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She’d had sex with Mattia Esposito. It had been wild and frantic, over almost before it had begun, but in the moment had felt as necessary as breathing.

She’d known she was playing with fire, but had no idea the greatest danger had lain in herself.

How could she have let that happen? She’d felt the chemistry swirling between them and had stupidly thought she could control it for her own ends.

God, she wanted to cry, and Elvira never cried. She remembered sobbing once as a small child when she’d tripped over and ripped her knee open, but that had been caused by pain. The only other time had been at her beloved grandmother’s funeral. Two times she’d cried. Just two times, and only one of those was because of emotion, and now she was filled with so much emotion that all she wanted was to throw herself on the bed and weep to let it all out.

She was a traitor to her family. She’d had sex with Mattia Esposito, and it had been the most intense and incredible experience of her life. Even now, ripples from her climax still fizzed through her skin and veins. Even now, she was gazing into his green eyes with his body close enough for his heat to vibrate through her cells, and her heart was smashing against her ribs.

Oh, God, this was the man whose parents had killed her parents, a member of the family – the head of the family – she’d dedicated her whole life to bringing down. How could she have let it happen? She should turn the gun she had pressed against his heart and place it on her own.

She would never forgive herself.

Never for a second had she meant it to go so far.

He hadn’t either. He hadn’t wanted any of this. Mattia had pulled himself together quicker and more effectively than she had, but the madness that had found him inside her had been in them both.

She was supposed to have shot his arm or leg and taken the gun from him, not have sex with him. She’d had her chance. Her second chance. Third chance. And she’d blown it. Blown them all.

For whatever reason, she couldn’t shoot him. She just couldn’t. Even now, her finger was on the trigger, but the safety catch was on.

He smiled crookedly and gently ran her own gun down her cheekbone like a caress. “You made your gun fingerprint-activated?”

She jerked another nod. “Do it,” she whispered hoarsely. “There’s one bullet left. Try and shoot me in the shoulder. I won’t fight or try to stop you.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he closed them.

When he looked back at her, a hardness had come into his stare, and he slid the muzzle down her cheek and neck, slowly taking it over her collarbone until he reached her shoulder.

“Do it,” she repeated.

He pressed it into her flesh.

“Pull the trigger,” she urged.

“You pull the trigger.”

She shook her head and lowered her hand holding the gun to her side. “We both know I can’t. Not like this. The question is, can you? If I’m telling the truth, nothing will happen. If I’m lying, I’m back under your control.”

His features tightened and contorted. His body tensed.

“Do it,” she urged.

The contortion of his face twisted into something ugly, and suddenly the muzzle was no longer pressing into her skin. Mattia whipped it away and shot at the same poster she’d put a hole in.

Nothing happened.

But everything happened.

Their eyes locked back together.

The silence that followed was filled with the stark realisation that neither of them could shoot the other.

This was stalemate, Mattia thought grimly. Neither of them could win.

They could make all the moves they wanted, but neither of them was capable of taking the shot that would give them victory over the other.

Gazing into Elvira’s eyes, he thought hard and quickly. Thinking about why he couldn’t shoot her would have to wait. It was the endgame he needed to think of. If he lost sight of that, he might as well give up, not just on himself but on his family and his father’s legacy.