Mara stood by herself in her room, staring at the freshly installed heavy wooden door. Nico's men had replaced the broken frame within an hour. They had also cleaned the guard's blood from the floor until all that was left was a faint metallic smell.
But the memory of the violence remained in the air.
The antique clock on the wall read 7:47 PM, meaning she had four hours and thirteen minutes.
She walked to the window and pressed her forehead against the cold glass, watching the sprawling estate gardens disappear into the darkness.
'You've done this before,' she reminded herself. 'You walked down an aisle to pay your uncle's debt. You stood in a bridal suite with a corpse. You signed a contract with a man who pointed a gun at your head.'
This is just another transaction… another survival move.
Except this time, she wasn't being sold to a sixty-five-year-old man who looked at her like a business acquisition.
This time, it was Nico.
And that was somehow worse in a million ways.
Because when Don Gio had looked at her, she'd felt nothing. Revulsion, maybe. Fear, definitely. But nothing that made her pulse pound or her breath catch.
Nico was different.
Nico made her stomach tighten in knots. Nico made her feel things she had no right to feel for the lethal, dangerous man who was technically her dead husband's son.
She pulled away from the window and walked to the bathroom. She needed a shower to wash off the gunpowder, the blood, and the lingering, strong smell of antiseptic from the safe room.
'Stop overthinking it,' she told herself as she stepped under the scalding hot water. 'It's a contract. You signed it. You do this, you survive. You don't, you die.'
Simple.
Except absolutely nothing about Nico Ferrante was simple.
—
At 11:50 PM, Mara stood in front of her mirror.
She was wearing a simple black silk robe that Elena had left in the wardrobe. Her hair was down, falling in damp waves over her shoulders. Her face was pale, but her hands were steady.
'You've survived worse,' she whispered to her reflection. 'You'll survive this.'
She left her room and walked down the dark hallway toward the South Wing.
The estate was dead silent. The heavily armed guards stationed at the main corridors didn't even blink as she passed.
She reached Nico's heavy oak door at exactly midnight.
She raised her trembling hand to knock… but the door opened before her knuckles even brushed the wood.
Nico stood in the doorway, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
He wasn't wearing the bloodstained shirt anymore. He'd changed into tailored black slacks and a clean white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and untucked. You could faintly see the white bandage on his shoulder beneath the thin fabric.
He looked exhausted. And incredibly dangerous.
When he saw her standing there in nothing but a thin silk robe, his eyes went instantly dark.
His gaze travelled slowly from her damp hair all the way down to her bare feet and then back up again. His eyes paused on the deep V of her collarbone where the robe had slipped open, on how the silk hugged her hips, and on the rapid, pale pulse beating in her neck.
It wasn't the look of a man appraising a transaction.
It was the look of a man staring at a dangerous temptation… a man who realised he was looking at a fire he was supposed to control but suddenly wanted to burn in instead.
His jaw locked as he forcibly reined the dark hunger back in, hiding it behind the cold mask of the Mafia Don.
"You came," he said in a low voice.
"I signed a contract."
"You could have run."
"Where would I go?"
He stepped aside, inviting her in silently.
Mara walked in.
The room was massive. A king-sized bed dominated the space, covered in dark, expensive sheets that looked completely untouched.
There was a mahogany desk covered in legal papers and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city lights of the territory.
The lock clicked as Nico shut the door, sealing them inside the dim room. They stood there, the silence stretching between them.
"Drink?" he offered, walking to a side table where a crystal decanter sat.
"No."
He poured himself one anyway. Whiskey, neat. He took a slow sip, his dark eyes tracking her every movement over the rim of the glass.
"Nervous?" he asked.
"Should I be?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
He set the heavy glass down and walked toward her, moving with the terrifying, silent grace of a predator cornering its prey.
"On whether you've changed your mind."
Mara lifted her chin, refusing to step back. "I haven't."
"Good." He stopped directly in front of her. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. She inhaled the sharp scent of expensive whiskey, clean soap, and raw, intoxicating male musk.
"Because once we start this," Nico warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, "there is no going back."
"I know."
His eyes dropped to the silk tie resting at her waist.
"Take it off."
Mara's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the knot. She pulled it loose. The silk robe fell open and slid off her shoulders, pooling like black water at her bare feet.
Underneath, she was wearing a simple, thin black slip. It was meant to be functional, not seductive. But the way Nico's eyes dilated as he took her in made her feel like she was standing before him in sexy lace.
And then he saw the bruises.
Big, ugly purple and black marks wrapped around both of her pale upper arms… they were the violent handprints of the guard who had pinned her to the chair.
Nico went completely still.
The sexual tension in the room instantly froze, replaced by an aura of pure, suffocating violence. He clenched his jaw so tightly that a muscle twitched in his cheek.
His hand, which had been reaching for her waist, stopped in mid-air.
"Who did this?"
"The guard," Mara breathed, her heart hammering. "When he held me down for the doctor."
Nico's eyes stayed locked on the bruises. He reached out slowly, his large, warm fingers hovering just a millimetre over the darkest bruise on her left arm.
He didn't touch it.
He just stared at the proof that another man had put his hands on her.
"I shouldn't have just knocked him out," Nico said quietly. "I should have broken his hands."
He finally looked up at her face. The cold, calculating Don was completely gone. In his eyes was something else… something fiercely possessive… something primal and dark.
He stepped into her space, completely erasing the distance between them. One large hand slid to the nape of her neck, his fingers tangling in her damp hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard chest.
"Show me," he murmured against her ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down her spine.
"Show you what?" she gasped.
His hand tightened on her waist, his body pressing impossibly closer. "Show me what belongs to me now."
And then his mouth crashed down on hers.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft.
It was a claim.
It was the desperate, aggressive kiss of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was done holding back. His tongue swept past her parted lips, tasting like premium whiskey and absolute power.
Mara gasped into his mouth, her hands coming up instinctively to press against his chest.
But she didn't push him away.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his white shirt. She could feel his heart hammering wildly under her palms… just as fast and out of control as hers.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily in the quiet room.
"Last chance," Nico rasped quietly, his dark eyes searching hers, his chest heaving. "Walk out that door right now, Mara. Because if you stay, I am not stopping."
Mara stared up at him.
At the man who had pointed a gun at her head less than forty-eight hours ago.
At the man who had shielded her body with his own when bullets shattered the glass.
At the man who had just wanted to break another man's bones simply for bruising her skin.
She should walk out… she should run. But her feet didn't move. The fire he had started in her blood was burning too hot.
Instead of moving away, she reached up. Her hand slid to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as she pulled him back down to her.
"I'm not walking out," she whispered fiercely against his mouth.
And then she kissed him back.