came. But there was still a part of me holding back, and maybe there always would be. I hadn’t realized when the music had died down or how tightly I gripped his shirt until I felt droplets rolling down the back of my fists. Tears dripped from my lashes as I blinked, and I stifled the shudder rippling through my chest.

“Amara, the key is in my breast pocket. ”

A softer, more level tone replaced the tension in his voice from merely minutes ago. But I couldn’t let him see me this way, weak and vulnerable. If I ran, I’d have time to escape before Blaise could free him.

I shifted my weight, ready to bolt. “Amara, don’t you dare run. Let me out of these cuffs.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Please.”