Elena's hands trembled as she stared at the damning documents.
Her father.
A traitor.
Her entire life a lie.
Her breath hitched, her mind spiraling.
This can't be real.
But the proof was right in front of her.
And behind her—Alessio.
She felt his presence like a storm closing in, his heat pressing against her back, his scent wrapping around her like chains.
And then—his hands.
Slow. Deliberate. Unyielding.
One settled on her hip, firm and possessive, as if claiming his prize.
The other brushed her neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin there—not quite gentle, not quite cruel.
A warning.
A promise.
Elena's breath shuddered.
She snapped the file shut and whirled around, heart hammering against her ribs.
"This isn't my fault." Her voice shook, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "I didn't know anything about this."
Alessio didn't blink.
"I know."
Her stomach dropped.
"You know?" she echoed.
His fingers curled around her waist, pulling her just a breath closer.
"Si, piccola," he murmured. "I know you're innocent."
The words should have been a relief.
They weren't.
Because his grip didn't loosen.
Because his eyes were still dark, still sharp, still hungry.
Because if he knew she was innocent…
Then why was he still holding onto her like this?
Elena swallowed hard. "Then let me go."
Alessio exhaled softly, almost amused.
And then—his grip tightened.
Her pulse spiked.
"You think it's that simple?" he mused.
Elena stiffened. "It should be."
His fingers dug in just enough to make her gasp.
"But it's not."
Her stomach twisted.
"Why?" she demanded. "If you know I have nothing to do with this, then why are you still keeping me here?"
Alessio's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable.
Then—he moved.
Too fast.
One second, he was standing there.
The next—she was trapped.
Her back hit the desk, Alessio's body pressing flush against hers, his hands bracing on either side of her.
The file between them tumbled to the floor.
Elena gasped, her chest heaving as she tried—and failed—to shrink away from his heat.
But there was nowhere to go.
Nowhere to hide.
Alessio dipped his head, his lips just a whisper away from her ear.
"Because, Elena…" His voice was dark silk, smooth and deadly.
"You're more important than you know."
Her breath hitched.
A sharp, terrifying chill ran through her.
"What—what does that mean?" she stammered.
Alessio didn't answer.
Instead—his lips brushed down her throat.
Slow.
Purposeful.
Elena froze.
Heat flared beneath her skin, tangled with fear and something dangerously close to desire.
She hated it.
Hated him.
And yet—
She barely managed to bite back the shiver threatening to wreck her.
Alessio must have noticed.
Because when he pulled back, his silver eyes gleamed with something darkly satisfied.
"I could let you go," he murmured.
Elena's breath caught.
Her heart leapt.
Hope flickered.
But then—his fingers curled around her throat.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to remind her who was in control.
Her stomach plummeted.
Alessio's grip tightened—just for a second—before he finally released her.
Then—he stepped back.
Cool air rushed between them, but the damage was already done.
Her skin still burned.
Her pulse still pounded.
And her freedom was still a lie.
Alessio grabbed the file from the floor, flipping through the pages like he hadn't just caged her like a captive animal.
Like he hadn't just stolen the air from her lungs.
And then—
"You're staying here," he said simply.
Elena stilled.
No.
No, no, no.
Her chest tightened.
"What?"
Alessio didn't look up.
"This penthouse. My protection. My rules." He snapped the file shut. "Until I say otherwise, you belong to me."
Elena's nails dug into her palms.
"You can't do this."
Alessio finally met her gaze.
His expression?
Unmoved.
"I already have."
She trembled.
Helpless. Furious. Terrified.
But worst of all…
Not entirely as disgusted as she should be.
Because beneath the fear, beneath the anger, beneath the overwhelming panic of realizing she wasn't walking away from this…
A traitorous, shameful part of her wondered—
What it would be like to be his.
For real.