ALESSANDRO
Power isn't just about the name you carry; it's about the silence that follows when you enter a room. I've spent my entire life cultivating that silence. My father built the foundation, but I am the one who keeps the walls from crumbling.
Everyone in this city whispers that it's Matteo doing the heavy lifting, but that's a fucking lie. I am the oldest. I am the heir. Yet, every time I hear his name, a cold chill settles in the base of my spine. It's the curse of being a Ricci…we don't just fear our enemies; we fear the shadows of our own brothers. I spent every night wondering if the next meal at the manor would be my last, or if Matteo's ambition would finally outweigh his loyalty. I needed to be faster. Stronger. Richer. Before the "Golden Son" decided he didn't want to share the crown anymore.
I didn't come to this front for the coffee. I came for the reports from the Valenti's underground operations. I needed a war chest. I needed enough leverage to stand my ground when the inevitable happens. In this family, you aren't an heir until you've survived the people who share your DNA.
As I walked in, the eyes of every lowlife in the room tracked my movement. The girls behind the counter scrambled, throwing their heads down in a synchronized bow. I didn't spare them a glance. My mind was too busy calculating the cost of betrayal.
Everything was going according to schedule. Until I felt it.
The searing heat of a spilled drink seeped through my tailored silk. I froze, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs…a reflex I hated. In our world, an unexpected touch usually meant a blade between the ribs.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I was just trying to go in there too, when…" a feminine voice gasped.
Lowlifes. I turned around slowly, my hand hovering near the piece tucked into my waistband. My guards had already swarmed her, pinning her to the floor. Idiots. They were showing off their "power" to a girl because they were too terrified to show it to me.
I looked toward the lead guard, raising two fingers. My face was a mask of cold fury, hiding the spike of adrenaline that still hadn't faded. He released the woman immediately. She stayed on the ground, stuttering apologies.
My main guard rushed to my side, his hands shaking. I leaned in, my voice a lethal whisper. "The next time you touch a woman without my permission, I'll have your fucking hand burned off. Do you understand?" I wasn't being a gentleman; I was reminding him who the Alpha was.
He swallowed hard, nodding.
"Now give me that fucking suit of yours," I commanded. It was cheap polyester, but I couldn't walk into a meeting with the Valentis looking like a failure.
I was about to turn away when I felt it again. Another splash. Another wave of liquid soaking into the guard's jacket.
The room let out a collective gasp. I felt a surge of genuine, bone-deep fear. Is this a hit? Is this how it starts?
In the blink of an eye, my control snapped. My hand clamped around her throat, slamming her against the nearest table so hard the wood groaned.
This bitch.
The air in my lungs turned to ice. My hand was a vice around her throat, the friction of her soft skin against my calloused palm only fueling the cold, jagged rage vibrating through my bones. Is this a hit? A distraction? My grip tightened, pinning her to the table so hard I heard the wood groan in protest. I didn't see a woman; I saw a threat, a clumsy lowlife who had the audacity to touch a Ricci…twice. I wanted to squeeze until the light left her eyes, until she realized that "accidents" in my world usually ended in a shallow grave. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, paranoid rhythm as I leaned over her, ready to spit a death sentence into her face.
But then, the silence of the room started to feel heavy, and my eyes began a slow, involuntary trek across the disaster I had pinned beneath me.
It started with her mouth. Her lips were stained a deep, bratty red and they were trembling, parted just enough for her shallow, panicked breaths to hitch against my skin. I watched the way her tongue darted out to dampen them, a desperate, pathetic move that made something dark and primal snap inside my gut. My anger didn't vanish; it just got filthy. I found myself wondering if she'd taste like the coffee she'd just ruined, or if she'd taste like the fear I was feeding her. I wanted to shove my thumb into that mouth to see if she'd bite or suck, to break that pretty little face until she forgot every apology she'd ever practiced.
My gaze dropped lower, and the lethal focus in my brain started to blur into raw hunger. The black silk of her gown had slipped, revealing the heavy, shaking curve of her breasts as they heaved against the fabric, fighting for the air I was holding hostage. I could see the faint blue veins beneath her translucent skin, pulsing with a life I suddenly wanted to claim in a much more intimate way. They were straining, the tips hardened by the cold…or maybe by the terrifying pressure of my hand on her neck. I wanted to rip that cheap silk right off her and see how she'd look marked up by my touch, her pale skin contrasting against the dark bruises I was already leaving.
By the time my eyes reached her waist and the dangerous flare of her hips pinned under the weight of my thighs, the "assassin" I was looking for had vanished. I was the heir to the most powerful family in the city, and I was getting rock-hard for a girl who couldn't even carry a tray. I hated her for it. I wanted to devalue her, to treat her like the trash she was, but the magnetic pull of her body was making my head spin.
Slowly, I began to pull back. I dragged my hand away from her throat, watching the angry red marks of my fingers bloom against her porcelain skin. I didn't step away, though; I stayed crowded over her, my shadow swallowing her whole as she gasped for the air I'd finally allowed her. I watched her rub her neck, her chest still heaving, her eyes searching mine for a mercy I didn't possess.
"Who are you?" I rasped, my voice sounding like I'd been swallowing glass.
She looked around like a lost puppy, pointing to herself. "I'm... me?"
I tilted my head, one eyebrow raised. I wasn't going to repeat myself, and the way she blinked at me told me she knew she was playing with a monster. I took a predatory step forward, closing the small gap I'd just created until our bodies were nearly flush again. I wanted to feel the vibration of her voice against my chest. I didn't utter a word, but she knew what I wanted. She felt the weight of my demand.
"I'm... I'm, I'm Seris," she whispered.
Seris. I leaned in until my nose brushed against her ear, the scent of her floral perfume and panicked heat hitting me like a drug. I didn't say another word, but the way I scanned her body told her everything. She might have started as a threat to my life, but as of right now, she was a much greater threat to my sanity.
"I'm Seris," she repeated, her voice a soft, broken vow that I intended to break.