Page 32 of Lord of the Dark (Drawn into Darkness #1)

"Then what did you bring?" I crossed my arms—no way was I backing down now.

"Something else." He mirrored me, arms folding.

God, for the second time tonight, I felt like I was stuck in a schoolyard standoff.

"And what’s that?" He was really starting to piss me off.

"What’s with the stupid act, Alessandro?"

"It’s a Ferrari, alright? A fucking Ferrari, and I’m sure as hell not hauling this asshole in it!" he snapped.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking kindergarden.

"Okay, did I ask you to do this—" I jabbed a hand toward Carter’s limp form, "—in the first place? No.

So you deal with the consequences of your brilliant idea!"

He rolled his eyes with an exasperated snort, pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"You still here? Come to lounge 7." He collapsed back onto the sofa with a loud exhale.

"You need to stop trying to be Miss Congeniality.

Pro tip: he doesn't deserve it."

"He's not one of your...

drug lords you can just eliminate.

What happens if we leave him here and he chokes on his own vomit? You gonna dissolve his body in acid later?"

He just shrugged indifferently.

"Would bother me less than scrubbing puke out of leather seats."

I closed my eyes.

The worst part was I believed every word.

Giovanni entered the lounge, his gaze darting between the four faces in varying states of consciousness scattered around the damned place.

"What the hell happened to this one?" He pointed at Carter before looking to me questioningly.

I crossed my arms.

"The maestro here has resorted to drugging people for the second time tonight to get his way."

Giovanni looked confused but turned to Alessandro, who remained utterly unperturbed on the couch.

"This idiot is testing my last fucking nerve.

But his girlfriend here still feels responsible and wants him safely returned to his hotel," Alessandro explained irritably.

"Who's his girlfriend?" Giovanni asked.

"She knows, Giovanni..." Alessandro made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Yeah, I know you're his trained attack dog who obediently sniffs wherever he points," I snapped at both of them.

"That's enough," Alessandro barked at me.

Giovanni adopted a wounded expression, shaking his head while staring at Alessandro.

"You'll know best whether it's smart to tell this woman everything." His gaze slid back to Carter.

"Though maybe you two deserve each other more than I thought."

Something about his tone suggested this was meant as an accusation.

His eyes bored into mine, and I felt my stomach clench.

"You two fuck upstairs while her boyfriend—" Giovanni started, but Alessandro cut him off sharply before he could finish.

"That’s none of your damn concern!" he snapped.

The usual calm around him had vanished, replaced by raw aggression in his gaze that even gave Giovanni pause.

"One more word about it, and I’ll silence you myself."

"Sorry, Boss.

So, where to? Usually, the bodies that fall under my jurisdiction are a lot... colder."

My breath hitched as the meaning of his words sank in.

My eyes flicked to Alessandro, but his expression didn’t change—as if Giovanni had just commented on the weather.

I swallowed hard.

"It’d be nice if he could make it back to the hotel... warm."

Giovanni flashed me a smile.

"I assume you already know the hotel and our room number..." I said, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, his lips twitching with faint amusement.

"Of course.

I’ll handle it.

Consider it done.

Want a goodnight photo of him to sleep better?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What?" I blinked at him, stunned.

"Who says I’m not sleeping at the hotel?"

His response was a filthy grin.

"You haven’t known each other that long, have you?"

Alessandro had his hands buried in his pockets, watching me with an innocent look so provocative it made my blood boil.

"You’ll have to get used to things not going your way.

You take me to the hotel when I say so," I stated, crossing my arms.

After a beat, I added, "Otherwise, I’m not coming at all."

A crooked grin spread across his face, followed by an unapologetic laugh that filled the room.

"Oh, baby, I love your defiance," he replied, straightening to his full height, his gaze pinning me in place.

"But you know what? I bet tonight, you’ll want anything but to go back to that hotel."

His words alone sent a sinful pulse straight between my thighs. Damn him.

When I entered the hotel room, Carter was already there, sprawled across the bed, snoring.

It was a strange moment—surreal—but I was relieved Giovanni had sent one of his men to drag him out of the lounge and bring him here.

He meant almost nothing to me now, but my conscience wouldn’t let me abandon him.

I had moved as quietly as possible while showering and changing, preparing to spend the rest of the night with Alessandro.

Now, I sat beside him in his Ferrari.

His hands gripped the steering wheel with reverence, as if the car were sacred.

He guided it steadily along the dark country road, headlights cutting through the pitch-black night, interrupted only occasionally by the silhouettes of ancient olive trees or the shadows of stone walls.

The evening’s events still played like a film in my mind as I turned slightly toward him and crossed my arms.

"So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going? Or are you planning to kidnap me?" I asked with a playful smile, though secretly, my patience was wearing thin.

He smirked, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to the road.

"Kidnap you? Why would I? You’re sitting here willingly," he countered with that signature mocking humor that both irritated and fascinated me.

"Besides, this car would make for a very conspicuous getaway vehicle."

I laughed softly, but my curiosity didn’t fade.

"Then what are we doing? Any hints? Or are you going to keep me in suspense all night?"

He shot me a sidelong glance, his eyes glinting in the dashboard lights.

"You’re really bad at patience, you know that? You’ll see soon enough.

Maybe you’ll even learn some self-control."

For a moment, I stayed silent, my gaze drifting over the car’s polished interior.

I rolled my eyes at the thought of how much this toy must mean to him and leaned back in the seat, still trying to make out something in the darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, Alessandro suddenly turned onto a narrow side road.

The asphalt gave way to crunching gravel, and the car jolted slightly over the uneven ground.

"How much farther?" I asked, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice.

"Not long," he replied tersely, making it clear further questions were pointless.

Twenty more minutes through a nearly unlit landscape, and we passed through a large wrought-iron gate that swung open as if by magic.

Alessandro guided the car up a gravel driveway lined with cypress trees until we finally stopped in front of a surprisingly small house.

A lantern in the courtyard cast warm light over the fa?ade, built from classic Tuscan stone.

It looked clean, well-kept—inviting, even—but it wasn’t what I’d expected.

Not with the flashy persona Alessandro usually projected.

He turned off the engine and faced me, his expression turning serious.

"I can’t wait to show you my home," he said, his voice uncharacteristically genuine for once.

I stared at him in disbelief, searching his face for any sign of irony.

"This is your home?" I finally asked, gesturing at the modest stone house.

"You’re joking, right?"

"What did you expect? A castle?" A smile flickered across his lips.

"You see this car you’re sitting in? It drained my entire budget.

I had to choose between it and a bigger house."

"Very funny," I muttered, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he stepped out and shut the door with a flourish.

Alessandro circled the car and opened my door with a theatrical gesture.

"Come on, Fiona.

You can’t sit here all night," he said with a grin that told me he was enjoying this game far too much.

Still hesitant, I stepped out of the car and followed him to the wooden front door.

He turned the heavy key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The house smelled of fresh wood and a hint of lavender.

Alessandro paused, stepped aside, and looked at me.

"Welcome home."

I lingered in the doorway, letting my gaze wander through the space.

The soft glow from the fireplace illuminated the stone walls, casting a warm, inviting light while dancing flames threw shadows across the floor.

It was cozy—almost unexpectedly simple.

No flashy opulence, just a tasteful haven of calm that immediately drew me in.

"So this is your home?" I asked again, skeptical whether he was actually serious.

Alessandro stayed where he was, grinning—that typical grin of his that revealed nothing yet hinted at everything.

It got under my skin every time.

"Don't play dumb," I said, annoyed, crossing my arms and eyeing him challengingly.

"I don’t care how big your house is.

Honestly? I like it here."

He kicked off his shoes and tossed the car keys onto a small dark-wood table.

Without a word, he strolled toward the compact kitchen at the far end of the room.

I heard drawers slide open and shut before his voice, casual as ever, called out: "It's my hunting lodge."

I blinked, unable to stop a disbelieving laugh from escaping.

"Your hunting lodge?" I leaned against the wall, tilting my head.

"What exactly do you hunt in Tuscany?"

He turned back to me, that sly, unreadable look in his eyes.

"Red deer and wild boar," he said with exaggerated seriousness.

"Aggressive, overbreeding bastards."

I burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room.

"Sounds almost like a description of you," I shot back, watching his grin widen.

Amused, he arched a brow before turning away again toward the kitchen counter.

"What do you want to drink?"

Lost in thought, I let my gaze roam the space once more.

It wasn’t large, but everything felt harmonious—the raw stone walls, the solid fireplace at the center casting its warm glow, the light furniture contrasting pleasantly with the earthy tones.

A small shelf of old books and a few minimalist decor pieces gave the room character without overwhelming it.

It felt like a retreat, quiet and peaceful, and I could feel myself relaxing more by the second.

I walked to the fireplace and sank onto the plush sofa in front of it, tucking my legs beneath me.

The firelight warmed my face, the soothing atmosphere wrapping around me like a blanket.

It was a feeling I couldn’t quite put into words, but in that moment, I felt lighter, more at ease than I ever had before.

"A Tuscan red," I finally said, still watching the flickering flames.

"But properly tempered. Otherwise, it’s ruined." I let the words hang deliberately, though I couldn’t suppress a smirk.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle softly.

"So you do remember," he said, and I could practically feel his gaze boring into me even though I wasn’t looking at him.

"It’s the little details that make the difference."

Alessandro returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses held loosely in one hand.

He dropped onto the sofa beside me, his movements so effortless that he seemed noticeably more relaxed than usual.

This moment, the atmosphere between us—it was something special.

I watched him closely as he took the bottle, inspected it briefly, then positioned the corkscrew with quiet, practiced ease.

His hands caught my attention—strong yet elegant, with long, slender fingers moving with such confidence. It was the first time I’d seen him do something so mundane in private, and I was fascinated.

He noticed my stare, raised a brow, and met my eyes, faint amusement playing on his lips.

"What?" he asked without pausing his motions.

?"Out of everything I imagined when you said you had something planned—this wasn’t it," I admitted.

He pulled the cork from the bottle and sniffed it, then held it out to me.

"Here, take a whiff."

I frowned and reluctantly took the cork.

"What’s the point of this?" I asked, eyeing it skeptically.

"To tell a bad wine from a good one," he said dryly, though his eyes glinted with amusement.

I gave the cork a tentative sniff before shrugging and handing it back.

He poured us each a glass and passed me mine before finally responding to my earlier remark.

"You know, Fiona," he began, his voice calm but laced with that trademark challenge, "I’d have thought you knew me well enough by now to assume I wouldn’t drag you on some generic tourist route.

Did you really think we’d—what were your words?—stroll through the gardens and get stuck in crowds of tourists?"

I brought the glass to my nose, letting the aromas settle before taking a careful sip.

"Good." The taste was impressive—smooth, full-bodied, perfectly balanced.

My gaze flicked to the bottle on the table beside him, and I caught the initials RV on the label.

I stared at it for a beat before tossing my head back with a half-amused, half-impressed scoff.

"Oh, for God’s sake," I said flatly, setting the bottle down as I met his eyes, "is there anything you don’t own?"

Alessandro leaned back, glass in hand, watching me with a faint smirk. "You."

For a moment, I forgot what I’d meant to say and just stared.

"Arrogant as ever." I shook my head slightly, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks.

"That’s not going to change."

He shrugged and took a sip before setting his glass down.

With a deep exhale, he sank into the couch, long legs stretched out lazily.

The firelight cast flickering shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his cheekbones and the subtle curve of his lips.

His arms spread in an open, inviting gesture—simple, yet it hit me like a wave.

He looked almost innocent—a stark contrast to the man usually brimming with control and ferocity.

His dark eyes held mine with a warmth that consumed me entirely, and the thought that this man—who carried so much darkness—was sitting here, giving me this moment, made my pulse quicken.

He was beautiful in a way that felt almost impossible to grasp.

"Come here," he finally murmured, his voice soft in that rare way he seldom showed.

Hesitantly, I shifted closer, letting myself melt against his chest as his arms folded gently around me.

His hand rested on my shoulder, holding me without restraint.

My head settled against him, eyes closing.

For that moment, nothing else existed—just the scent of wood, the soothing crackle of the fire, the enveloping warmth of his body.

His arms tightened around me, his chin resting briefly on my head before he drew a deep breath.

"I'm afraid," he murmured, his voice low and weighted.

The raw worry in his tone struck me like a blow, and my throat tightened.

Alessandro—who never showed fear—spoke those words with a vulnerability that left me shaken.

I shifted slightly, tilting my head to look up at him.

"Of what?" My voice was barely a whisper.

He buried his face in my hair, holding me so close I could feel his breath against my temple.

"That something will go wrong at this meeting," he admitted, the pain in his voice unmistakable.

"You and Carter—you're civilians.

You don’t belong in this kind of mess.

And if anything happens…" His words fractured, his grip turning almost desperate, as if he could shield me from the mere thought.

The genuine fear radiating from him, the weight he carried—it stole my breath.

"Alessandro," I finally whispered, covering his hand where it still rested protectively on my shoulder.

"We’ll handle it.

You’ll handle it."

He stayed silent, his hold loosening just slightly, but I could feel the gravity of this moment pressing on him.

This fierce, controlled man—who commanded every room, every situation—was letting me see him crack.

And it shattered me.

He kept me anchored against him, and gradually, the tension in his body ebbed.

His breathing steadied; his fingers traced idle, soothing patterns down my back, as if calming us both.

I lifted my head to study him.

Firelight softened his features, but the shadows in his eyes were unmistakable—the burden he carried, the fear he wasn’t hiding.

This was a side of Alessandro no one else would ever see.

Vulnerable. Human.

His arms cradled me like I might slip away.

I raised a hand to his cheek, fingertips brushing the rough stubble there.

His eyes—usually so guarded—searched mine, as if looking for an anchor.

Slowly, I closed the distance, letting my lips graze his before kissing him softly.

His breath hitched; his grip tightened like he wanted to fuse us together.

This kiss was different.

Not a battle, not raw hunger—just surrender.

Deep and tender, as if words had failed him. His hand slid to my neck, pulling me closer as our mouths met again and again, until the fire’s heat felt trivial compared to his touch. When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Fiona," he rasped.

"It’s like you’re saving me...

and destroying me all at once."

He wasn’t faring much better than I was, so I just grinned and whispered back, "Welcome to the club."

My hands skimmed his chest, mapping the strength beneath, and I shifted closer.

My body molded against his, and I felt his breath stutter.

Fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt, I pulled it off and tossed it aside.

His gaze tracked every movement—dark, intense—but his smile was uncharacteristically gentle.

I leaned in, slowly lifting his shirt to reveal the sculpted planes of his torso, gilded by firelight. Every muscle looked carved, unreal.

"You’re incredible," I breathed.

"So strong, so...

powerful.

And then you talk about being afraid to lose me.

It’s... strange. Beautiful. Seeing you like this."

Alessandro said nothing, just drew me against him again, his mouth finding mine.

This tenderness was new—not a game, not a provocation.

Just real.

He started to shift, as if instinct demanded control, but this time, I pressed a firm hand to his chest, stopping him.

His brow arched in surprise, but after a beat, he yielded with a smirk. "I think I like this side of you," he murmured, eyes locked on mine.

I felt closer to him than ever before, sensed the urge to show him, to show him that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me.

Gently, I let my lips glide over his neck, felt the slight quickening of his breath beneath my touch.

He ran his hand over my back, tender and warm.

As I wandered further downward, I felt the faint, barely perceptible trembling with which his body reacted to my caresses.

I softly kissed the line of his collarbone, continued downward over the curves of his chest, where the firelight made his skin look like liquid gold. Every touch of my lips upon his skin seemed to draw out a quiet moan, and it filled me with a deep satisfaction to know I had this control over him.

Slowly, my hands slid over his sides, tracing the hard contours of his muscles, which tensed beneath my touch.

For a moment, I paused, let my gaze drift over him—the strong lines of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, which looked as if chiseled.

It was nearly impossible not to be overwhelmed by his beauty, by the power he radiated, and yet by the tenderness he showed in this moment.

My hands wandered lower, found the waistband of his pants.

With a slow, deliberate glance, I lifted my head and met his eyes as my fingers undid the belt.

Desire burned in his gaze.

It felt as though I were the only person who had ever held such power over him.

Triumph surged through me, a sense of control, as I felt his body respond to every one of my movements. I unfastened the button, the zipper, and let the barrier between us fall. Hard and unyielding, his thick erection impatiently freed itself before I took it firmly in hand. I felt the heat, the hardness, that betrayed just how much he craved me.

"Fiona…" he murmured, his voice deep and rough, a silent plea.

But I gave him no time to think.

I took him into my mouth, slowly, deeply, and watched every flicker of expression on his face—the way his eyes closed, the way his breath quickened, the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch.

It was a moment of power, of surrender, of intimacy.

Perhaps our most intimate yet.

I watched as Alessandro gave himself over to pleasure, as every second tightened my control over him.

His head fell back against the sofa, and I could see him losing his grip on himself—this man, always so composed, always in command, now completely undone.

His fingers dug into the soft upholstery as I continued to lavish him with my mouth, with a devotion that made everything around us fade.

He lifted his hand, brushed it gently over my cheek before his fingers tangled in my hair.

"You’re driving me out of my mind, Fiona," he muttered, and the warmth in his voice seared through me like fire.

I felt his hips unconsciously matching my rhythm, how he fought to hold back and yet wanted—needed—more.

His entire body spoke of the desire overwhelming him, of the connection we shared in this moment.

I lifted my head briefly, let my lips glide along his shaft as I locked eyes with him.

The look on his face was intense, overwhelming—a mix of desire, surrender, and the knowledge that I held him in my grasp like no one else ever had.

He opened his eyes, and his gaze met mine.

Burning and fierce, with a trace of awe.

I straightened, my hands gliding softly over his chest without ever breaking eye contact.

With a quick flick, I undid the button of my pants, pushed them down along with my panties, and stepped out of them.

I felt his gaze as it roamed over my body, scorching and full of hunger, yet he remained still, leaving me in control.

Slowly, deliberately, I swung one leg over him until I straddled him, positioning myself.

I held his stare, my breath quickening as I lowered myself onto him, taking him deep inside. A soft, uncontrolled moan escaped my lips as his size filled me, stretched me, until every part of me could feel him.

His hands gripped my hips, held me firmly, his fingers pressing lightly into my skin as if to ensure I stayed exactly where I was.

His gaze never left mine, and the intensity of it stole my breath.

It was as if the world around us ceased to exist, as if there were only this moment, only us.

I began to move, slowly, carefully, my hands braced against his chest.

Every rise and fall sent waves of heat coursing through me.

His grip on my hips tightened, pulling me deeper, as if he wanted me to feel every second of this moment as intensely as he did.

"Fiona," he murmured, his voice rough, thick with emotion.

"You’re… incredible."

I paused for a moment, letting my body feel the connection building between us before slightly increasing my pace.

His breath grew heavier, his head fell back, yet his hands remained firm on my hips, guiding me, supporting me, as if he wanted to lead without taking control from me.

"Alessandro," I gasped, my body trembling under the intensity of the sensation binding us.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself as I took him deeper, more deliberately, letting waves of pleasure rush through me.

"You… are everything I want."

His gaze met mine, and in that moment, it was as if we stood completely exposed before each other—no masks, no walls, just us.

His hands pulled me even tighter against him, his body pressing deeper into mine.

Alessandro’s grip tightened, and his hips began moving in rhythm with mine.

A low, rough growl escaped his lips as his eyes remained locked on mine, as if there was nothing else in the world he wanted to see but me.

The intensity between us grew, every movement driving us both further. Greedily, I pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss, our tongues expressing all the passion we couldn’t put into words.

The motion between us became fiercer, our bodies finding a shared rhythm, and I could feel us both nearing the edge.

The connection between us was so strong, so all-consuming, that I could hardly believe this moment was real.

Everything about him—his body, his touch, the way he looked at me—made me forget there was anything else in the world.

"Fiona…" His voice was barely more than a ragged breath, his hands gripping me tighter, and I knew he was just as lost as I was.

With one final, deep thrust, I completely surrendered to the ecstasy that seized us, consumed us, until nothing remained but the feeling, the moment we had both given ourselves to.

As I slowly leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, I felt his heavy breath against my skin.

His arms wrapped tightly around me, and I could still feel the aftershocks of our passion lingering in the air.

"That…" I finally whispered, my breathing still uneven, "...was different."

He pulled me even closer, his chin resting on my head, and I heard the faint amusement in his voice as he replied: "You are everything I’ve ever needed." I am everything he’s ever needed.

The wave of happiness his words sent through me surpassed anything an orgasm could have given.

I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me completely.

His breath was warm against my forehead, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed me in a way I couldn’t put into words.

I nestled closer, letting my hands glide softly over his chest.

His arms held me tight, and I wished this night would never end. It was one of those rare moments when the world stood still, and there was only us. "I hope this moment never ends," I murmured quietly, without opening my eyes.

His arms pulled me just a little tighter, his breath brushing my forehead.

"Then let’s stop time," he whispered.

I lifted my head slightly, looking at him as a soft smile touched my lips.

"And what do we do tomorrow when time starts again?"

His gaze drifted to the flickering flames of the fireplace, and a mischievous glint entered his eyes.

"We could stay here.

Spend the day by the pool.

Or…"—his tone turned teasing—"I could show you how to hunt."

I arched a brow and gave a slight shake of my head.

"Hunting? Sure, because a gun is exactly what I need in your hands."

"Well, I’m taking a risk too.

After all, you’ve already shot me once."

"That was an accident."

"It was completely intentional," he claimed, his amusement unconcealed.

"And if you do it again next time, I at least want to make sure it’s quick and painless.

So let me teach you how to aim properly."

"I can shoot," I huffed, meeting his gaze defiantly.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes tracing my face, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Of course you can."

I shifted slightly, pulling the blanket from the sofa over us and letting it settle softly over our bodies.

The warmth of the fabric mingled with the heat of his skin, wrapping us in cozy comfort.

I felt his steady breath against my hair before finally lifting my head.

"Why don’t we actually go into the city?" I asked quietly, turning just enough to look at him.

"I’d really love to explore Florence with you."

His expression darkened, the ease of the moment giving way to deep contemplation.

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words, before finally answering.

"It’s not that simple, Fiona." His voice was calm but firm.

"These are the shadows of my life.

I can’t just walk into the city, stroll around like anyone else."

"Why?"

His eyes turned hard.

"Because the chances of me catching a bullet are too damn high."

The thought tightened like a noose around my throat.

A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest.

My heart clenched painfully as the reality of his words sank in.

"How… how do you live like that?" I asked, tightening my arm around his torso as if I could shield him from the world outside.

His hand stroked slow, soothing circles over my back.

"You get used to everything," he said finally, with a bitter resignation that shattered my heart.

I stayed silent, letting his words sink in as the crackling fire filled the quiet between us.

After a pause, he tilted his head toward me, his voice softening.

"I promise you, I’ll figure something out."

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for something—anything—to ease the weight of this.

But all I found was the unspoken truth: His life would never be simple, and yet, I was ready to stand beside him, not just in this moment but through all the darkness his world held.

I would stay at his side, no matter how deep the shadows.