He steps forward like he’s trying to bridge distance, charm as armor. “We were just talking. She…Mara…I…” He lets out a nervous laugh.
I don’t let it land. My hand slides inside my jacket and rests on the Glock in its shoulder holster the way one rests a palm on a familiar scar. It’s a simple movement, and it makes him stand straighter.
“Back off,” I say plainly. Ice in it. “You’re out of line.”
He bristles. “Hey, I’m not looking for trouble?—”
“Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see you.” The words are curt, the command absolute. No negotiation.
He swallows. For a second, he assesses my face like a man who’s counting the cost.
Then he steps back, palms raised, posture changing from cocky to careful. “Alright, boss. Got it.”
He moves away slowly, like he’s checking every inch of the terrain between us. I watch him go until the movement in the bushes swallows him, until only bird-sound threads the air.
My shoulders unclench with a sound I don’t bother to hear. Control snapped back into place. I let the silence linger, taste it.
Then movement at the far edge of the garden—a flicker. Duchess, tiny and fearless, streaks past the citrus and stumbles into my line of sight before Mara appears, hair still a mess from sleep, robe tied carelessly.
She stops when she sees me. For a beat, I watch the way her mouth flattens, the little tilt of indignation that is always her first resort. She doesn’t look like she’s seen Luca leave. She looks surprised to see me here, early as I am, in my garden like a thing with business to attend.
“Morning,” she says, voice bright enough to blind the gods.
“Morning,” I answer, but the word’s a different animal coming from me.
My eyes cut to the cat, then to Mara. She picks up Duchess in the crook of her arm. The kitten’s paws knead at her sleeve.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
I don’t need to hear the answer. I already know.
She lifts her chin. “I wanted to go on a walk. To clear my head.”
I step closer until the space between us is intolerable.
“Keep your distance from my men.” My voice drops, and the timbre makes something shift behind her eyes.
She exhales. “You’re marking your territory, Nicolo? How sweet.”
The sarcasm bites, but it also gives me the exact reaction I want: heat, irritation, proof that she’s not afraid of me. That what happened didn’t scare her away. Good.
Too good.
“No.” I step forward until there’s no space but to breathe each other’s air. “This is a warning. Luca’s not a plaything. Nor are any of my men. If I find one finger near you where it shouldn’t be, I won’t hesitate to relieve him of his breathing capabilities.”
She blinks like the words are foreign, then laughs—sharp, brittle. “What? Don’t tell meyou’rejealous.”
“You think this is a joke?” My jaw tightens until I can feel the bone. “You think walking into other men’s arms and teasing is how you’ll get the attention you want from me?”
Her smile fades—just the edges—and something like hurt gleams behind her bravado. She opens her mouth to come back at me, but I don’t let her.
“You’re reckless,” I say, low and steady. “You’re a liability. And I won’t have it. Stay away from my men. Or you won’t like the consequences.”
She swallows before she gives me a grin. “Oh, but Ilovedthe consequences that came with yesterday’s…issue.”
My hand shoots up, grabbing her by her jaw and pulling her close. I watch as she looks up at me through her lashes. The kind of innocence I’m itching to squash, break, and demolish.
“Let me make myself clear, Miss Folonari. I’m not the kind of man you want to beinvolvedwith. Not professionally, and certainly not…” I let my eyes trail down her body painfully slow before I continue. “Intimately. And if you expect cuddles and soft kisses, I’d like to correct that notion. I fuck for pleasure, not to feel a damn thing. Hard. Fast. Unforgiving. You clearly can’t keep up, so stay out of my fucking way.”
