The hours fled on a vortex of stolen moments and stolen whispers.Sera learned the rhythms of Valerio's world—the late calls, the secretive meetings, the undertow of violence that never quite went away, even when he wrapped her in silk shrouds and kissed her until she forgot her own.She found the way he touched her when he thought she was asleep, rubbing his fingers against her skin gently as if he needed the reassurance that she was there.She found, most dangerously of all, how readily her heart softened to him.She was scared.And it thrilled her.This morning was no exception.Sera awakened to the scent of coffee—real coffee, dense and deep and bitter—and the gentle clinking of breakfast being laid out somewhere in the suite.The bed was unoccupied.She slid up from under the sheet, languidly, and let it slide down around her waist. Small spots erupted along the creases of her hips and thighs where Valerio's harsh hold had taken her the night before, a map of his own hunger etche
Valerio never left Sera's side.Not even for an instant.After the attack, he was a quiet ghost haunting her around the suite—observing, guarding, *staking* her out with his presence. It was dominating, yes. Smothering, certainly. But Sera realized it now.He wasn't trying to imprison her.He was trying to keep her alive.Breathing.His.The hours blurred. Sera hugged him on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, while Valerio made call after call in a language she didn't understand. His voice was suave, deadly. She heard snippets like *cleanup*, *loyalty check*, and *blood for blood*.Her stomach twisted.This wasn't over.It was only just beginning.Finally, Valerio ended the calls and approached her, pulling her into his lap as if she were fragile. As if she would shatter if he wasn't careful. He didn't speak. Didn't wonder if she was okay.He just held her.Long minutes went by between them.Finally, Sera leaned back far enough to study him.Valerio's face was set, unyielding. His
Sera awoke alone.The sheets were still warm, a residual echo of Valerio's body heat enveloping her, but he was gone.Panic stabbed her in the chest before she could reason it out.She pulled on one of his shirts—huge on her petite frame—and padded barefoot through the penthouse. The windows showed her a gray morning beyond, all mist and steel, which was appropriate to the heavy tension coiling through her stomach.She found him in the kitchen.Still shirtless, still lethal-looking, pacing as a low, angry conversation crackled through his phone."No, I don't care what he offers," Valerio growled into the phone. "If he hurts her, if he so much as *looks* at her, I'll bury him with the rest of them."A pause, and then he snapped, "Find out who else was involved. Every name. Every debt."He didn't wait for a response before he hung up.When he turned and saw her there—bare legs showing beneath his shirt, sleepy and worried—his face eased infinitesimally."You should be asleep," he growle
Rain fell outside Valerio's penthouse, pounding the sidewalk with a monotonous, muffled drum.Within, all was quiet.Sera huddled on the couch, wrapping Valerio's sweatshirt around her, still automatically spinning the ring on her finger, its edges slippery with dried blood. She still gazed in the direction of the corridor that Valerio had led his brother Luca an hour before.He'd said he'd discuss with them after he inspected Luca's injuries. Said he'd decide on their next course of action.But the silence stretched on.Thickening.Like a collective hold of breath by the entire world.Sera's nerves unraveled by the second.Then, she finally heard footsteps—two pairs of them—descending the hallway.She remained still as they walked into the living room.Valerio led the way, his arm wrapped tightly around a man who was his mirror image. Dark hair, darker eyes, same fierce beauty — but where Valerio was all hard lines, Luca seemed to have been battered and roughhewn.He was leaner, brui
The air in the morning was wet with mist and the smell of rain on stone.Sera leaned against the penthouse balcony railing, wrapped in a heavy sweater Valerio had tossed over her bare shoulders before he disappeared to take a call. His warmth still clung to the fabric, calming the nervous thrum in her chest.She placed a hand across her stomach, feeling the barest quiver there.She was going to be *his wife.*God, it didn't even feel real.Somewhere deep inside, the girl she used to be—the one who lived on the quiet, kept her head down, played by the rules—shrieked in anger that this was insane. Panicked.But that girl wasn't hers anymore.Sera had been broken.Remade.And she was doing this.Doing *him*.Even if it meant entering a realm of darkness, a life balanced upon the blade of a knife.Particularly due to that.Valerio did not love in halves. He consumed, devoured, guarded with a fierceness that scared and exhilarated her in equal measure.She wanted it.Wanted *him*.There we
The bass beat pounded like a heartbeat beneath the crimson brocade shadows of *The Crimson Room*. Smoke drifted along the darkened room, weaving with perfume, sweat, and decadence. Valerio Moretti leaned in the back of the VIP club, his hand wrapped around a glass of black whiskey, unmoving.Partygoers were around him, society's elite losing themselves in excess as if they had no fear of death. Which was appropriate.They did not know that he was there.Valerio was death in a specially tailored suit. No one breathed in that club without his permission. The owner knew it. The girls knew it. Even the bartender handed him his drinks without meeting his gaze.And yet…His gaze did not leave the stage.A new girl had appeared in the limelight.She did not dance like them. Did not stalk, did not strike. She was frozen in place for a moment too long, blinking in the blinding light as though she didn't belong there. Her trembling fingers twitched ever so little at her hips, and when the music
They called her *Stella* on stage. Some manager had picked the name because it sounded like a porn star and was easy to scream over a deafening bassline. But when the lights went down and the music died and the glitter stuck to her skin like shame, she was just **Sera** again.Sera Devlin.Twenty-three years old. College dropout. Full-time stripper.Part-time liar.She hated this place. *The Crimson Room* pulsed with the stench of greed and desperation. Men sat in velvet booths, drinking themselves under at bourbon and lust. Women moved across the floor in sequins and high heels, red paint on their lips, eyes lifeless behind their lashes.And Sera? She danced.Horribly, she'd admit. She wasn't as cool as the other girls. She didn't know how to make her body promise anything. Her movements were stiff, unsure—like she was moving through something dirty and didn't want it to smear on her skin.And yet she came here. Night after night.Letting strangers look at her like they were hers. Le
Valerio Moretti hated waiting.He loathed being told no.And he sure as hell didn't appreciate the fact that ever since the evening he had the nerve to set foot in her dressing room, Sera Devlin had been taking up space inside his head like a forbidden prayer he couldn't suppress.She was hardly the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. But she was the most *untouched*. Even when she danced half-naked in front of drunk, salivating men, there was something about her that stayed locked away, behind those big, suspicious eyes.And he wanted to be the one to break that lock.To *own* whatever it was she kept hidden.He had not been able to get the image out of his head of how her breath caught as she had kicked him out.The manner in which she looked at him—not with fear, but with fire.Tonight, he needed more.He walked along the blood-red hallway of the nightclub with two of his guards. As ever, the door swinging open behind him shifted the mood. Bartenders straightened aprons and spat toothp
The air in the morning was wet with mist and the smell of rain on stone.Sera leaned against the penthouse balcony railing, wrapped in a heavy sweater Valerio had tossed over her bare shoulders before he disappeared to take a call. His warmth still clung to the fabric, calming the nervous thrum in her chest.She placed a hand across her stomach, feeling the barest quiver there.She was going to be *his wife.*God, it didn't even feel real.Somewhere deep inside, the girl she used to be—the one who lived on the quiet, kept her head down, played by the rules—shrieked in anger that this was insane. Panicked.But that girl wasn't hers anymore.Sera had been broken.Remade.And she was doing this.Doing *him*.Even if it meant entering a realm of darkness, a life balanced upon the blade of a knife.Particularly due to that.Valerio did not love in halves. He consumed, devoured, guarded with a fierceness that scared and exhilarated her in equal measure.She wanted it.Wanted *him*.There we
Rain fell outside Valerio's penthouse, pounding the sidewalk with a monotonous, muffled drum.Within, all was quiet.Sera huddled on the couch, wrapping Valerio's sweatshirt around her, still automatically spinning the ring on her finger, its edges slippery with dried blood. She still gazed in the direction of the corridor that Valerio had led his brother Luca an hour before.He'd said he'd discuss with them after he inspected Luca's injuries. Said he'd decide on their next course of action.But the silence stretched on.Thickening.Like a collective hold of breath by the entire world.Sera's nerves unraveled by the second.Then, she finally heard footsteps—two pairs of them—descending the hallway.She remained still as they walked into the living room.Valerio led the way, his arm wrapped tightly around a man who was his mirror image. Dark hair, darker eyes, same fierce beauty — but where Valerio was all hard lines, Luca seemed to have been battered and roughhewn.He was leaner, brui
Sera awoke alone.The sheets were still warm, a residual echo of Valerio's body heat enveloping her, but he was gone.Panic stabbed her in the chest before she could reason it out.She pulled on one of his shirts—huge on her petite frame—and padded barefoot through the penthouse. The windows showed her a gray morning beyond, all mist and steel, which was appropriate to the heavy tension coiling through her stomach.She found him in the kitchen.Still shirtless, still lethal-looking, pacing as a low, angry conversation crackled through his phone."No, I don't care what he offers," Valerio growled into the phone. "If he hurts her, if he so much as *looks* at her, I'll bury him with the rest of them."A pause, and then he snapped, "Find out who else was involved. Every name. Every debt."He didn't wait for a response before he hung up.When he turned and saw her there—bare legs showing beneath his shirt, sleepy and worried—his face eased infinitesimally."You should be asleep," he growle
Valerio never left Sera's side.Not even for an instant.After the attack, he was a quiet ghost haunting her around the suite—observing, guarding, *staking* her out with his presence. It was dominating, yes. Smothering, certainly. But Sera realized it now.He wasn't trying to imprison her.He was trying to keep her alive.Breathing.His.The hours blurred. Sera hugged him on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, while Valerio made call after call in a language she didn't understand. His voice was suave, deadly. She heard snippets like *cleanup*, *loyalty check*, and *blood for blood*.Her stomach twisted.This wasn't over.It was only just beginning.Finally, Valerio ended the calls and approached her, pulling her into his lap as if she were fragile. As if she would shatter if he wasn't careful. He didn't speak. Didn't wonder if she was okay.He just held her.Long minutes went by between them.Finally, Sera leaned back far enough to study him.Valerio's face was set, unyielding. His
The hours fled on a vortex of stolen moments and stolen whispers.Sera learned the rhythms of Valerio's world—the late calls, the secretive meetings, the undertow of violence that never quite went away, even when he wrapped her in silk shrouds and kissed her until she forgot her own.She found the way he touched her when he thought she was asleep, rubbing his fingers against her skin gently as if he needed the reassurance that she was there.She found, most dangerously of all, how readily her heart softened to him.She was scared.And it thrilled her.This morning was no exception.Sera awakened to the scent of coffee—real coffee, dense and deep and bitter—and the gentle clinking of breakfast being laid out somewhere in the suite.The bed was unoccupied.She slid up from under the sheet, languidly, and let it slide down around her waist. Small spots erupted along the creases of her hips and thighs where Valerio's harsh hold had taken her the night before, a map of his own hunger etche
Morning light dropped in soft gold on the room, lighting the chaos she'd left behind. Sera stirred, bed sheets tangled around her legs, muscles screaming in pain.But even before morning completely opened its eyes, before she'd even blinked, the memories hit her like a tidal wave.Valerio's mouth.His hands.The way he utilized her body as his tool, playing her until she broke apart into fragments for him.She shivered, pulling the sheet tightly around her. From somewhere in the suite, she could hear the low rumble of his voice on the phone. Business. Deals. Violence muttered just beneath the surface, the same as it ever was with him.Sera slipped quietly out of bed, her feet making soft bare footsteps on the cold marble floor. She found her robe crumpled at the foot of the dresser and slid it over her shoulders, belting the tie tightly around her waist as if it would shield her from the jumbled chaos in her chest.By the racket, Valerio was still working. Good. She needed space. Need
Sera sat on the edge of the opulent bed, her fists gripping the silk robe that cascaded loosely over her bare skin. The opulent room was quiet—too quiet. A malevolent kind of quiet, the kind that pressed against her chest like invisible fingers.The door groaned open.Valerio stepped in, black shirt hanging open partway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The air between them became heavy with tension, the air itself seeming to realize the seriousness of their desperation."You ran from me this morning," he growled, voice low. Smooth. Deadly.Sera stood up. "I needed space."His eyes went darker. "You don't get to run from me.""You bought my freedom and then stuck me in another cage."Valerio stalked toward her with the calm of a predator, each step measured. When he reached her, he didn’t touch—only stared, breathing her in. “This isn’t a cage. This is the safest place you’ve ever been.”“I don’t want safety,” she snapped. “I want control over my own life.”He tilted his head. “Then t
Sera awakened slowly, the silk sheets wrapping around her body like a second skin. Her body still hummed from the night before—their slow, lazy petting, the way Valerio had treated her like fragile glass, the intensity in his eyes as though he was afraid she'd disappear if he blinked.For once, there had been no command, no restraint on her wrists, no domination. Just. him. Bare. Honest.And it frightened her.She tossed on the bed, the satin sheet slipping down her bare shoulder. Valerio was seated on the edge of the bed, shirtless, broad shoulders tense, hands running through his dark hair as he stared at something distant.There was always something simmering beneath his silence—a tempest waiting to explode."You never sleep," she whispered, her voice still rough from sleep. and from the soft moans he had drawn from her last night.Valerio turned his head, and for an instant, his eyes softened. "Couldn't. Not with you beside me."A blush climbed her cheeks.She reached for the robe
Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains like a gentle promise. Sera awakened slowly beneath the silk sheets, her bare leg twined with Valerio's. She blinked sleepily, taking in the unfamiliar opulence of the bedroom—the velvet drapes, the minimalist black-and-gold decor, the subtle scent of his cologne permeated in the pillows.And him.Valerio.Still with her.Still there.She turned her head slightly and found him awake, propped on one elbow, watching her like she was something sacred. Something fragile. Something his hands had held all night and hadn’t broken.“Good morning,” he said, his voice gravelly and low, warm as the morning sun.Her heart fluttered. “You stayed.”“I told you,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face, “you’re the only one I’ve ever stayed for.”She swallowed. "That's not something I know how to deal with,"He leaned in, his lips grazing her temple. "Then don't deal with it. Just let it be."Sera didn't say anything, her eyes drifting to t