His control snaps. His thrusts become faster, deeper, more driving. The bed creaks beneath us. The pace turns punishing, perfect. Each slam of his hips sends a shock of pure bliss through my nerves. I can feel him everywhere—in my cunt, in my bones, in my fucking soul. The coil inside me winds tighter and tighter.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice a ragged whisper. “Come on my cock. Let me feel you.”
It breaks. The orgasm doesn’t crest; it detonates. A white-hot explosion that seizes my body, making my cunt clamp around his cock in rhythmic, squeezing pulses. I cry out, a sound torn from my throat, my vision blurring. I’m shaking, clinging to him, as the pleasure ravages me.
He follows. His rhythm falters, turns ragged. A deep, final thrust, and he groans, a sound of pure release. His body shudders against mine, his heat flooding me. He collapses forward, his forehead pressing into the pillow beside my head, his breath hot and ragged in my ear.
“You’re mine,” he mutters into the sweat-slick skin of my neck. “Always.”
I don’t answer. My hand finds his hair, stroking it. The silence stretches, filled only with our breathing.
Several hours later, the house has settled into the deep, heavy silence of the pre-dawn.
Rafael is asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even, his right arm draped over my waist even in rest. He looks peaceful. He looks like a man who finally thinks he’s safe.
The vibration starts.
It’s low, a mechanical snarl coming from the jewelry case on the vanity. I slide out from under Rafael’s arm, my heart already hammering a frantic rhythm. I move like a ghost, my bare feet silent on the rug, and slip into the adjoining dressing room—the one he’s redecorating for me.
The burner phone is glowing.
I open the encrypted file, and my blood turns to ice. It’s a live feed. Laura.
She’s being escorted into a guarded compound—heavy steel gates, men with rifles, the grey stone of a fortress I don't recognize. She looks small. She looks terrified. She’s clutching her doll to her chest as she’s led into a building.
The timestamp is current. 04:14 AM.
He’s moving her. He’s showing me that the clock is ticking.
I look at the device, my thumbs hovering over the keypad. My father expects the final verification for the Summit. He expects the entry codes and the guard rotation details I have.
I think about the way Rafael looked at me when he said "I love you." I think about the way he moved in front of that bullet. I think about the room he’s building for me.
I can't do it. I won't be the reason his heart stops.
My hands are steady now, a cold, clinical calm settling over me. I start writing but I alter the details. I change the room number of the Summit. I shift the security rotation by twenty minutes—a gap that doesn't exist. I swap the entry codes for a set that will trigger a lockdown instead of an opening.
It’s a masterpiece of falsified intel. It looks authentic. It carries the weight of the trust Rafael gave me, but it’s a trap. A trap for my father.
I compile the data and hit Send.
Transmission Confirmed.
The screen goes dark. I stay there in the middle of the empty dressing room, the air cold against my skin. I’ve done it. I’ve chosen a side. I’ve betrayed the man who raised me to save the man who loves me.
Salvatore is going to kill me. If he finds out... if this fails... he’ll kill us both.
But for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of the consequences. I’m a woman who has found something worth fighting for.
I stay there for several minutes, staring at the blank screen, before I close the device and hide it back in the velvet lining. I walk back into the bedroom and slide under the covers, into the warmth of the man I just saved.
Rafael stirs, his hand finding my waist again, pulling me closer.
"Gia?" he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
"I'm here," I whisper, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "I’m right here, Rafael. I’m not going anywhere."
I close my eyes, listening to his heartbeat, and for the first time in years, the countdown in my head isn't counting down to a death.
