Chapter 17 Maddie
I'm sitting in my dark kitchen staring at a can of cold soup and trying to convince myself to eat something, when I hear the rumble of a truck outside.
It's been three hours since Enzo dropped me off, three hours of replaying every moment of what happened on that mountain road.
The fear when those men boxed me in. Their threats and intimidation.
And then Enzo arriving like some kind of avenging angel, his voice deadly calm as he faced down men who clearly wanted to hurt me.
The way he said "what's mine" keeps echoing in my head, along with the flutter of something that definitely wasn't fear when he claimed me so possessively.
The truck engine cuts off, and I hear voices outside in rapid Italian. A moment later, someone knocks on my door.
"Signorina Sullivan? Is Franco. I have work to do."
Franco? But we weren't supposed to start the electrical work until next week.
I open the door to find Franco standing there with two other men and what looks like a portable generator on wheels.
"Franco, hi. I thought you were starting Monday?"
"Change of plans," he says in his careful English. "Signor Benedetti, he says you need power tonight. For safety."
"Tonight?"
"Sì. After what happened today..." He gestures vaguely, and I realize Enzo must have told him about the incident on the road. "No good for you to be alone in dark house."
One of the other men is already carrying the generator toward my front door while the third unloads cables and equipment from the truck.
"I don't understand. This is very sudden."
Franco shrugs. "Signor Benedetti, he pays for rush job. We do rush job."
Enzo is paying for this? I should probably be annoyed about him making decisions for me, but after today's scare, the thought of having actual electricity feels like a gift from heaven.
"How long will this take?"
"Two hours, maybe three. We connect generator to main panel, give you lights and outlets. Not permanent, but good for now."
"And the permanent work?"
"Monday, like planned. Tonight is emergency solution."
The men work fast, threading cables through windows and connecting the generator to my electrical panel. Within an hour, I have functioning lights for the first time since arriving in Sicily.
The transformation is dramatic. My disaster house suddenly looks less like a medieval ruin and more like a charming fixer-upper. The warm light makes the stone walls look cozy instead of cold, and I can actually see the beautiful details I'd been missing in the darkness.
"Beautiful!" Franco says with satisfaction as he tests the last outlet. "Much better, no?"
"Much better, yes. Thank you so much."
"Is nothing. Signor Benedetti, he wants you safe."
There's something in the way Franco says it that makes me think he knows more about today's incident than he's letting on. But he just packs up his tools and heads for the door with his crew.
"Generator has fuel for twelve hours," he says. "Tomorrow, I bring more fuel, start on permanent electrical."
After they leave, I walk through my house turning lights on and off like a kid with a new toy. I have electricity! I can see! I can plug things in!
I'm celebrating this minor miracle when another knock comes at my door. This time it's Enzo, carrying what looks like enough food to feed a small army.
"I brought dinner," he says when I open the door. "I thought you might not feel like cooking after today."
He's changed out of the suit he wore to rescue me, now wearing dark jeans and a black sweater that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders. His hair is slightly mussed, and there's something different about his expression, less controlled than usual, more openly concerned.
"That's very thoughtful. Come in."
He steps inside and stops short when the lights come on. "Franco works fast."
"You arranged this, didn't you? The generator, the emergency electrical work?"
"I arranged for you to be safe and comfortable. You shouldn't be alone in a dark house after what happened today."
The way he says it, matter-of-fact and slightly possessive, warms me.
"Thank you. For this, and for... earlier. For coming to find me."
"You don't need to thank me for that."
"Yes, I do. Those men were dangerous, and you—"
"Madison." He sets the food bags on my table and turns to look at me directly. "Are you truly alright? Not just physically, but..."
The concern in his voice, the way he's looking at me like he's genuinely worried about my emotional state is surprising.
"I was terrified," I admit. "When they boxed me in, when I realized I couldn't escape. I've never been that scared in my life."
"That's understandable. They're dangerous men."
"But then you showed up, and..." I struggle to find words for what I felt in that moment. "You weren't afraid of them at all. They were afraid of you."
Something flickers across his face. "Fear is a useful tool in business negotiations."
"That wasn't business. That was personal."
"Yes," he says quietly. "It was."
We stare at each other across my small kitchen, and I feel that same electric tension that's been building between us since the night in his bathroom.
"You called me yours," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them.
His expression shifts, becomes more intense. "I did."
"What did you mean by that?"
"What do you think I meant?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility and danger and something that makes my pulse race.
"I think," I say carefully, "that you were claiming me publicly. In front of those men."
"And how do you feel about that?"
The honest answer is that it thrilled me in a way I didn't expect. The possessive way he said it, the absolute authority in his voice, the way those dangerous men backed down because I belonged to him—all of it sent heat spiraling through me that had nothing to do with fear.
"I should probably be offended," I say. "I should tell you that I don't belong to anyone, that I'm an independent woman who can take care of herself."
"But?"
"I'm not offended."
He takes a step closer, and I can smell his cologne, can see the way his eyes have darkened.
"What are you, then?"
"Grateful. Protected. And..." I take a breath, gathering courage. "Absolutely turned on."
The admission hangs in the air between us for a heartbeat before he moves.
He crosses the space between us in two quick strides, backing me up against the kitchen counter.
His hands slam down on either side of me, caging me in, and he's looking down at me with an intensity that makes my whole body tighten with anticipation.
"Madison." My name is a growl on his lips.
"Yes?"
"If I touch you right now, I'm not going to stop. Not until I've claimed every inch of you. Until everyone in this village knows exactly who you belong to."
The raw possession in his voice makes me burn. "Maybe that's exactly what I want."
His eyes darken to almost jet black. "Careful what you ask for. I'm not a gentle man."
"I don't want gentle," I breathe. "I want you the way you are."
He studies my face for one more heartbeat, then his control snaps.
His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and demanding.
This isn't a kiss—it's a claiming. His tongue invades my mouth while his hands tangle in my hair, pulling just hard enough to make me gasp.
He swallows the sound, angling my head exactly where he wants it, taking complete control.
One hand slides down to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there possessively while he devours my mouth. The gesture of the implied power, the careful restraint, makes me moan against his lips.
"Upstairs," he commands against my mouth. "Now."
He doesn't wait for me to move. Instead, he lifts me easily. I can feel how much he wants me, his cock hard and insistent against me, and I rock against him, making him growl.
"Careful," he warns, carrying me toward the stairs. "Or I'll take you right here against the wall."
"Maybe I'd like that."
He stops walking, pressing me back against the wall at the base of the stairs, grinding against me in a way that makes me cry out.
"You don't know what you're playing with, little American," he says roughly, his accent thicker now. "I've wanted to do this since the moment you walked into my office. Wanted to bend you over my desk and show you exactly what kind of business partnership this would be."
The crude honesty of it, the mental image he's painting, makes me burn hotter.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because I knew once I started, I'd never stop wanting you. And now..." He bites down on the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, marking me. "Now you're mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."
He carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing, his mouth finding mine again, kissing me with a desperation that matches my own. When we reach the bedroom, he sets me on my feet but keeps me pressed against him.
"Strip," he orders. "Slowly. I want to watch."
My hands shake as I reach for the hem of my sweater, but not from fear. From pure, undiluted want. His eyes track every movement as I pull it over my head, standing before him in just my bra and jeans.
"Keep going."
I reach for the button of my jeans, but he stops me.
"No. The bra first."
I comply, unhooking it and letting it fall. His sharp intake of breath is the only sound in the room.
"Perfect," he murmurs. "Do you know what you do to me? How many cold showers I've taken thinking about this?"
"Show me," I challenge.
He's on me in an instant, his hands and mouth everywhere at once. He backs me toward the mattress, his touch leaving trails of fire across my skin. When the back of my knees hit the bed, he follows me down, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way.
"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he promises darkly, his hands making quick work of my remaining clothes. "No other man will ever touch you like this. Make you feel like this."
His hands roam my body, tracing the curves and dips with a reverence that belies the raw intensity of his touch.
I can feel every hard line of his muscles against me, the heat of his skin searing into mine.
His mouth explores my neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving marks that I know will be there tomorrow, a reminder of this moment.
"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs against my skin, his voice a low rumble. "Dreamt of it. Fantasized about it. And now you're here, in my arms, and you're more perfect than I ever imagined."
I arch into him, my body aching with need. "Show me," I whisper. "Show me how much you've wanted this."
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own dark and fierce. "I plan to. I plan to show you everything. Every dirty thought, every fantasy, every desire. You're going to know exactly what you do to me, Madison. Exactly how much you drive me crazy."
His mouth travels down my body, finding sensitive spots I didn't know existed, making me arch and whimper beneath him. When I try to reach for his clothes, he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one large hand.
"Not yet. I've been imagining this for too long. Let me enjoy it."
His words send a shiver of anticipation down my spine, and I can feel myself getting wetter, my body preparing for him. He must feel it too, because he groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated desire.
"Fuck, you're so ready for me," he growls, his hand sliding down to cup me possessively. "So wet and hot."
I rock against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. "Then don't wait," I breathe. "I need you. Now."
He captures my mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his tongue invading, claiming. His fingers find my clit, rubbing in tight circles that make me cry out into his mouth. I can feel myself climbing, the pleasure building fast and hard.
"Come for me," he commands against my lips, his voice rough with his own need. "Let me feel you come all over my hand."
His words, combined with the expert touch of his fingers, send me spiraling over the edge. I come hard, my body convulsing, my inner muscles clenching around nothing. He swallows my cries, his kiss devouring, consuming.
When I finally come down, I'm breathing hard, my body slick with sweat. He pulls his hand away, bringing it to his mouth to suck my essence off his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. The sight is so erotic, so primal.
He stands and strips off his clothes. The sight of him, all hard muscle, makes my mouth go dry. He's perfect, dangerous, and completely focused on me with an intensity that's almost frightening.
"Are you sure?" he asks, positioned above me, his control visibly fraying. "Last chance to change your mind. Because once I make you mine, there's no going back."
"I don't want to go back," I breathe. "I want you. All of you."
He groans at my words, capturing my mouth in another searing kiss. He positions himself at my entrance, and I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him on. "Take me," I whisper. "Take everything. I'm yours."
With a low growl, he thrusts into me, filling me completely. We both moan at the sensation, the perfect fit, the overwhelming pleasure. He starts to move, slow and deep at first, but quickly building pace, his body slamming into mine.
"Harder," I gasp, my nails digging into his back. "Don’t hold back."
He obliges, his hips moving faster, his body coaxing mine to new heights of pleasure. I can feel another orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, ready to explode.
"Come with me," I plead, my voice a desperate whisper.
His response is a low groan, his body tensing as he chases his own release. I can feel him swelling inside me, his cock pulsing, and it's enough to send me over the edge. I come with a cry, my body clamping down on him, milking him for all he's worth.
He follows me over the edge a moment later, my name a rough shout on his lips. We collapse together, breathing hard, our bodies still intertwined. His weight on me feels perfect, grounding, like I've been waiting for this exact moment my whole life.
"Madison," he says after a moment, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my temple.
"Mmm?"
"You understand what this means? What you are to me now?"
I turn to look at him, seeing the serious expression on his face. "Tell me."
"It means you're under my protection. My responsibility. Mine in every way that matters." His hand comes up to cup my face. "And I protect what's mine with everything I have."
The possessiveness should probably concern me, but instead it makes me feel wanted in a way I've never experienced before.
"Good," I whisper, pressing closer to his warmth. "Because I think I've been yours since the moment you rescued me today."
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. "Longer than that, cara. Much longer than that."