"More than okay. Move. Please move."
I did. Started slow, building rhythm gradually. Let him get used to the feeling before I picked up pace. His hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of his grip.
I reached around and wrapped my hand around his cock. Already hard again despite coming minutes before. Young and responsive and absolutely devastating.
"You feel perfect," I murmured against his ear. "Like you were made for this. Made for me."
"Sandro—" My name was barely coherent.
"That's right. Say my name. Let me hear who's fucking you. Who you belong to." I stroked him in rhythm with my thrusts. Felt him tighten around me as his pleasure built. "Come for me, Emilio. Let me feel it."
He obeyed. Came across my hand and the sheets with a shout that was probably heard by the entire household. I followed him over, burying myself deep as I emptied into him.
We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and sweat. I pulled out carefully and dealt with the condom before gathering him against my chest.
He fit there perfectly. Head tucked under my chin, body relaxed in a way that suggested complete trust.
"Stay tonight," I said quietly. "Wake up with me again."
"I should go home. I have work tomorrow."
"You can work from here. I'll have Thomas drive you to the office when you need to go." I kissed the top of his head. "Stay, Emilio. Let yourself have this."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay. I'll stay."
Satisfaction spread through my chest. Warm and possessive and exactly what I'd been aiming for.
He was mine now. Completely. He just didn't fully realize it yet.
But he would. Soon enough, he'd understand that leaving wasn't an option anymore. That I'd worked my way so thoroughly into his life that extracting me would be impossible.
For now, I held him while he drifted toward sleep. Ran my fingers through his hair. Thought about trial strategy andwitness depositions and all the ways I was going to ensure we won this case.
Because I didn't lose. Ever.
And Emilio Rossi was too valuable to lose. In court and in my bed.
I'd make sure he stayed exactly where he was—compromised and complicit and completely mine.
Whatever it took.
CHAPTER 11: EMILIO
I DIDN'T SEEthe envelope until I was already inside my apartment, door closed behind me, keys still in my hand. White. Plain. No return address. Someone had slid it under my door while I was at Sandro's place.
My heart kicked against my ribs as I picked it up. The paper was cheap. Generic printer stock you could buy at any office supply store. Inside was a single sheet with a printed message:
Drop the Vitale case or you'll regret it.
No signature. No specifics. Just a threat stripped down to its essentials.
I photographed it with my phone, hands steadier than I expected. Then I stood in my tiny apartment and considered my options. Call the police—create a paper trail that could compromise the case. Tell Richard—who would probably withdraw me from representation for my own safety. Tell Sandro—who would do exactly what he'd been doing since we met: take control.
The smart play was obvious. Report it. Document everything. Let professionals handle threats against my life.
Instead, I walked to the kitchen sink and held the paper over the basin. Watched it curl and blacken as fire consumed the words. The ash fell into the steel sink like snow, gray and delicate and irretrievable.
Evidence destroyed. Decision made.
