Our eyes met across the room.
"You're awake," he said. Not quite a question.
"I couldn't sleep." The truth.
He moved toward me—predatory grace even when exhausted.
I should stand. Should move. But I was frozen on the couch, watching him approach.
He stopped in front of me. Close. Too close.
His hand reached out—I thought he'd touch my face. Instead, he grasped the edge of the couch beside my head, leaning over me, caging me in.
"Can't sleep? Or won't?"
His scent surrounded me: cologne faded, whiskey, something darker. Male. Dangerous. There was an edge to him tonight, a flash in his eyes as if hewantedresistance from me.
"Both," I whispered.
His gray eyes searched mine. "You're thinking too much. Calculating. Planning."
He was right. I was.
"Have you made your choice, Paola?" His voice was low, intimate. "About our... arrangement?"
I knew what he was asking. The one-week deadline. The consummation.
"It's only been one day," I managed.
"Six days left, then." His thumb traced my jawline—I hadn't even seen him move his other hand. "Time passes quickly."
My breath caught. His touch was electric, terrifying, addictive. I fought the impulse to correct him that it was nowfivedays, since it was after midnight.
"I'm not ready," I said. Honest. Vulnerable.
"You won't be ready in six days either," he said matter-of-factly. "There's no preparing for this, Paola. Only surrendering."
The wordsurrenderingsent heat through my body—wrong, unwanted heat.
He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing my ear: "Sweet dreams,moglie mia." My wife.
Then he was gone, walking toward the bedroom, leaving me trembling on the couch.
I sat in the darkness, heart pounding, body betraying me with desire I didn't want to feel.
Six days. Six days until my choice was made for me.
Unless I made it first.
CHAPTER 6
Cesare
The elevator climbed to the penthouse at 12:47 a.m. I leaned against the mirrored wall, tie loosened, jacket draped over my arm, exhaustion settling into my bones.
The day had been endless. Three hours with my capos reviewing territory reports. Another two analyzing Viktor's recent movements—new shipments, new alliances, new threats. Then damage control with business partners who'd heard whispers about wedding irregularities, reassuring them the Monti-Lombardo alliance remained solid.
All I wanted was scotch, silence, and sleep.
