But to prove to myself that I was still in control, I forced myself to stop.
When I pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, eyes dazed with the same raw hunger mirroring mine.
I’d won.
Triumph surged through me, but so did something darker, a possessiveness that clawed at my chest.
From the moment I saw her on the rooftop, she was mine.
Mine.
Nothing on the planet would allow me to walk away.
And fuck, that realization hit like a punch, leaving my blood humming with a need I can’t afford.
Adriano accelerates around a slow-moving truck.
But my mind isn’t on the present.
It’s back in my house, my bedroom, with a vision of Valentina, head tipped back defiantly, even in defeat.
With her—“Fuck you, Moretti”—she’s every inch the Mafia Princess, a formidable adviser to her father.
I need to focus.
Need to think about the upcoming meeting with my brother and Nico and the details that need to be in place for my upcoming wedding.
And that brings me right back to Valentina Russo.
I’m unable to resist my future wife.
Cursing, I snatch my phone from the pocket of my suit coat.
My obsession with the future Mrs.Moretti isn’t healthy.
The realization doesn’t stop me from opening the security app with a single swipe.
The screen glows to life.
Not distracted by the emails and messages from my family, I navigate straight to my live feeds.
I ignore all of them, except for the one in my bedroom.
In crisp high definition, I see the empty bed with its rumpled sheets.
There’s no sign of her.
My heart rate spikes.Then I notice the door to the ensuite bathroom is ajar.
Of course she hasn’t gone anywhere.
I zoom in, but the angle cuts off just short of the bathroom interior.
When Hawkeye Security installed the cameras, I’d been deliberate in my choices of angles.And now I regret my deliberate nod to privacy.Foolish oversight.I want to see her.
When I’d undressed her earlier, I’d savored every moment.
But the sight of her, the way her skin felt beneath my fingers, hadn’t been enough.
