Chapter 9
A kiss.
The most idiotic, meaningless act two people can commit. I always thought it was disgusting—swapping breath, spit, germs like animals. I never understood why people made a goddamn spectacle of it.
There was nothing enjoyable about it.
Nothing sane about it.
And yet—
The second my mouth touched hers, something ancient and wrong ripped through me.
It wasn’t me leaning in. It wasn’t even a choice.
It felt like something with claws grabbed the back of my skull and dragged me straight into her.
Like shadows I’ve spent my whole life outrunning finally decided to catch me.
Now I’m ruined.
Because fuck me—there is nothing in this world that has ever tasted like her. Her mouth was heat and sin and damnation, and for one suspended second, every nerve in my body bowed to her.
What the hell is she carrying between her lips? What kind of dark, ancient voodoo did she slip under my skin?
My bloodstream crawls with her.
My pulse beats her name.
My thoughts aren’t thoughts anymore—just fractured pieces of Mila.
Who the fuck am I now, if not something that exists because she breathes?
Damn me. I can feel the sick, rotten Morelli curse—the one that ate my brothers whole—pulling at me now.
I don’t want it.
I don’t want to lose myself the way they did.
I don’t want to turn into the kind of man who waits for a woman’s footsteps just to inhale, who becomes blind and desperate and animal. It turns you into a shell—a servant to obsession. A man who circles one woman like she’s the only flame left, even when she wouldn’t piss on you to put you out.
The kiss was a mistake.
Letting her into my orbit was a mistake.
Touching her was a disaster waiting to happen.
Her leaving is good—it keeps the curse dormant. It means I won’t end up on my knees, worshipping her like a lunatic. It means I won’t start wars for her or tear men apart just for looking her way. Won’t kill someone for the sin of wanting what’s mine.
…Christ.
All of it feels so fucking right. But I shove it down deep enough to convince myself it was never there.
I’m meant to be alone.
A Morelli with no attachments. No woman to burn alive in the fallout of this madness. Don’t fool yourself—when we fall, we don’t become lovers.
We become monsters.
Devils.
Possessive, vicious creatures whose hands bruise without meaning to, whose love destroys whatever it touches. I refuse to be led by my dick because of one woman. Especially a woman who doesn’t feel even a fraction of this insanity for me.
So Mila can go.
She can work for whoever she wants. Fuck whoever she wants. Smile at whoever she wants.
She is free.
I don’t want her or any of this.
She can go to that oil-tycoon bastard—
Fuck.
A snarl rips out of my throat, raw enough to burn. How the fuck didn’t I see this sooner? How didn’t I notice the curse creeping in?
Maybe because she was always here—at my desk, in my space. Always mine without me ever saying it out loud. Even if it was only professional.
There was no threat. No competition. No reason to bare my teeth.
I fooled myself into thinking I had time—endless time—because she stayed. Part of me believed I could keep her forever without trying.
My brothers warned me. I thought I was different. Immune. It wasn’t that I lacked the curse. I just never felt threatened.
She was right there.
Always in reach.
Always looking at me like I was the center of her world.
I slam my already bruised fist into the wall hard enough to rattle the frame, hissing as pain crawls up my arm. Blood streaks down my wrist in thin, messy lines.
She’s not his.
My—
The word lodges behind my teeth, hot and violent and so goddamn true it terrifies me.
Mine.
I hear myself growl. I’m losing language. Losing reason. Losing myself.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. Every possibility flashing through my mind would make even my brothers step back.
I need her here.
I need her in my office.
I need to see her face.
Right fucking now.
Before the curse burns me—and this whole building—down.