"What do you want?" I asked.
He smiled, slow and knowing, as if the answer pleased him far more than my question could.
"Like Signor Marino mentioned earlier," he said, his voice smooth, almost lazy, dangerously so, "I want what's mine." His gaze lingered, unblinking. "I want New York."
I let out a soft laugh, the kind that meant to sound amused rather than offended. "No," I said. "I believe the great Signor Ricci made his position very clear weeks ago. New York is mine. And everyone in that room agreed."
"Then it seems we have a problem," he replied, entirely unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs just enough to claim the space between us. "My brother was meticulous," he continued. "He wrote it into his will." His gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate. "Everything goes to me. Including you."
I leaned forward, closing the distance, lowering my voice as if we were sharing something intimate. "And pray tell," I murmured, "what makes you think you could ever have me?"
His eyes darkened at the challenge, drifting to my mouth, my throat, lingering there for a moment too long before lifting again.
"Go fuck yourself," I hissed, straightening abruptly and breaking eye contact. "We're done here."
He didn't move. He didn't even speak.
His mouth curved, not in offense, not in restraint, but something far worse. Interest.
He may have looked like Dario, but he was a different man entirely. And that was when the unease settled deep along my spine.
"Make sure he never sets foot in this club again," I said to the bald man—Marino. Fuck.
"Wow," he chuckled from his seat just as I turned to leave. I stopped mid-step. "You're one of those, then? The type who turns away her own people?"
"The moment you try to take my territory," I said coolly, not bothering to look back, "you stop being my people."
I walked out before he could answer.
The door clicked shut behind me, sealing the office, and him, away. One of my guards immediately fell into step as I moved down the corridor, past the velvet doors and muffled sounds of lust and indulgence. My pulse was still too fast. My skin still buzzing.
I needed Alex. I needed him now.
"I want a draft of Dario Bianchi's will on my desk by tomorrow morning," I said, pushing through a door where loud moans and the sharp sound of skin against skin spilled into the hallway. I swallowed, my chest tightening painfully at the thought of him. "And I want confirmation on whether he truly had a twin brother."
"As you wish, Princess."
The voice came from behind me. Low, familiar, unmistakable.
Alex.
I turned, and there he was, watching me with that infuriatingly easy grin, his green eyes already darkening. He was still in his black suit, jacket perfectly tailored, his hair cut shorter than before, but somehow, that only made him more devastating. Familiar. Dangerous.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, fighting the instinct to close the distance between us. To touch him. To make sure he was real. I couldn't, not here. Not with cameras watching, not with eyes everywhere.
Where are my guards, anyway?
He didn't give me the chance to think.
His hand caught my arm, swift and sure, as he pulled me into the nearest door. The room was empty. Unlocked. Waiting.
The door shutting behind us with a soft thud. Before I could speak, before I could breathe, he pressed my back against it, his body caging me in. His lips claimed mine, urgent but controlled, as his hands reached behind me and locked the door with a quiet click.
"I've missed you," he murmured against my mouth.
And just like that, the world outside ceased to exist.
"I've missed you too," I whispered, the admission torn out of me as I kissed him back with the same hunger.
For a heartbeat, I thought he would soften. Instead, his hand slid to my throat and closed, pinning me to the door with deliberate pressure. A sound escaped out of me before I could stop it. His body pressed fully against mine, all heat and restraint, leaving no space to breathe, or to even think.
"I didn't enjoy the performance you put on earlier, Isla," he growled, his lips brushing my ear. His grip tightened just enough to remind me who has the power before his mouth drifted down to my neck. Biting, then sucking my skin.
"I had to do something," I whispered, my voice rough as I tried to push him away before his lips could brand the hollow of my neck. There was no shawl, no jacket to hide the mark and it wasn't like I came alone. "If I didn't, the guard would've caught you."
"That fucker?" he asked, incredulous. "He's too busy eye-fucking your friend to notice anything."
He didn't let go. Instead, he pulled me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist like a tether I couldn't resist. "And besides," I breathed, the ache of his absence already gnawing at me as he stumbled back, "we've got a bigger problem in our hands."
"The bastard has a twin," he growled, his mouth trailing fire along my jaw, down to that sensitive spot on my neck. "I already knew."
"When did you find out?" I murmured, my skin alive under his touch.
"Today," he said, his teeth grazing the curve of my breast, causing a shiver to ripple through me. "Your grandfather, he's sharp. He handed you New York already knowing Dario had a twin. He made your ex rewrote his will while you were...indisposed. Your grandfather knew exactly what he was doing."
The realization slammed into me, sharp and undeniable, even through the haze clouding my mind, as he tugged the front of my dress down and his mouth claimed my nipple.
I arched into him, my body responding, while his other hand gripped me tight against his heat. My fingers curled into the back of his head, threading through the softness of his hair while my lips parted, caught between breath and moan.
"It's a test," I gasped, biting out the words as pleasure spilled out of me. "He wants to see if I'll do whatever it takes to own New York. Wants me to marry Dario's twin."
Alex spun me, then pressed me down onto the sofa.
My hands clutched the cushions as he parted my legs, sliding my panties aside before plunging two fingers deep inside me. "I love it when you wear dresses like this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, his fingers teasing my clit with merciless precision, the wet sounds of my arousal filling the room. "Makes it so much easier to access."
"What else?" I demanded, fighting the fog in my brain, but his relentless touch made it so difficult to focus.
"His name's Dante," he said, hitching my dress higher, pushing my panties down and slipping them into his jacket pocket, baring me fully to him. "Their father was a monster. Kept one son close, the other banished to rot with their whore of a mother. Raised in fighting rings. Dario only found out about his twin brother when their father fell ill, two years ago."
I parted my lips, about to ask some more, when his tongue plunged deep into me, obliterating every question swirling in my mind. My hands tangled in the back of his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to keep him there, anchored to me, while his tongue ravaged my pussy.
Suddenly he withdrew, his lips glistening with my arousal. He looked so primal, so utterly intoxicating, it stole my breath away.
His lips curled into a slow, dark smile. "Now, are you done with your questions?" he asked, his voice low and charged. "Because I won't have my wife thinking of other men while I punish you."
"Yes," I breathed, barely able to speak. "For now."
His eyes burned with promise. "Good."
Then, without warning, he dipped back down, his tongue tracing fire across my skin once more.