We hear heels clicking against stone, sharp and certain.
I turn to Marco before Rosa appears, and whisper, “You make your move, I’ll make mine.” I joke with him, and he tells me to fuck off.
Rosa appears from the corridor, wrapped in black satin, her mask edged in silver. “What are you three scheming?” she asks, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing tray.
“Our brother is losing his mind over a girl,” Marco says, already grinning like a devil.
“She’s not just a girl,” Milo adds. “She’s his apocalypse.”
Rosa raises a brow. “Let me guess. The Irish one.”
I don’t say anything.
That makes her smirk. “She looks good tonight,” she admits, then narrows her eyes. “Too good for you.”
“I don’t want her to look good,” I snap.
“Oh, we know,” Marco nods sagely. “You want her to look ruined. Preferably beneath you.” They all laugh, and I shake my head at them. Their time will come, and I’m remembering every comment they make.
“You three need therapy,” Rosa mutters, sipping.
“No,” Milo says, lighting a cigarette. “We need Matteo to either fuck her or kill her. The in-between is making him dangerous.”
“I’m already dangerous,” I growl.
“Yeah,” Rosa says. “But now you’re distracted. That’s worse.”
They’re right, and it pisses me off.
“She’s not yours,” Rosa says softly, leaning against the column beside me. “And she never can be.”
“She already is,” I say before I can stop myself. Everyone goes quiet. Rosa’s brows lift.
Milo laughs. “Oh, fuck.”
I look out into the ballroom again, and there she is. Smiling, talking. The little lamb, dressed for a wolf.
“I need her,” I murmur.
Rosa stares at me. “Then you better take her before someone else does, rumor is she is to get married soon as she’s finished here. Your secrets are safe with us, from the family.” The three of them nod but smile knowing Father will burn me alive if he finds out about what I want.
I watch her, not able to look away, and the moment she leaves the ballroom, I’m following her. Making sure no one is watching me, or her. I don’t care. I’m too far gone. Her red dress is a trigger, her silence is a fuse, and I’m the fucking match.
She moves fast down the corridor, unaware of me shadowing her, but not for long. In two strides I catch up with her, my hand on her wrist and yanking her back, dragging her into the nearest door.
The library. Dark. Empty.
I slam the door and pin her there, one hand flat to the wood, the other locked at her hip.
“You want to jump, little lamb?” I growl, my mouth inches from hers. “Then fucking jump.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
“You want me to not touch you?” My fingers curl into her thigh, moving the slit of her dress to the side. “Say no, and I’ll walk. Right now. I’ll fucking vanish. My family…we kill, we rule, but respecting a woman is something we honor.”
She doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t push me away, and that’s all the permission I need.
My mouth crashes into hers, a violent snarl of teeth and lust. Her body arches into mine. She fights me, at first. Her nails claw at my shirt. Her thighs clench shut.
