The engine roars to life. The silence is suffocating.
I swallow and force myself to find my voice. “The car I came in?—”
“Shut the fuck up.” The words are flung like knives, cutting and final.
My jaw snaps shut, heat rushing up my neck. My pulse hammers in my ears, equal parts anger and something far more dangerous.
The drive back is a blur of shadows and neon streaking past the windows. He doesn’t look at me once. Doesn’t speak. Just drives like the road itself has wronged him.
When we screech into the Castello’s courtyard, he kills the engine and is out of the car in seconds. My door yanks open before I can reach for it. His hand clamps my arm again and I’m dragged out, stumbling to keep up.
Duchess’s carrier is shoved into a guard’s hands before I can blink. Nicolo doesn’t slow, doesn’t look back. His grip is iron, pulling me through the dark halls and up the staircase toward my room.
My pulse ricochets against my ribs. I could fight him. I could pull away. But I don’t. I can’t.
He pushes into my bedroom, the door slamming shut behind us so hard the frame rattles. For a beat, all I hear is my breathing. His breathing. The thick pressing of silence between us.
Then his voice, low and rough, closer than I realize. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
I open my mouth, but he doesn’t let me get the words out. His palm slams flat against the door, right beside my head. The crack of it vibrates through me, and suddenly he’s towering too close, his chest rising and falling hard.
“You don’t walk into a meeting like that. Not with men like them. Do you have a death wish?” His voice is sharper now, the emotion in it raw and unguarded.
I force my chin up; my voice shakes, but not from fear. “I thought you were going on a date.”
The words hang between us, sharp and humiliating.
His jaw tightens, his face twisted with a look of fury and something darker.
“So what if I was?” His voice is venom, rough and cutting. “That isn’t any of your fucking business.”
Heat scorches through me. My hands ball into fists at my sides.
“Not my business? You keep me locked up in here like I’m yours to control, but the second you want to sneak out?—”
“Enough.” His palm hits the door again, harder this time, the sound like a gunshot in the small space.
His eyes burn into mine—wild, visceral—and for the first time since I’ve known him, he’s not the calm, controlled robot. He’s fire. He’s unchained.
And I can’t stop myself. I push back.
“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to treat me like I’m nothing and then act like…like…” The words tangle in my throat.
Then he moves.
His mouth crashes against mine like he’s been holding back. It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s fuckingdesperate.
His kiss is all teeth and heat, kissing like he wants to break something—me, probably. And I let him. My back hits the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. I don’t care. My fingers dig into his shoulder, then into his dress shirt, dragging him closer like I’m scared he’ll stop.
He tastes like anger. Like control snapping in half. Like something I’m not supposed to want.
And I wantmore.
His thigh shoves between mine, and my hips roll before I can stop them. I grind against him like a goddamn livewire, every nerve screaming. My body reacts without permission—wet, aching, shameless.
His hand slides up my back to my zipper, palm flat and rough and warm. He’s not even touching my skin yet, and I’m already panting. I moan into his mouth, and he groans into mine, the sound low and guttural, like it surprises him.
I shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s always cold. Distant. The kind of man who looks at you like you’re a problem and he hasn’t decided whether you’re worth solving or not.
