Page 25 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

I trembled at the memory of his hands and how gentle they’d been as he wrapped me in a towel, dried my hair, and dressed me. How his voice had softened, that hard edge vanishing.

But Vincenzo was a monster, wasn’t he? He’d executed a man without blinking, told me to heed it as a warning for what happened to those who crossed him. He controlled an empire of blood and drugs. He kept people in line with fear and violence. And yet, he’d been so gentle. So caring.

I spooned the gooey pasta into a bowl and sat at the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I stared into the cheesy mess, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling in my head.

Why did I care?

I couldn’t stop thinking about the callous look in his eyes when he’d told me to get out of his house.

He’d told me I wasn’t worth the trouble, but I didn’t believe it.

Not for a second. Not after his face had softened when he’d held me.

Not after he’d made sure I was safe. Not after he’d lingered at the door when I walked away, like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t form the words.

I ate absentmindedly, barely able to swallow past the knot of emotions clogging my throat.

Why did it matter what Vincenzo Moretti thought of me? Why did I keep replaying his words in my head, wondering if I’d misread him, if I’d done something wrong? He was dangerous, untouchable.

And yet…

I slammed the spoon down on the table, the noise too loud in the quiet apartment.

I did care. And I hated myself for it.

He could’ve let me drown. Could’ve walked away, left me in the tub, left me to rot like he did so many others. But he hadn’t.

And I didn’t know why.

With Roberto, things were simple. I knew what he was…what he wanted from me. He wanted me to do his dirty work, pull off jobs that benefited him, and keep my mouth shut while I did it. He didn’t care about me as a person. Not really.

But Vincenzo? I didn’t know what he wanted. I didn’t understand what his endgame was. Why save me? Why care? Was I just another tool to him, another pawn to be moved around on the chessboard of his empire?

I pushed the bowl away. The food wasn’t giving me the comfort I needed, and the few bites I had taken sat heavy in my stomach.

Vincenzo was a monster, but he was also the first person to ever make me feel like I was worth saving.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

I retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I needed to be alone, away from everything and everyone. Away from Vivian’s concerned eyes and Will’s protective hovering. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain the twisted mess in my head.

I wanted to shut it all out.

I collapsed on my bed, sinking into the worn-out mattress. Grabbing the remote from my nightstand, I turned the old TV in the corner on, but the fuzzy images did nothing to distract me.

Get your mind off him. Just focus on something else.

But no matter what played on the screen, my thoughts kept drifting. Drifting back to him .

Vincenzo.

I groaned in frustration. That damn vampire was infuriating.

Controlling. Dangerous. A fucking prick who seemed to enjoy making my life a living hell.

His eyes, that deep, predatory gaze, seemed to pierce through every wall I’d ever built.

I could still feel his hands on my skin, his fingers moving through my hair.

I could still see the concern and the fear in his eyes when he’d pulled me out of the tub.

And why the fuck did he have to be so gorgeous with his jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, and those tailored suits that hugged him in all the right places. Unlike Dorian, I’d never seen him without a shirt, but I was willing to bet he was fucking ripped.

Gods.

My stomach dipped as I remembered that look in his eyes, the hunger beneath the surface.

His body so close to mine when he’d pinned me against the wall, his hard cock pressing into my stomach as his fingers swiped between my folds, sending shockwaves through my body.

The scent of him, so raw, and fucking powerful.

And he’d tasted me. He’d moaned when he sucked my arousal off his fingers. He’d fucking moaned.

My fingers drifted downward, slipping beneath the waistband of my pants as I let the thought of him consume me.

It wasn’t just his power or his authority. It was the way he’d made me feel alive in a way no one ever had. He looked at me like he saw me. My breath hitched as I imagined him closer, his lips on my neck, his hands on my hips, pulling me closer, harder.

And then... it wasn’t just Vincenzo.

Dorian’s smile flashed in my mind, that cocky grin, those teasing eyes.

He was the complete opposite of Vincenzo.

Playful, lighthearted, flirtatious, but underneath it was something deeper, something dangerous.

He’d cooked for me, cared for me in his own way, even when I didn’t deserve it.

Hell, he’d made me laugh when I really wanted to scream.

And, holy fuck, his body. Muscles upon muscles, rock-hard abs, and a wonderfully tight ass.

And then... Luca.

Silent. Brooding. Those shadows of his that had traced dark promises over my skin. The first time he’d grinned at me because he’d known exactly what he was doing to me. Luca was an enigma, cold and aloof but capable of stirring something in me that I couldn’t quite understand.

My fingers moved faster over my clit, my breaths coming quicker as I imagined all three of them—Vincenzo, Dorian, and Luca—pressed against me.

Their hands roamed my body, their lips drifted across my skin.

The heat of their touch, the intensity of their gazes …

it made me feel so fucking alive. So wanted in a fucked-up, twisted sort of way.

A soft moan escaped my lips, the pleasure building inside me as I imagined the three men who had turned my life upside down in the span of a few short days. The ones I hated, the ones I craved.

My hips bucked against my hand. And then... sweet, glorious release. The orgasm was so intense that my vision went dark for a split second.

I lay there, panting, chest heaving, my body spent, but my mind still racing. Usually, an orgasm would clear my mind, but it left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Deep down, I knew. They were all in my head now. And there was no escaping.

Not from Vincenzo. Not from Dorian. Not from Luca.

And definitely not from the feelings they’d awakened in me.

I made my way down Market Street, the early morning light casting a hazy glow over the city. Newark was alive with its usual chaos. Buses rumbled by, and the aroma of fresh bagels mingled with the unmistakable tang of hot asphalt.

Tucked away on a quiet corner sat an unassuming diner with a neon sign that buzzed faintly even in daylight: Marta’s.

It wasn’t much to look at with its chipped paint and outdated décor, but it smelled like heaven—coffee, grease, and powdered sugar.

No magic, no monsters. Just the familiar, messy beauty of the human world.

I pushed through the door, and a bell jingled overhead. Marta herself, a no-nonsense woman in her sixties with sharp eyes and a soft heart, glanced up from the counter.

“Celeste,” she greeted, her voice warm despite her usual gruffness. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You look like hell.”

“Thanks, Marta.” I smirked as I slid onto one of the cracked vinyl stools. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

She snorted and set a cup of coffee in front of me. “What’ll it be? The usual?”

“Yes, please.” I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and brought it to my lips. The first sip was pure bliss. The bitterness was exactly what I needed to shake off the lingering unease of The Below.

I glanced around the diner. It was a mishmash of locals—an older man in a Yankees cap reading the paper, a mother trying to wrangle two kids into eating their pancakes, and a few cops grabbing a quick bite before their shifts. It was all so normal. And that was why I kept coming back.

In The Below, every move was calculated, every interaction laced with ulterior motives. Here, people were just trying to get through their day.

Marta set a plate in front of me—a stack of golden-brown waffles smothered in butter and syrup, with a side of crispy bacon—and I practically drooled at the sight.

“Eat up, kid.” She gave my shoulder a light pat before bustling off to take another order.

I took a bite. The sweetness melted on my tongue, and for a moment, I let myself just be . No Roberto breathing down my neck, no missions, no monsters waiting to pounce. Just waffles, coffee, and the hum of a city waking up.

Gods, it felt good to be home.

Even if my mind kept wandering back to the men who now haunted my dreams.