Alessandro's grip around her waist remained firm. He stared down at her with a slow, dangerous smirk.
Then, unable to hold it back, Elena moaned his name softly — "Alessandro…" — the sound slipping out like a confession.
He smirked against her skin, lips brushing her neck, and didn't let her go even an inch.
She struggled to speak, her voice shaky. "Alessandro… please…"
Her eyes darted desperately toward the hallway.
And there he was.
Matteo De Luca stood at the end of the corridor, watching them with a faint, knowing smile on his face.
Elena went bright red. She tried pushing Alessandro away harder, panic flooding her system.
"It's your father," she whispered frantically through whimpers. "He's watching…"
Alessandro's smirk only deepened. He leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear so only she could hear.
"What do I care?" he whispered darkly. "In my father's eyes, you are my woman."
Elena's breath hitched. "But this is very unnecessary…"
