Chapter 25 #2
"I decided the strategy, but I'm not deciding for you.
" My hands slide from her hips to her waist, gentler now, trying to show her through touch what I'm struggling to say with words.
"I'm asking you to understand the reality we're in.
The pregnancy lie is unraveling—someone knows, which means others will know soon.
The Morettis will figure it out if they haven't already. "
Her eyes flash with something I can't quite read. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll still protect you as long as I can, but it gets harder.
" I cup her face with both hands, needing her to see the truth in my eyes.
"Without the marriage, you're just the woman I'm keeping in my house.
Emilio can argue you're still his family's property, can make legal claims but as my wife—Alessia, as my wife, you're untouchable.
Anyone who comes for you comes for me, for my entire organization, and no one is stupid enough to start that war. "
She's silent, processing. I watch emotions flicker across her face—anger, fear, calculation. Something that might be hope if I'm reading it right, though I could be seeing what I want to see.
"So it's not really a choice," she says finally, and there's resignation in her voice that makes my chest ache.
My thumbs brush across her cheekbones, and I'm probably holding her too carefully, treating her like she's made of glass when I know damn well she's made of steel.
"I'm not Lorenzo. I'm not going to punish you, and if you need time to think about this, take it.
But I also can't lie to you about what refusing means. "
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but I keep talking because if I stop now I might not get this out.
"And I'm done pretending this is just about strategy.
" My voice drops lower, rougher, the admission scraping out of me like broken glass.
"I want you, Alessia. Not just in my bed, though Lord knows I want that too.
I want you at my table. I want to see you wearing my ring.
I want every man who looks at you to know you're claimed.
" I swallow hard," but I understand if you need time.
I understand if this is too much too fast."
Her breath catches, and then, instead of fighting, she kisses me—hard, desperate, all the answer I need.
I kiss her back with everything I have, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip. She grinds down against me, and I groan into her mouth at the friction.
"Matteo—" Her voice breaks on my name.
I lift her slightly, positioning myself at her entrance. Our eyes lock as I lower her slowly onto my cock, feeling her body stretch to take me. The water adds resistance, makes every inch feel heightened, intense. When I'm fully seated inside her, we both freeze, breathing hard.
"Fuck," I groan, forehead pressed to hers. "You feel incredible."
She starts to move—rolling her hips tentatively—but I catch her, still her movements.
"No." My voice comes out harsh with need. "Not like this."
Before she can protest, I'm standing, lifting her with me, my cock still buried deep inside her. She wraps her legs tighter around my waist as I carry her up the steps, water streaming off both our bodies. The night air hits my skin, cooler than the pool, raising goosebumps.
I lay her on the warm tile at the pool's edge, the stone still holding heat from the day's sun. She's spread beneath me, hair fanning out in wet waves, skin glistening, chest heaving. The underwater lights paint her in shades of azure and shadow, and she's so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
"Matteo—"
"Shh." I pull out slowly, almost all the way, watching her face contort. "I want to savor this."
I thrust back in, deep and controlled, and she cries out. Her hands fly to my shoulders, nails digging in. I set a deliberate pace—slow, measured, making her feel every inch of me. The tile is warm beneath my knees, rough texture grounding me even as pleasure threatens to overwhelm.
"Please," she whimpers after several torturous thrusts. "More."
"You'll take what I give you." I pin her wrists above her head with one hand, the other sliding between our bodies to find her clit. "And you're going to thank me for it."
I circle the sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb, feeling her clench around me. Her head thrashes against the tile, back arching, breasts pressing against my chest. Water still clings to her skin, and I lower my mouth to lick droplets from her collarbone, then move to one nipple, sucking hard.
She keens, hips bucking up to meet mine, but I keep my pace maddeningly slow.
"That's it," I murmur against her breast. "Let me hear you."
I pick up the pace gradually, driving into her harder now, the slap of wet skin echoing across the garden.
She's making these desperate little sounds with each thrust—half whimpers, half moans—and they're driving me insane.
Her inner walls flutter around me, gripping me tight, and I know she's close.
"Look at me," I demand, releasing her wrists to grip her jaw instead. "I want to watch you come apart."
Her golden eyes open, glazed with pleasure, locked on mine. I angle my hips, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her vision go unfocused, and feel her start to tremble beneath me.
"Matteo, I can't—I'm going to—"
"Then do it." I press down hard on her clit, thrust deeper, grinding my hips against hers. "Come for me, Alessia. Now."
She shatters with a scream that probably wakes half the estate, body convulsing beneath me, inner walls clamping down so hard it borders on pain.
The sight of her—head thrown back, throat exposed, completely undone—and the feeling of her pulsing around me drags me over the edge.
I bury myself to the hilt, groaning her name as I spill inside her, pleasure whiting out everything else.
For a long moment, I can't move, can't think, can't do anything but feel her body trembling beneath mine. My arms shake from holding myself up. Sweat mixes with pool water on my skin. Her legs are still wrapped around me, holding me inside her like she's not ready to let go.
Finally, I pull out carefully. The loss of contact makes us both gasp. I watch, mesmerized, as my release drips out of her, marking her as mine in the most primal way. My cock twitches at the sight, already half-hard again despite having just finished.
"Come here." I scoop her up, ignoring her small sound of protest, and carry her back into the pool. The water is warm and soothing against overheated skin. She's boneless in my arms, head resting against my shoulder, breathing still uneven.
I settle us on the underwater bench, pulling her into my lap so she's tucked against my chest. My arms wrap around her, holding her close while we both come down from the high. Cicadas drone in the garden. The underwater lights cast shifting patterns across our skin.
"That was..." she starts, then trails off.
"Yes." I press my lips to her wet hair, breathe in the scent of chlorine and jasmine. "It was."
We float like that for a while in comfortable silence, her arms around me. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, following the path of old scars.
Then her hand moves to my face. Traces the raised line from temple to jaw.
"Tell me about this one."
My body goes rigid. "Alessia—"
"Please." Her eyes find mine, and there's something in them I can't refuse. "If I'm going to be your wife, I need to know who I'm marrying."
The man underneath the monster, she means, as if there's anything left of him buried under years of violence and survival.
But she's looking at me like she believes he might still exist, and maybe that's why I nod.
I'm about to tell her things I've never spoken aloud to anyone, not even to the men who've bled beside me.
"I was seventeen." The words stick in my throat and I have to force them out one at a time. "My father brought me to a meeting with the Morettis."
Her hand stills against my face. "Emilio?"
"Emilio, and my uncle too." Even saying his name makes something twist sick in my gut.
The warehouse smell hits me suddenly—rust and standing water and something sweet-rotten I didn't recognize it then but know now that it was blood starting to spoil, and I have to breathe through my mouth for a second because the memory is so vivid it's like I'm back there.
"Arian. My father's brother. The man who taught me to shoot, who used to sneak me extra dessert when I was a kid, who I trusted almost as much as I trusted my father. "
"Your uncle was there with you?"
"He was there with them, standing on Emilio's side of the room with the other Moretti soldiers.
" My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache, and I can feel rage building in my chest even now, seventeen years later, because betrayal like that doesn't fade with time.
"Smiling like he was attending a fucking party. "
She sucks in a breath, and her fingers press against the scar, grounding me. "What happened?"
I don't want to do this—don't want to pull these memories out and examine them in the light, don't want her to see the terrified boy I was before I learned to be ruthless. But she's asked, and something about the way she's holding me makes me believe she can handle the truth.
"I knew something was wrong the second we walked in.
The positioning was off." I can still feel the concrete under my boots, hear the echo of our footsteps in that empty space, smell the industrial cleaner they'd used to scrub the floor that couldn't quite mask the scent of old violence.
"Then the first shot came before anyone could move. "
"Your guards?"