CHAPTER 10
ALESSIA P.O.V.
The physical reality of the room hits me all at once.
The cold draft from the balcony, the dead burner phone lying like a piece of useless plastic trash on the charcoal-gray carpet, the blinding white glare of the bedside lamp against my bare skin.
I curl my toes into the deep pile trying to ground myself because my brain is actively misfiring.
Trenton deadass left me here. My entire life, my career, my supposedly bulletproof federal identity—all of it erased with one disconnected call.
I am officially a non-person. I don't exist anymore.
I should be looking for a weapon, a blunt object, a fucking pen to jam in his jugular, but my body is paralyzed.
The smell of rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling glass is competing with the scent of his expensive, peppery cologne, and I am standing here vibrating like a cornered stray.
"It’s dead, isn't it?" Leon says, his voice cutting through the noise in my skull. "Everything you worked for is in that plastic shell. Stop trying to hide. I’ve already seen the truth."
He steps right into my personal space. The heat radiating off his dark suit jacket hits me like a physical wall. He reaches out casually and tilts the shade of the bedside lamp, casting his massive shadow directly over my body like a shroud.
"They didn't just leave you, Alessia. They paved the road with your ashes," he tells me, his voice a low, vibrating hum that I feel in the center of my chest. "Trenton sold you for a rounding error. You’re a ghost in a beautiful cage."
Every word is a hammer to my skull. I hate the audacity of this man, the absolute unbothered way he dismantled my reality in under five minutes.
He's right, and that logic is a cold blade twisting in my gut.
I try to pull up the mental armor of a federal agent, lifting my chin, hunching my shoulders into a tactical brace even though I'm standing completely bare in front of him.
"Motherfucker," I mutter, but my voice shakes and betrays the entire vibe.
The taste of copper floods my tongue because I am biting my lower lip so hard I broke the skin.
The cold air stings my wet eyes. I watch his perpetually bruised knuckles twitch at his side, and the feral, cornered animal inside me wants to strike.
But the adrenaline-addicted freak underneath wants to grab him just so I don't float off the fucking floor.
Leon chuckles darkly. "Is that all you have left? Profanity? Don't look at me like I'm the one who betrayed you. You're shaking, Agent Heller."
I step back until my spine hits the edge of the mattress.
I'm trapped. Leon reaches out, his rough, calloused fingers tracing the dark, ugly bruises on my wrists from where we fought ten minutes ago.
His shadow feels impossibly heavy. He presses his thumb firmly into the exact center of a bruise on my right wrist, delivering a sharp, controlled spike of pain that snaps my focus entirely to him.
"Who do you answer to now?" he asks, his voice dropping into a dark purr. "Tell me who owns this skin, Alessia. The badge is gone. What’s underneath it?"
He is deliberately backing me into a psychological corner.
I am suffocating in this penthouse. He demands a verbal surrender before he’ll give me the out we both desperately want.
The dam inside my head shatters. I am not going to stand here and be the pathetic, spiraling victim.
I snap. I reach out, grab the unbuttoned collar of his silk shirt, and violently yank his massive frame down toward me.
The expensive silk bunches and tears slightly under my frantic grip.
The sudden heat of his chest crashing into my space is exactly what I need.
"Shut up. Just shut up," I demand, my reflection in the mirror catching the wild, dilated look in my own eyes. "Do it. Take what’s left. I can’t think anymore. Make me stop thinking."
Leon’s dark, triumphant laugh vibrates directly against my throat.
He easily absorbs my violent pull, catching my waist with hands that feel like iron bands.
He uses my own momentum against me, flipping me backward so I crash onto the dark silk sheets.
He instantly looms over me like a storm cloud, his broad shoulders blocking out the ceiling lights.
My hair fans out across the black pillowcase.
The cool silk on my back clashes with the intense, thudding pulse in my ears.
"There she is," he says, staring down at me. "You want to fight me for it? Good. Don't stop now, Alessia."
He cages me, planting his arms on either side of my head.
His tie, still draped loosely around his neck, brushes back and forth against my collarbone.
He doesn't touch me with his body yet, leaving me suspended in this agonizing, terrifying tension.
The smell of rain-drenched pavement drifts in from the open balcony door.
"Say the words," he commands, his ice-blue eyes piercing right through my skull. "Tell me what you’re begging for. You’re not an agent tonight. You’re mine."
I stare up at him, realizing that if I say it, I can never take it back.
I am officially burning the house down with me inside it.
I make the choice. I let go of the light.
I reach up and cover my eyes with my forearm because I deadass cannot look at him while I strip away the last shred of my pride.
My voice comes out in a low, jagged rasp. "Take it. Take all of it. I don't want to be Alessia Heller tonight. Silence me. Please."
"Christ, Alessia." The cold, calculated syndicate boss vanishes.
He grips my chin with brutal force, yanking my arm away from my face so I am forced to witness the raw, unhinged hunger in his expression.
"You have no idea what you just did. There’s no going back to the light after this. You're mine now. Entirely."
The sheer predatory shift in the air makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
I see the monster fully unleashed, and the sickest part is, I am starving for it.
Leon sheds the remnants of his tailored suit with frantic, focused efficiency.
The wool and silk hit the floor in a heap.
He kicks his leather shoes aside without even looking down, his ice-blue gaze locked onto mine the entire time.
I am staring at the thick, jagged scar across his ribs, the heavy, scarred muscle of his torso.
The heat coming off his bare skin is ridiculous.
"Watch me," he orders. "Do you see what you’ve done to me for three years?"
Stripped of the suit, he is just a blunt weapon.
He comes over me, his massive weight pinning me to the mattress and instantly stealing the air from my lungs.
He leans his full weight onto his forearms, boxing me in, then uses his knee to bluntly force my thighs apart.
The heavy friction of his skin against mine is electric.
"Open for me," he growls, settling between my legs. "You don't get to close your doors anymore."
He drops his head and initiates a brutal, punishing kiss.
His fingers tangle aggressively in my auburn hair, tilting my head back sharply to gain better access.
His tongue invades my mouth, dragging roughly against mine, tasting of desperation and dark ownership.
The pressure of his teeth against my lower lip makes me gasp into his mouth.
"Taste what you’re giving up," he murmurs against my wet lips. "Breathe for me."
My adrenaline spikes and I match his feral energy.
I arch my spine off the mattress, digging my fingernails hard into the broad muscles of his back, leaving stinging red crescents in his skin.
I hook my legs tightly around his waist, locking him to me so he can't pull away.
I want him to feel exactly how wrecked I am.
"Is that all you have?" I challenge him breathlessly. "Don't you dare stop."
He breaks the kiss with a low groan against my throat, trailing open-mouthed, wet bites down my neck and sharp collarbones. He intentionally lingers at the pulse point on my throat, his teeth nipping hard enough to leave a dark bruise.
"I’m going to mark every inch of you," he promises darkly, his warm mouth damp on my skin. "You’re going to wear me tomorrow."
I am actively burning my pristine FBI reputation to ash with every mark he leaves. His large, calloused hands explore my body with zero gentleness. He drags his rough palms up my ribcage, his thumbs grazing the sensitive underside of my breasts before gripping my hips with bruising force.
"Look how you react to me," he says, squeezing my flesh. "You were made for this."
He shifts downward, the thick, hot head of his cock settling right at my wet, aching entrance.
He pauses. The agonizing tension of the near-contact makes me writhe against the silk sheets, but he holds himself just inches away.
His jaw is clenched so tight a muscle jumps in his cheek.
He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his stare.
Sweat drips from his chin onto my chest.
"Look at me, Alessia. Who am I?"
The wait is pure, unadulterated torture.
"Look at me, fuck," Leon orders gruffly. His breath is hot and shallow against my mouth, smelling of expensive bourbon and raw lust. He leans in closer, whispering explicit, degrading dirty talk that hits every one of my ruined nerves. "You were always a liar. You love that I know what you are."
He isn't wrong. The truth hurts infinitely more than the cover story ever did.
Without another warning, Leon thrusts forward, sinking into me in one deep, unyielding motion.
The blunt, stretching fullness completely short-circuits my brain.
I gasp, my eyes rolling back as my hands fly up to grip the heavy mahogany headboard.
"Christ, finally," he groans, his voice ragged. "You’re so tight for me."
He sets a punishing, aggressive rhythm right out of the gate. It is a blunt weapon of a pace, driving deep and pulling almost completely out before slamming back in. His heavy chest slaps against mine with every brutal stroke, the visceral, rhythmic sound echoing in the massive room.
"Take it," he demands, grinding his hips down hard. "Let go of the rest."
He is actively breaking my mind, and I am deadass letting him. I lose my grip on reality. The intense friction and the sheer size of him push me over the edge of rational thought. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, biting down hard on his sweaty shoulder to muffle my screams.
"Leon... please," I beg, crying out a name I've treated like a curse for three years. "Leon!"
The sound of my voice saying his name like that drives him into a deeper, violent frenzy.
Leon reaches up, using one massive hand to encircle both of my bruised wrists.
He rips my hands away from the headboard and pins them securely above my head, pressing the hard wood against my knuckles.
The heavy metal of his watch clinks against the mahogany.
"You don't need your hands," he growls, taking absolute physical control as he pounds into me, leaving my chest completely open and vulnerable. "Stay right there."
Sweat drips steadily from his brow onto my flushed skin. He leans down, his teeth grazing my earlobe as he claims me from the inside out.
"They never deserved you," he whispers harshly, the heavy thud of the bed frame hitting the wall punctuating his words. "I’m the only one who sees the real you."
The corruption is absolute. I am no longer an undercover agent. I am just his. The overwhelming psychological surrender and the relentless physical battering shatter my control. My internal walls clench fiercely around his thick length. I cry out, "Oh god. Leon, now! Shit, Leon!"
My toes curl into the mattress, my eyes snapping shut as the violent, blinding wave of my climax rips through my body.
The white-hot release burns away the last remnants of Alessia Heller.
The tight, spastic grip of my orgasm pushes him instantly over the edge.
Leon groans a harsh, guttural "Fuck," finishing deep inside me with a rapid succession of final, violent thrusts.
He collapses his heavy, sweat-slicked weight entirely against me. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breathing coming in ragged hitches. "Mine," he gasps against my skin. "You’re fucking mine."
The room goes utterly silent, save for our combined, exhausted breathing. I am completely empty. And my mind is finally quiet.
The adrenaline crash hits me like a freight train ten minutes later.
I am physically wrecked, lying tangled in the dark silk sheets underneath the crushing weight of a syndicate boss.
I stare blankly up at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the rain dance across the plaster.
I lift one heavy, trembling hand and trace a small, circular pattern on the mattress, trying to process the absolute insanity of what I just did.
"The world is still out there, isn't it?" I murmur, my voice devoid of any real fight.
Leon shifts his weight. "Don't start thinking again," he warns me softly. "Stay here."
He wraps a thick, heavy arm securely around my waist and presses his hot chest flush against my bare back, physically anchoring me to the bed. He hooks his chin over my shoulder, the rough scratch of his stubble grazing my sensitive skin.
"You’re not going anywhere," he states, a dark promise. "Let them look for you. They won't find you here. Go back to sleep, Alessia."
He knows exactly when my panicked agent brain tries to reboot, and he is determined to keep it shut down.
He smooths the damp auburn hair away from my sweaty neck to make room for his lips.
He presses a damp, heavy kiss to my nape, whispering words that should terrify me but instead just wrap around me like a twisted, protective blanket.
"Good girl. You’re much better at this than being a hero. You were always meant for the dark."
I should be physically repulsed, but the validation works.
I drop my hand down, my fingers lightly brushing the perpetually bruised knuckles of the arm wrapped around my waist. I run my thumb slowly over a fresh, rough scab on his index finger.
It’s a damning acknowledgment. I am intimately caressing the hands that execute the crimes I spent years documenting.
"You never stop fighting, do you?" I ask him quietly.
"Neither do you," he replies, his voice rumbling against my spine. "We're a pair of broken things."
The last bit of tension bleeds entirely out of my muscles. I exhale a long, slow breath, letting my body go completely limp against his heat. I am trapped in a fortified penthouse, my career is a burning pile of ash, and I am probably going to catch a federal bullet tomorrow.
"Sleep," Leon commands quietly in the dark. "I've got you. Tomorrow we finish them."
Let them try. My badge is dead, and frankly, I don't give a shit anymore. I close my eyes and finally go to sleep.