5. Pietro
PIETRO
BUILT FOR SIN
W e’re pregaming in Matteo’s home office, which reeks of testosterone.
The dark wood, the smell of cigars, and the rich leather couch and chairs set the tone.
But the focal point is a built-in bookcase made from the wood of old cognac barrels.
It advertises power and wealth, like a beloved sweater that my brother wears well.
The whiskey burns smoothly, settling in my chest as I laugh with my brothers.
The room is thick with the kind of banter that only years of shared blood and battle can forge.
Renalto rolls his eyes as Matteo teases me about being the next to settle down while he nurses his drink like the responsible oldest brother he’s always been.
“Just wait,” I say, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Give Renalto a few months. He’ll have her knocked up, too.”
Renalto groans, tipping his head back. “I hate you all.”
The laughter is easy, and the night stretches ahead of us like an open road of excess. A knock at the door interrupts us, and Gio steps into the room, his face unreadable.
“Hummer’s ready,” he announces.
Matteo grins. “Let’s go, boys. Time to get the party started properly.”
The night’s crisp air greets us as we step outside, and the remnants of the thick scent of burning cigars waft from our clothes. The city waits for us, golden and electric, the Hummer a sleek beast ready to deliver us into its belly.
I’m expecting a good time—drinks, women, a night of indulgence. What I’m not expecting is her.
I see her the moment we settle at our reserved table at Velluto.
She’s on the dance floor, oblivious to the men watching her. Their gazes are hungry, and their hands are itching to touch her. But they don’t.
They can’t .
She’s untouchable in a way that isn’t just about distance—it’s in how she moves. She owns every inch of the space around her.
My breath catches.
Her hair, dark as ink, gleams under the low, golden lights, each wave is like silk as it cascades over her shoulders.
Her dress is short, showcasing her figure.
She has curves in all the right places. I’m mesmerized by how comfortable she is, living in the moment like she owns it.
And she does. Her hands travel down her body as her knees dip.
She shimmies her hips and runs her hand up her body and over her ample breasts.
I’m mesmerized, caught in her gravity, and unable to look away. Waiting. Wanting.
I’m waiting to see what she does next.
And then, she opens her eyes.
They’re blue like an Easter egg sitting in a basket on Easter morning. They’re bright and unassuming, like something delicate wrapped in something dangerous.
My cock hardens instantly.
She’s incredible. Sexy. Vibrant. Mysterious.
And she’s looking at me .
There’s something in her gaze, something I can’t place. Not innocence. Not seduction.
A challenge. A dare.
Like she’s silently telling me to come and fucking take her.
I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my veins. My brothers are still laughing. A tray of drinks has arrived, yet they’re still talking about the night ahead, but I don’t hear them anymore.
All I hear is the beat of the music.
All I see is the most incredible woman on the dance floor, tempting me.
She’s grinding alone on the dance floor, making me hard.
Her body moves to the beat, and she and the music become one fluid picture that mesmerizes me. She's oblivious that all the men are looking at her and wanting her .
But she’s mine.
I have to have her. The sheen of her jet-black hair is blinding. When she opens her eyes again, it’s clear we only have eyes for each other.
My cock pulsates.
Who is she?
The dim lighting surrounds her like an aura of mystery.
She's different from the other women.
She’s silently daring me to fuck her.
I downed my drink and set the glass on the table with a thunk.
“Jesus, Pietro, what’s the matter?” Renalto asks.
“Do you know that woman?” I ask no one in particular.
“No, but something tells me you are going to get lost in that ,” says Niccoló.
Matteo claps me on the back. “Go get her, brother. You deserve a night off. God knows you’ve been off the grid long enough. Welcome to New York—the city that’s filled with endless possibilities. Maybe you’ll be the next one getting married.”
“Don’t count on it,” I murmur. I never planned on a wife, kids, or the happy fucking ever after. It’s bullshit if you ask me.
But I’m no longer processing the words of my brothers. I approach the dance floor as the base shakes the walls.
I only have eyes for her.
I take my time moving through the room like I own it because, in a way, I do. My name carries weight, even if I prefer to let my actions speak louder. But tonight, I’m not here for business. Tonight, I’m just a man who’s unexpectedly captivated .
The crowded floor parts like I’m a messiah.
I move into her space, wrap my arm possessively around her waist, and pull her to my chest.It’s a magical moment as we move together, like a couple that has practiced for years.
We’re two parts of a whole because there’s no light between us.
My cock presses against her, and she straddles me, then moves her body seductively down mine until her face comes to a stop at my cock.
Fuck me, and all that’s holy.
The music saves her as the song transitions into one of rap, and I guess I’ll never know what she was going to do next. I place my palm on her back as we step off the dance floor. That shift in the air is subtle with a pull of something—someone—I wasn’t expecting.
I led her to the bar and pulled out a chair for her. She sits. I stand beside her, infatuated.
“Drink?”
“Dirty martini.”
I catch the bartender’s eye. I nod toward the bottle of top-shelf bourbon behind him and ask for the martini.
Then, I turn to her and take in her flawless face.
Her skin looks tanned even though it’s not beach weather.
Her eyelashes flutter unpretentiously as her mouth, the one I’d love to fuck, is perfectly poised for the kiss I yearn to give her.
“You look like you’ve got a dangerous amount of curiosity,” I say, watching as she shifts her gaze to me, her eyes bright with interest.
“And you look like trouble," she counters smoothly, arching a brow.
I chuckle. “That’s funny. Most people say ‘charming’ first.”
“Charming is just well-dressed trouble,” she replies as her gaze meets mine. She’s not backing down, and it’s hot.
Damn. I like her already.
She’s intriguing.
Shifting her body, she turns toward me. I position myself between her legs.
The drinks are on the bar. I hand her the Cosmo and lift my bourbon, toasting her.
“To the sexiest woman in the room. ”
She smiles, our glasses touch, and we sip. She’s completely unaware that she’s just become the most interesting person in the bar.
The low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the faint scent of expensive whiskey fade. None of it holds a candle to how she tilts her head as she waits for me to speak with a small, amused smile playing at the corner of her lips.
I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before, but damn. I wish her pert lips were on me and not the stemware. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice to draw her closer. “If I told you I’m cursed, would you believe me?”
Her lips curve, playful, interested. “Can’t say that I would. Should I be worried?”
“That depends,” I smirk, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Every woman who gets too close to the men in my family gets more than she bargained for. Some say it’s a curse.” I shrug.
She doesn’t miss a beat. Her fingers trail lazily along the rim of her glass before she meets my gaze head-on. “I’m up for a challenge. I’ve been through worse things. A curse…” Her voice falls off, and she shrugs as if it’s nothing.
Fucking hell. Now I’m the one in trouble.
I grin, tipping my glass toward her before taking a slow sip. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you want another drink?”
“I was just leaving,” she murmurs, and I all but come in my pants.
We finish our drinks, and she slides off the chair as if rehearsing her exit. I set my glass on the bar, dropped a hundred-dollar bill, and turned to her. “So was I.”
I text Joseph, my driver, who was on standby as a second driver, and by the time we make it out of the club, he’s waiting for us. I open the door and help her into my armored vehicle.
This night is going to be epic.