Page 5

CHAPTER FOUR

Stefano

The Bentley purrs to a stop at the gate, and I catch the slight widening of Ava's eyes in the dim light.

My security team melts from the shadows—Matteo and Luca positioned at strategic points, weapons visible enough to make a statement.

Professional. Lethal. Exactly as I've trained them.

"Impressed?"

"More like searching for escape routes." Her honesty startles a laugh from me. Still my clever girl, always assessing, always planning.

"Old habits, huh?" I murmur as the gate swings open silently. Her body tenses slightly beside me as we pull into the circular drive, and I know she's counting cameras, marking defensive positions. The con artist's daughter, seeing the world through eyes trained for survival.

That thought makes the monster in me purr. Let her look. Let her see exactly what I've built, what I can offer her.

What I can use to keep her.

"You've done well for yourself." Her voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the slight tremor beneath her words. "The Stefano I knew would have hated all this."

"The Stefano you knew didn't understand power." I rest my hand on her thigh again, feeling the heat of her skin through the silk dress. "Now I know exactly how to use it."

Giovanni waits at the grand entrance, his weathered face lighting up with recognition. "Signorina D'Amato." He bows slightly. "It has been many years."

Ava's surprise is genuine. "Giovanni? You're still here?"

"The Rega family takes care of its own," he says with a warm smile and steps back slightly.

My hand reaches for her lower back as I guide her inside. The entry hall gleams, Italian marble and crystal chandeliers casting rainbows across the polished floor.

Ava moves through my domain with a subtle grace in her steps. She takes in all that I have to offer but I know it’s not the wealth that she finds interesting. Her eyes dart to the security cameras around us.

"Your father preferred a more...traditional style."

"My father preferred to rule through fear alone."

I step closer, caging her against the wall. Not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.

"I've learned there are more effective methods."

Her breath catches as I lean in, my lips brushing her ear.

"Like showing someone exactly what they could have. What they could be part of. What they're missing by running away."

"Is that what this tour is about?" There’s defiance in her voice. "Showing me what I've been missing?"

I trace one finger down her throat, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch. "No, tesoro . This is about showing you where you belong."

I pull away as the elevator opens silently next to us. Inside, the space feels charged. Ava stands perfectly still as we ascend, but I can see how her hands clench at her sides. Wanting to touch. Wanting to shove me away and run.

My penthouse suite takes up the entire top floor—a fortress disguised as luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, while subtle security measures ensure total privacy.

"Drink?" I move to the private bar, watching her reflection on the polished surface. She drapes her coat on the sofa and moves to the windows, drawn by the glittering skyline. The lights paint patterns across her skin, making her look otherworldly.

"You really have changed." She accepts the crystal tumbler, but her eyes never leave the view. "That wild boy is gone."

"Not gone." I step behind her, close enough that she must feel the heat of me against her back. "Just evolved. I’ve learned what it takes to keep what's mine."

She turns, and the look in her eyes makes my blood burn. "And is that what I am? Yours?"

"You always were." I take the glass from her hand, setting it aside. "You just didn't know it."

"Stefano..." My name on her lips is both a warning and an invitation.

And I've never been good at resisting either.

"Do you remember our last night in the garden?" I murmur, letting my lips brush her temple. Her perfume fills my lungs—exotic and expensive— but I miss the sweet vanilla scent that she wore back then. "You told me to run from you."

"I meant it." Her voice wavers as I trail one finger down her throat. "I still do."

"Liar." I catch her chin, tilting her face up to mine. "You wanted me to chase you. To prove I would keep my promise." I lean closer, drinking in the way her pupils dilate, how her breath catches. "And I did. For ten years, I searched. Now you're here, in my home, in my world."

"Stefano..."

"Say it again."

Instead, she kisses me.

The taste of her detonates something primal in me. One hand fists in her hair, while the other pulls her hard against me, claiming her. She matches my hunger with her own, nails scraping my skin as she arches into me.

"Beautiful," I growl against her mouth. "Dangerous." Each word is punctuated with a kiss that edges toward violence. "Mine."

She bites my lower lip in response, sharp enough to draw blood. The pain shoots straight to my groin, and I grunt, spinning her to press her against the cool glass. The city spreads out below us, watching us as I pin her wrists above her head with one hand.

"Still fighting me?" I drag my lips down her throat. "After all these years?"

"Always." But her head falls back, offering more of her throat. The submission in the gesture makes the monster in me growl with pleasure.

"Look at my city," I command, turning her to face the window. My chest presses against her back as I hold her there, one hand splayed possessively across her stomach.

"Everything you see down there belongs to me. The streets, the shadows, every deal, and every death." My teeth graze her ear. "And now you're back in my world."

"Your world." She laughs, but it catches on a gasp as I slide my hand higher. I roll my hips against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.

She starts to turn, but I hold her still, watching our reflection in the glass. The sight of her in my arms, trapped between my body and the window overlooking my domain, makes something dark roar to life in my chest.

"Do you know what I thought about all those years searching for you?” I murmur, my free hand skimming down her side. "I imagined every scenario. Every way I'd make you mine again." My fingers find the slit in her dress, tracing bare skin. "Every way I'd make sure you never left."

Her breath fogs the glass as she presses back against me. "And now?"

"Now?" I spin her to face me, lifting her easily. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively as I carry her toward the bedroom. "Now I will show you exactly what you've been running from."

"I wasn't running from you." Her voice shakes as I lay her on the silk sheets, my body covering hers.

"No?" I brace myself above her, drinking in how beautiful she looks spread across my bed. How right. "Then prove it. Stay still. Let me have you." I drag my teeth down her throat. "Let me own you."

Her only answer is to pull me down into a kiss that tastes like surrender. And sin.

" Ti ho cercato ovunque ," I growl against her mouth, switching to Italian as my control slips. I searched everywhere for you . " Sei mia. Solo mia ." You're mine. Only mine .

My hands move to her waist, gripping her hard enough to leave marks. She whimpers, a sound that sends a jolt of heat straight to my cock, and her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt.

I don’t stop her. I let her undress me, let her touch me, because every brush of her skin against mine is a reminder of what I’ve been missing.

Her nails scrape against my chest as she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, and I groan, my lips trailing down her throat.

She’s wearing a ridiculous little dress that’s way too easy to peel off, and I make quick work of it, yanking the straps down her arms until it pools at her feet. She’s naked now, standing in front of me, and I can’t help but stare.

Ten years. Ten fucking years. And she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Her body is a map I’ve memorized, right down to every curve, every dip, and every scar. My hands move over her, possessive, demanding, and she shivers under my touch.

“Stefano,” she whispers, her voice trembling. I pick her up and press her against the window in my bedroom, my mouth capturing hers again. “Someone could see,” she gasps, but her hands are pulling me closer, her nails digging into my back.

I laugh against her skin, my lips moving to her ear. “Let them. Let them all see who you belong to.”

Her breath hitches as my teeth graze her earlobe, and I feel her thighs squeeze together, the scent of her arousal already thick in the air. I slide my hand between her legs, my fingers brushing against her wetness, and she moans, her head falling back against the glass.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my voice rough, as I slip a finger inside her. She’s so tight, so warm, and I can’t stop myself from adding a second one, stretching her, feeling her clench around me.

“Stefano,” she gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails sinking into my skin. I love the way she says my name, like it’s the only word she knows.

“Tell me you missed me,” I demand, my lips moving to her collarbone.

“I—I missed you,” she stammers, her hips rocking against my hand. “God, I missed you.”

She’s panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as I pull back, my hands sliding down her body. Her skin is warm, flushed, and I can feel the tremble in her thighs as I kneel before her. I look up at her, hungry .

She says my name again, her hands gripping the edge of the window behind her for support.

“Open for me,” I command, my voice a growl that leaves no room for argument. Her breath hitches, but she obeys, her legs parting slowly, revealing the slick, glistening heat between her thighs.

I lean in, my breath hot against her skin. My lips trail up her thigh, slowly, deliberately, savoring the way her muscles tense under my touch.

When I reach the apex of her thighs, I pause, hovering just above her, teasing her, torturing her.

“Stefano, please,” she gasps, her hips arching toward me, desperate for contact.

I chuckle as she whimpers. “So eager,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her folds, and she moans, hips bucking. I grip her thighs, holding her still, and she cries out, her nails scratching at the surface behind her.

And then I dive in.

My tongue licks a slow, deliberate stripe up her slit, and she gasps. I savor the taste of her, the way she clenches around nothing, desperate for more. I lick her again, this time swirling my tongue around her clit, and she moans, her hips jerking against me.

“Stefano, please ,” she begs, her voice desperate. My tongue flicks over her clit in quick, firm strokes. She cries out, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

“You taste so fucking good.” My tongue delves into her, laving her with long, slow strokes, and then I pull back slightly, blowing cool air against her wet, sensitive skin.

“Stefano, please ,” she sobs again, her nails digging into my scalp, and I growl, my tongue returning to her clit, flicking it rapidly.

She cries out, her body arching, and I feel her tightening around my tongue, her orgasm building. I slide a finger into her, curling it against her inner walls, and she screams, her body shuddering as she comes hard, her juices spilling over my tongue.

I lick her through her orgasm, savoring her taste, her scent, her sounds. She’s panting, her body limp, but I’m not done. I pull back slightly, looking up at her—her gaze is hazy, her lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re not done yet.” I return to her, my tongue circling her clit, and she gasps, her hips jerking once more. I add a second finger, thrusting into her hard, and she cries out.

“Stefano, I can’t,” she gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders, but I ignore her, my tongue working her clit, my fingers thrusting into her. I can feel her tightening and I know she’s close again.

“Come for me,” I command and she obeys. I lick her through her orgasm but it’s not enough. I need more. I need to hear her scream my name, need to feel her come apart in my arms. I pull my fingers out of her, and she whimpers, her eyes pleading with me.

I get up, and fumble with my belt, my cock straining against my pants.

“Stefano, I need you,” she begs, her voice desperate.

I smirk, finally freeing myself from my clothes. As I press the tip of my cock against her entrance, she gasps, wrapping her legs around me.

“Tell me you’re mine,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

“I’m yours. Only yours.”

That’s all I need to hear. I thrust into her, hard and deep, and she screams, her nails raking down my back.

Fuck. She’s so tight, so warm, and I can’t stop myself from moving, my hips slamming into hers as I drive myself deeper and deeper. Her moans are music to my ears, her body trembling as I fuck her against the window.

“Tell me you love it,” I demand, my lips moving to her ear.

“God, Stefano, I love it.”

I can feel her clenching around me, her body tightening as she gets closer to the edge. I reach between us, my thumb brushing against her clit, and she cries out, her back arching off the glass.

“Now, tesoro .”

She obeys again, her body shaking as she falls apart in my arms.

Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her face is flushed, her lips parted as she gasps for air, and I can’t stop myself from kissing her, my lips capturing hers as I continue to move inside her.

It’s been ten years, but it feels like yesterday. She’s mine. Always has been. And this time, I’m never letting her go.

I grip her hips tighter, my pace quickening as I feel myself getting closer. Her moans are getting louder, her body writhing against mine, and I know she’s close again as well.

“Stefano,” she gasps as she falls apart again.

Fuck. It’s too much. I thrust into her one last time, my cock pulsing as I come inside her, my vision blurring as pleasure washes over me.

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of our breathing, our hearts pounding in sync. I press my forehead against hers, my lips brushing against hers. “ Sei mia. Solo mia ,” I whisper.

* * *

Moonlight spills across my bed, painting Ava's skin silver as she sleeps beside me.

I trace my fingers along her spine, memorizing every inch of her. She's changed in the years we were apart—new scars tell stories I don't know, new muscles speak of a life spent staying one step ahead. But underneath all that, she's still my Ava. She’s still the girl who has haunted my dreams for a decade.

She shifts in her sleep, curling closer to my warmth. This is how she should always be—safe in my bed, wrapped in silk sheets that cost more than most cars, guards posted at every entrance ensuring nothing can touch her.

"Stefano..." she murmurs in her sleep, and the sound of my name on her lips makes the monster in me purr. Even unconscious, she knows who she belongs to.

My hand stills on a thin scar beneath her ribs. It’s new, still pink at the edges. A knife wound, from the look of it.

Anger coils in my gut at the thought of someone hurting her. I make a mental note to have Tomasso dig deeper into the years she was missing.

Anyone who touched her will pay. Dearly.

The city glitters beyond my windows, but I see only her. The way her dark hair spills across my pillows, how her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.

She looks softer in sleep, more like the girl I knew. But I'm not fooled. My Ava has always hidden knives behind her smile.

That's what makes her perfect. She's not some innocent girl caught in my world. She was born to it, shaped by it, just like me.

The daughter of con artists, raised on secrets and lies. She knows the game and she plays it beautifully. She’s…

She's playing it right now as well, isn't she?

I'm not blind to the calculation behind her sudden appearance, the careful way she watches everything. She's here for a reason beyond dancing in my club.

The thought should anger me, should wake the ruthless boss who's built an empire by controlling every variable around him.

Instead, I find myself fascinated. Let her play her games. Let her think she's in control. In the end, it doesn't matter why she came.

She's not leaving.