I bit my lip, half in anticipation, half in disbelief at how much I was already craving him, the idea of being alone with him igniting a dangerous mix of excitement and restraint. The music around us pulsed like a second heartbeat, each beat syncing with the racing of my own, as if the club itself was conspiring to heighten the tension.
I swallowed, heat pooling low, and finally let the words slip out, breathless but decisive. “Let’s go,” I said, gripping his hand a little tighter.
Felix was torn. Every fiber of him ached to claim me, to pull me into the shadows and give in to the hunger that had beenbuilding all night—but the thought of taking me to the darkness of the back rooms, to the world of unrestrained indulgence and danger, made him hesitate.
I grabbed his hand and led us off the dance floor, weaving through the throng of bodies, lights flashing around us. My heart was racing, and for a brief moment, I realized I had no idea which way we were actually going.
Felix took the lead, guiding us through the crowd with a quiet confidence that left no room for hesitation. We had to cut through the area with the poker tables, the clatter of chips and low murmur of wagers filling the air.
My gaze had been fixed on Felix, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a very familiar figure. Older, raggedy, and definitely out of place amid the sleek, dangerous energy of Eclipse—my dad.
He was sitting at one of the poker tables, hunched over a stack of chips with a confused, almost desperate look. His hands fumbled as he tried to hold his cards, and every few seconds he glanced nervously at the other players, who were clearly experienced and far more confident. The pile of chips in front of him wasn’t growing—it was slowly dwindling, sliding toward the more seasoned gamblers with each round.
My stomach lurched and I stopped walking. He was supposed to be trying to make money to earn me back, to “save me” from the mafia man who had kidnapped me. Instead, he was slouched over the poker table, utterly out of his depth.
“I…” I said aloud, to no one in particular, my voice barely above a whisper. The words faltered, lost somewhere between disbelief and frustration. How had he ended up here, in a place so far from the plan I had trusted him to follow? My chest tightened, a mix of dread, anger, and helplessness constricting me.
“Should I kick him out?” Felix asked. His eyes stayed locked on my father, reading every twitch, every faltering movement at the poker table.
“What’s the point?” I whispered, torn between anger and disbelief. “He’s just going to come back. He was never going to…” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “I want to go home.”
My need for Felix had been completely extinguished by the sight of my father. Every flicker of desire, every pulse of heat that had been building between us just moments ago, vanished, replaced by disbelief and a gnawing frustration. How could he be here, so recklessly, when he was supposed to be doing everything to earn me back?
When Felix first took me, all I did was miss my father and want to go back to my old life. The life where I worked six days a week at a shitty cafe, took care of his drunk ass, and said nothing when he stole my money. That life had been exhausting, soul-crushing even, but it had been familiar. Safe in its own twisted way.
And seeing him here, getting himself deeper into debt instead of actually trying to earn me back, felt like the biggest betrayal. My chest tightened, hot anger coiling with a bitter disappointment I hadn’t expected to feel.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from him, away from the chaos he had stumbled into. Felix’s hand remained firm in mine, a steadying presence I didn’t even realize I needed until that moment.
“Come on,” he murmured, guiding me away from the poker tables and the mess my father had made of himself. I let him lead, the pulse of the club fading behind us as we pushed through the crowd and out into the night.
The air outside felt like a balm, cool and quiet compared to the heat and chaos of Eclipse. I leaned into Felix slightly, letting thetension of the night and the sting of betrayal ebb just enough to make the journey home bearable.
By the time we reached the brownstone, I was exhausted, my emotions frayed and raw. Felix opened the door and let me slip inside first, closing it behind us with a soft click that felt almost like a promise of safety.
I exhaled, sinking against the wall, letting the quiet envelop me. Outside, the world could burn, the chaos could rage—but here, at least for now, I was home.
Although by definition, I was still a prisoner.
Chapter 30
Felix
Ishould have been devastated to see Tessa like that. I should have wanted to rip her father’s throat out for hurting her, made him pay for what he did.
Instead, I felt relief. Tessa’s father would never pay back the debt he owed me, and she would be mine forever.
Even if by some miracle he scraped together the money, it wouldn’t matter. I’d find a way to bind her to me anyway—twist fate, bend circumstance, do whatever it took. She would be mine, and no one, not even her father, would ever take her away.
Especially if she might be carrying my child. Then there would be no doubt.
I traced my fingers along her bare abdomen, feeling the gentle curve beneath my touch, imagining what might be growing there. Every movement, every breath, belonged to me, and the thought hummed through every nerve. It was hungry,possessive, unrelenting, and it wouldn’t go away when I thought about her.
Then my gaze flicked to the corner of the room, to the fleeting memory of my cousin’s face, the way he had lingered around us too long, casually asking for information. And suddenly it all clicked—the ledgers, the missing money, the clues of the brownstone. He knew about all of it.
Rocco had mentioned something about Cosimo’s side of the family getting almost nothing from my grandma, which he had found odd. It was because my cousin—and probably his family—had been siphoning money from my grandparents.
And now he was taking it from me, all while feigning ignorance. I felt the heat of anger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.
