Page 36

“The fact you slapped him and you’re still breathing means one thing…” I say, quieter, darker. “You’ve got his attention now. And he doesn’t lose interest easily.”

Her mouth parts, but nothing comes out.

The silence between us turns suffocating.

Then she steps forward, eyes wide, voice trembling. “I... I didn’t know. When he requested me to serve him personally, I thought…”

“You thought what? That you serve drinks better than any other girl at that place?” I rake a blood-slick hand through my hair, the sting grounding me. “He’s got you fucking marked, Jordyn. If not for himself, then for the highest bidder.”

Her breath hitches. “How was I supposed to know that, Ares?”

“You weren’t.” My voice sharpens, firmer now. “You were supposed to listen when I warned you. But you chose to chase your independence for a couple thousand euros, and now you’re a fucking target.”

The words slice through the air like a blade.

She flinches. Just barely. But I see it.

See the way her shoulders stiffen. See the way guilt floods her expression. See the way she opens her mouth to fire back, but nothing comes.

And fuck, I hate the way it makes me feel.

Because I didn’t say it to hurt her.

I said it because it’s true .

Because she doesn’t understand the kind of world she’s just invited herself into. Because I’ve killed for less than the way Nicolai looked at her.

Jordyn looks at my bleeding knuckles, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re bleeding.”

I stay quiet.

I just look at her and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to protect her from all of this…When she keeps acting reckless and running straight into the fire.

I feel her shift as she takes a step toward me and I just watch her, inching closer, and closer until we’re practically toe to toe. “Why is everyone so terrified of you?”

Her eyes fall to my hand again, split open and still bleeding.

She steps closer.

No hesitation now. No recoil. Just something softer.

Her slender fingers reach for mine again, hesitant this time. She lifts my hand with careful precision, like she’s afraid to hurt me even when I’m the one who’s made a life out of hurting others. Her touch is featherlight, tracing the jagged red lines with something that feels too much like mercy.

I don’t move.

I can’t move. I feel like I’m rooted to my spot.

And when her fingers begin to drift higher, skimming up the inside of my forearm, I swear I forget to breathe.

“I saw Nicolai’s face when you walked in,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Rocco’s too. They didn’t just look scared.

There was a raw, primal fear etched into their features, as if they were staring down the very embodiment of terror itself.

What is it about you Ares Russo that makes even the most hardened of men shrink back, as if they’re in the presence of the devil himself?

” I look at her...really look. She’s close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in her blue eyes, the way her lashes tremble with every blink, the pulse fluttering in her throat.

“Because they are, Jordyn.” I admit. “They’re scared because they’ve seen what I leave behind,” I say, my voice low, hoarse. “Because they’ve heard the stories and know every one of them is true.”

She doesn’t move.

“They’re scared because I don’t hesitate. I don’t bluff. I don’t threaten, I act .” I pause, letting the weight of it settle between us. “Because I’m not a warning, Jordyn. I’m a consequence.”

Her breath stutters.

“It’s not what I might do that terrifies them,” I whisper, “It’s knowing I’ve already chosen who won’t walk out.”

“I’m not,” she says, softer now, barely audible. “Scared of you.”

I stare at her, breath caught in my throat.

“You should be,” I rasp, my voice rough with everything I’m trying not to feel.

“Why?”

“You saw what I did tonight,” I say, low and hoarse. “And that... that was me holding back. That was control.”

Her quivering breath stirs the space between us.

“You don’t want to see what I become when something I care about is threatened.”

Her hands slide up my chest to my neck, palms splaying over the muscle like she’s trying to feel the chaos burning beneath my skin. Her touch isn’t tentative anymore, it’s reverent, grounding. Like she’s trying to memorise me.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been touched like this. Not like I’m something worth touching.

And then she lifts her face to mine.

So close her lips brush the corner of my mouth when she speaks.

“Is that what I am?” she whispers. “Something you care about?”

I don’t answer.

I don’t have to.

She sees it. Feels it.

Her hand finds its way back to my chest, palm flat over my heart like she can feel storm there and is trying to calm it. I’m not sure if she knows she’s touching me, or if it’s just instinct.

Her other hand rises slowly to my jaw, fingertips brushing the edge of my beard. I go still. So still it feels like the whole damn world has paused for her.

I suck in a sharp breath. My hands twitch at my sides, aching to grab her, anchor her, claim her.

She presses in, closer than we’ve ever been. Her chest against mine. Her breath mixing with mine. Her lips, barely, barely , ghosting over mine in the space between us.

Her hands slide up to my shoulders, then back to the back of my neck, her fingertips threading through my hair. She’s coaxing me to close the distance. Daring me to give in and kiss her.

But I can’t.

I pull back, just enough to meet her eyes.

“Jordyn,” I whisper, broken.

She searches my face. “Why are you fighting this?” Her voice is barely audible, a heartbeat of sound between us.

“You want this,” she says. “I can feel it. You want me.”

“Wanting and being worthy are two very different things, Jordyn,” I choke. “A man like me could never be worthy of a girl like you.”

Her brows pull in, lips parting to speak but I don’t give her the chance. “I’ll ruin you. The darkness in me will taint you, bambina,” I say, voice low, fractured. “It’ll consume you, bleed out every bit of good you have in you.”

Her hands slide down to my chest again, her palms flat over my heart.

“Meriti di essere amata nella luce, non posseduta nell'ombra, bambina.”

You deserve to be worshipped in the light, not possessed in the shadows, bambina.

Her palms are still pressed to my chest, her touch burning through every wall I’ve built. She looks up at me with a kind of trust I don’t know how to hold, like she’s placing something sacred in my hands and hoping I won’t break it.

“Then let me be your light, Ares.” she whispers, her nose brushing over mine. “Even if it’s for this moment only.”

My throat tightens. I’m shaking and I know she can feel it.

She steps closer, if that’s even possible, her body now flush against mine. We’re breathing each other in.

Her fingers slide to my jaw again, her thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth.

I don’t breathe. I don’t blink. I just stand there and let her touch me . Let her see the parts I’ve never let anyone near.

“Touch me, Ares,” she whispers again, softer this time. “Let me feel what it’s like... to be wanted by you.”

Her words gut me.

Because she has no idea how long I’ve wanted her. How many nights I’ve imagined what it would feel like to have her like this, soft and sure and looking at me like I’m not a monster.

My hand lifts, still shaking, until it finds her waist. I curl my fingers there like she’s something fragile, something sacred, because fuck me she is.

Jordyn leans into the touch like she’s been waiting for it her whole life.

“I’ll ruin you, bambina.” I whisper, voice raw.

“No,” she breathes, eyes locked on mine. “You’ll remember what it feels like to feel .”

I press my forehead to hers, eyes closed, chest tight.

Her lips hover over mine, close enough that I can taste the quiver in her breath.

“Jordyn,” I whisper, my voice barely holding. “I only possess so much self-control. Especially when it comes to you. So if you don’t want me to kiss you right now… pull away.”

She doesn’t.

She stays right there, lips parted, trembling, so fucking brave.

“Kiss me,” she breathes.

And I almost do. Until I remember her conversation with Bianca. This is not how she envisaged her first kiss to be. “Bambina, no...” I whisper back, wincing. “Not like this...”

“Baciami, Ares.” She whimpers, curling her fingers at my nape.

“Per favore.” Fuck. I feel her plea like a blow to the chest. My jaw tenses, and my arms snake around her waist. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she admits timidly.

“I’ve waited for the right moment… the right person.

And it’s you, Ares. I want it to be you.

God, I feel like I might die right now if you don’t kiss me. ”

A sound escapes me, something raw and broken, somewhere between a groan and a prayer.

And then I give in.

I kiss her

Not like a man taking what he wants. But like a man tasting something holy for the first, and maybe only, time in his life.