8. Vincenzo
VINCENZO
I pour another half glass of wine and carry it with me down the hall, feet silent on the hardwood.
I think about the man I’ve become in the years I’ve worked this life—how easily I follow people, get into their homes, learn their habits, and justify all of it as protection.
Alessia isn’t stupid. She knew I wasn’t just checking on her, but she let me in anyway.
Not because she trusted me, but because she calculated the risk and made peace with it.
That says more about her than it does about me.
I open the linen closet and grab a pillow, then the folded throw blanket from the top shelf. It still smells faintly like her laundry detergent she uses which I smell on her every time I've been near her. I barely register the thought before I shake it off and close the door.
Then she screams.
The wine slips from my hand and hits the floor, the glass bouncing once before rolling under the radiator. I draw my weapon and run. Her bedroom door is cracked, and I don’t bother knocking. I shove it open, gun up, and race in.
Alessia's halfway undressed—bra, panties, nothing else—and she spins around in shock, eyes wild. Steam is curling from the adjoining bathroom, the light behind her backlit like a halo I have no business seeing.
"Jesus, Vinny!" she shouts, backing against the dresser. "What the hell are you doing with your gun?" Her eyes flick to the weapon, then back to me, her chest rising and falling like she’s ready to throw something at my head.
"You screamed," I growl, but I don’t lower the weapon until I’m sure we’re alone in the room and whatever threat was there is gone. I scan the room, then the window.
The pane is cracked. Not shattered, but fractured at the base, just along the latch where someone tried to force it. I walk past her and lean in to inspect it. The lock is bent. Tools were used recently. Whoever tried this knew what they were doing, but they look out of practice.
She grabs her robe from the bed and yanks it on, glaring at me. "You think busting into my bedroom while I’m half-naked is going to help?" She tugs her robe tighter around herself and shoots me a look that could cut glass.
I holster the gun but don’t step back. "Whoever tried this wasn’t guessing.
They wanted in." I run my fingers along the bent metal, checking for fresh marks, trying to keep my focus off the way she’s glaring at me in nothing but a robe.
It makes my pulse tick up a few notches and my body is responding to the bits of bare skin that are still exposed.
All I can think about is watching her undress and climb into bed on that monitor the other day.
"Right," she snaps. "Or you staged it. Another scare tactic to get me to keep my mouth shut." She crosses her arms, eyes locked on mine with sharp suspicion.
I meet her glare head-on. "If I wanted you silent, you'd be gone before anyone noticed." I don’t raise my voice, but the air shifts slightly between us.
The room crackles with tension, and heat, the proximity. Her robe slips slightly from one shoulder. She doesn’t fix it. I let my eyes indulge for a moment before wresting them away to catch her glare.
"Is that what this is? You're inept at getting a woman so you stalk me? Did my father even send you?" Alessia moves around the foot of her bed and toward the door to the bathroom, and I watch her.
"Think what you want, but I'm here to help." And apparently, I'm here to get a very hard cock that will be very upset when it learns she wants nothing to do with me. She's furious as she walks into her bathroom, and I hear the water shut off.
I busy myself by inspecting the window again, which will have to be fixed or she won't be safe here. I may need to up the security too or we'll have a mess on our hands. If Emilio thinks it's bad now, wait until someone kills Gordo's daughter.
Alessia walks back into the room huffing and sighing in an overly dramatic fashion. It's like she is looking for a reason to be angry and blow off steam but she doesn't know how to be angry or take it out on me personally.
She crosses her arms. "Vinny. Seriously?" She plants a hand on her hip, the edge in her voice clashing with the curve of her mouth like she’s trying not to smile.
I arch a brow. "What?" I lift one brow, more amused than offended.
"Vinny is a stupid name." She says it flatly, but I can tell she’s baiting me.
That gets a laugh out of me. "My friends call me Enzo," I say casually, but I watch her face for a reaction anyway. It's definitely my invitation to her, but she is still being snippy.
"You don’t have friends." She steps closer, and the fire in her voice feels less like an insult, more like a challenge.
"You don't think so?" I shrug and shift my stance slightly, feeling the floor under my boots like I’m about to step into something I can’t walk back from. And maybe I want to. Everything about this situation is a giant red flag, and I'm barreling toward the cliff with no parachute.
She steps closer, now with both hands on her hips, and lifts one eyebrow at me. "You're the most infuriating man I've ever met," she snaps.
"You should get out more," I shoot back, crossing my arms just to keep from reaching for her.
"You're smug, you're evasive, and you're watching me like you're doing me a favor just by being here." Her nostrils flare, and I think it's cute.
"I'm here because someone tried to break in," I say. "Forgive me for not smiling about it."
"Forgive me for not wanting to be babysat by a guy with a superiority complex." Her eyes roll, and I snort in laughter.
"I never once said I was better than you, woman…" Her accusation pricks my ego, but I try to laugh it off. She wants to rile me for some reason, and it's beginning to work as she steps closer. Just not the way she thinks it is.
"You don’t have to. You walk around like you're God's gift to women." Alessia's hand waves in the air, almost hitting me, and I catch her wrist and grip it hard, holding her gaze.
"You walk around like you're invincible, but you're walking on glass floors." My grip is tight but not enough to even leave a mark, and she twists her wrist to get free.
She laughs—short, sharp, annoyed. "You know what, Vinny?—"
"Enzo," I say quietly.
She opens her mouth to argue again, but it doesn’t happen. Her breath catches. Her hand is halfway raised like she’s going to smack my face. Instead, she grabs my collar and pulls me in. Her mouth crashes into mine before either of us can say another word.
I let go of her wrist and grab her by the waist, pulling her flush to me as her hands fist in the collar of my shirt. She tastes like wine, but the intoxicating part is how her tongue traces the line of my lip while I crush her to my body and grind my hard dick into her belly.
She breaks the kiss first, breathing hard. Her robe has slipped completely open and the towel is in a puddle around her feet.
I rest my forehead against hers. "You really think I staged it?" I keep my forehead against hers, watching her eyes flick from my mouth to the broken window and back again.
She doesn’t answer, but she does unhook her bra, and a lump forms in my throat. She kisses me again, and this time, both of her hands are on the lapels of my jacket, pulling me forward as she backs toward her bed.
Her mouth is more insistent, her need palpable as she presses against me.
I don't hesitate to lift her up and carry her over to the bed, letting her legs wrap around my waist. Her kisses taste of desperation and desire, as if she's been trying to forget me just as much as I have her.
It's like feeding an addiction I never knew I had until now.
My hands roam over her body, learning every curve and contour under the thin fabric of her robe. I can feel her heat through the silk, and it only fuels my growing hunger for her. Her skin is so soft, so warm, and I can't get enough.
"Enzo," she whimpers, arching her back and exposing the beautiful expanse of her neck. I growl low in response, my grip on her hips tightening as our kisses intensify. Greedily, I pepper her collarbone with open-mouthed kisses, trailing heat in their wake.
As I peel back the edge of her robe, the culmination of my every fantasy is laid bare before me.
Her breasts are perfect—round and firm, capped with hardened nipples that beg for my attention.
She lies on the bed with her hair splayed wildly around her face as I rip off my jacket and then my shirt.
Her hands reach for the fly of my slacks, and I let her undo them and pull my hard dick out.
She wraps her fingers around my length, stroking me to full attention as I groan in pleasure. Her hand continues to work my length as I push my pants down and toe off my shoes before crawling over her, finally breaking her grip on me.
"You're so damn hot, Alessia," I growl against her skin. I suddenly need more of her, to have every inch of our bodies pressed together. I kick the pants off and hook my fingers around the elastic of her black silky panties and pull them until she shimmies her legs out and is spread for me.
I skim my hand down her stomach, causing gooseflesh to rise in its wake. Her breath hitches as I reach between her legs, brushing over her damp folds. She's wet and hot for me, and it sends a jolt straight to my cock. "You're soaked," I whisper, nipping at her earlobe before biting it lightly.
Her hips buck at my touch as I rub her clit and spread the moisture. What I wouldn’t do to have this little minx tied up as my fuck toy all night long, but if wind got back to Gordo, I’d never hear the end of it. I have to let her lead.
“Fuck me…” she breathes, and I get the feeling this isn’t the wine talking.
"So impatient, Bella ," I tease, but I can't blame her. Her scent is driving me wild, and I need her just as much. I run my fingertips over her heated folds, delving just the tip of my finger inside her slick entrance. She whimpers, arching her hips upward, silently begging for more.
I brush my lips against hers. "You taste so good, Alessia," I moan, wanting to savor every inch of her. "And you feel even better."
Her nails dig into my back as I trace a leisurely path over her swollen nub, down to her entrance and beyond, then back up. I can feel her quivering beneath me, anticipating where my mouth is going next. "Enzo," she moans, and it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard. It sets my blood on fire.
I freeze at her moan, my cock throbbing with need as I look up at her face. Her eyes are closed, a flush creeping up her cheeks, and she bites her lip in pleasure. I want more of that sound. More of her.
I shift between her legs, my engorged cock aching for her. Holding her gaze, I tease the tip against her wet entrance, letting us both feel the electricity between us. I watch as realization dawns in her expressive eyes—this time, there's no denying the lust between us.
"Fuck," I growl, unable to take it anymore. With sheer willpower, I enter her slowly, inch by achingly slow inch. Her walls grip me tightly, rippling around me in pleasure and welcome. She grunts and arches off the bed as I bottom out and start thrusting.
Her wetness coats us, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that feels like we were made for each other. "Fuck, you feel so good," she moans, and it's like gasoline on an already raging inferno.
I reach to cup her breast, rolling the aching peak between my thumb and forefinger as I continue my relentless pace. Her eyes fly open in surprise before rolling back in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck, yes," she moans, her toes curling in pleasure. "More."
With a growl of hunger and need, I increase my pace, taking her harder, deeper. I want to be deep inside her forever, marking her as mine. My gaze locks with hers as we move together, our bodies in tune with each other's rhythm as if we've always known this moment would come.
I slip a hand between her thighs, finding her wet and aching for me. My cock throbs, but I hold back, teasing her swollen clit with the pad of my finger as I continue moving inside her. A whimper escapes her lips as she bites down on her bottom lip. "Enzo… More…"
"You like that, do you?" I say in her ear, relishing in her surrender.
"God, yes," she moans, arching her back and inviting me deeper into her tight heat. As much as I want to please her, I can't help but feel possessive, territorial. She is mine tonight… and maybe more if I play my cards right.
Alessia's nails dig into my shoulders, leaving bloody trails as she writhes beneath me.
I'm losing control, her tight heat milking me with every thrust, and her low moans of pleasure are the sweetest music to my ears. "Bella," I growl, my voice a deep rumble as I thrust deeper, harder. She's so wet, so tight, and all around perfect. I don't ever want to let go.
“I…” She grunts, and I feel it before she can even express it. Her pussy clamps down hard on my dick, making it impossible to thrust into her. She’s so tight I have to be deliberate about the way I fuck her, and it sends me toppling over the edge.
Ecstasy washes over me, and I'm powerless against it. Her name is on my lips as I empty everything I have into her, collapsing atop her sweat-slicked form. My heartbeat races in my ears, and hers too, crashing against mine in an erratic rhythm that slowly starts to even out.
"Holy shit," she pants, and I can only manage a nod in agreement as I catch my breath.
Slowly, I realize my weight is on top of her and roll to the side, pulling her with me so we rest on our sides.
My hand idly strokes her hip as my heart rate returns to normal, but the rush of adrenaline is long gone.
All that remains are a sated exhaustion and lingering lust in my veins.
Alessia curls into me softly, and I hold her, pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder.
She says nothing, which says more than she thinks it does, and when I start to pull away, she grips my wrist and brings it back over her body.
So I shift, pulling the covers up over us, and lie next to her, staring at the ceiling as she starts to fall asleep.
Lots of things have happened when I was put on a mark before, but fucking them isn’t one of them. I’ve crossed a line I can’t uncross, but I can’t say I'm apologetic about it.
Gordo will be pissed.
Emilio won’t understand.
But what’s done is done.
Now I have to convince her to let me keep her safe or whoever tried to break in here today might just get what they want.