The whiskey burns going down, but not enough. Not enough to cauterize the ache. Not enough to erase her.
Three shots. Four. Five.
I’ve lost count, and getting drunk isn’t doing a damn thing to wash away the taste of her. Aria’s gasps and whimpers when I pound her senseless are the real music to my ears.
I thought a night out in town could distract me. Help me get her out of my head. Soon, I’ll see her again.
With a lust for blood in her eyes.
And all I want is to direct that lust at me. To show her it’s more. To show her it’s love.
How the hell do I plan to do that? God only knows.
I slam the glass down on the bar, harder than necessary. The bartender slides another shot my way without a word.
Smart.
He recognizes a man on the edge when he sees one.
The club is alive around me, full of rich men and glittering women. In the private corners, the city’s most dangerous players conduct business over aged scotch. This is my world. My territory.
So why does it feel like I’m a stranger to myself?
Because I no longer know who I am without her.
Because she’s out there somewhere, planning my destruction with those beautiful, deadly hands that know exactly how to make me lose my mind.
Because she’s coming for me with an army, and part of me can’t fucking wait.
What the hell have I become? She weakens me.
An hour in, a bombshell blonde slides into the seat beside me like a fucking whisper—legs for days, pout painted cherry red, cleavage strategically on display.
“You look like you could use some company.”
The voice is honey and silk, designed to seduce. My type once. The kind I’d use to forget the world. But tonight, she smells like the wrong perfume.
“Not interested.”
“You haven’t even seen me properly yet.” She leans over and traces a finger over my arm.
Against my better judgment, I lift my eyes. She is stunning in that polished, artificial way that once would have had me bending her over the nearest surface. Platinum blonde hair falls in perfect waves past her shoulders. Her dress—if the scrap of black fabric can be called that—leaves nothing to the imagination. Smoky eyes, curves that scream availability.
“See something you like?” she purrs, shifting closer until her breast brushes my arm.
I study her face, waiting for the familiar hunger to kick in. The predatory satisfaction of a hunt about to begin. The dark thrill of possession and conquest.
Nothing.
Worse than nothing. Looking at her perfect, empty beauty makes my stomach turn with something dangerously close to revulsion.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my voice flat.
Her smile widens, victory sparkling in her blue eyes. “Candy.”
Of course it is.
“Tell me, Candy,” I lean closer, watching hope bloom across her features. “Do you know what it feels like to want someone so completely that every other person on earth becomes a pale imitation? To crave a woman’s touch so desperately that even looking at another makes you physically ill?”
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I—what?”
“No,” I say, straightening. “You don’t. Because if you did, you’d understand why this conversation is over.”
Aria.
Always fucking Aria.
The club’s too hot. My shirt clings. My blood’s crawling.
I drop a hundred on the bar and walk away, leaving her gaping like a landed fish.
I move toward the private elevator that leads to the club’s exclusive upper level. The space reserved for some quiet conversation.
Or just quiet.
The penthouse lounge is a sight to see. Here, looking out at the panoramic view of the city, I usually feel like I’m the king of the world.
Tonight, I hardly notice the sight.
I need to find a spot where no one talks to me. I move aimlessly. I need air, space, something that isn’t blonde and vapid.
And that’s when I see her.
Time stops. The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and suddenly I can’t feel my fingers or toes, only the wild hammering of my heart against my ribs.
Aria sits alone in the far corner booth, and she’s dressed like sin incarnate.
The dress, black as midnight and cut to kill. A plunging neckline that showcases the perfect swell of her breasts, the fabric so thin it might as well be paint.
But it’s the slit that makes my mouth go dry—starting at her ankle and climbing all the way to the top of her thigh, offering glimpses of skin that I’ve kissed, tasted, claimed.
Her hair falls in loose waves over one shoulder, and when she shifts in her seat, crossing those incredible legs, the slit parts wider. I catch a flash of lace—black, delicate, the kind of underwear designed to drive a man insane.
What the fuck is she thinking, dressed like that in public? In my territory?
The possessive rage that roars through me is immediate and overwhelming. Every man in this room has seen what I’ve seen. Wanted what belongs to me. The thought of their eyes on her, their minds undressing her, makes my vision tint red around the edges.
She’s pretending not to notice me. Sipping whatever mocktail like she doesn’t feel my presence burning across the room. But I see the way her spine stiffens, the careful stillness that means she knows exactly where I am.
I cross the room with predatory grace, ignoring the conversations that die in my wake. Power radiates from me in waves, marking my territory, marking her. By the time I reach her booth, the surrounding area has cleared like I carry the plague.
Good.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say, sliding into the booth across from her without invitation.
She doesn’t look up from her glass. “Marco.”
Just my name, spoken like a curse. But I hear the slight tremor beneath the ice, the way her breathing has changed.
“You’re far from home, wife.”
“I’m exactly where I belong.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “This is neutral territory. Even you can’t object to that.”
“I’m not objecting to your presence.” I lean back, letting my gaze rake over her slowly, deliberately. “I’m objecting to your outfit.”
Her chin lifts in that defiant gesture I know so well. “I wasn’t asking for permission. If it bothers you, don’t look—because I’ll wear whatever I damn well want.”
“Will you? Even if it drives every man in here to distraction? Even if it makes them think they might have a chance at what’s mine?”
“I’m not yours anymore.”
“Yet you carry my child. Mine.”
“I’m not yours,” she hisses.
The lie hangs between us, transparent as glass. I can read her body like my mind—the way her pulse flutters at her throat, the slight parting of her lips, the almost imperceptible press of her thighs together.
“Aren’t you?” I shift forward, claiming more space. “Then why are you wet right now?”
Color floods her cheeks, beautiful and telling. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I? Prove it.” I lower my voice to that register that makes her shiver. “Uncross your legs, Aria. Show me how unaffected you are.”
Her hands tighten around her glass, knuckles white with strain. “Go to hell.”
“I’ve been there. It looks remarkably like watching you walk away from me.” I signal the waitress for a drink, never taking my eyes off Aria’s face.
“Tell me something, love. After I left the other night, what did you do?”
“Went to sleep.”
“Liar.” The scotch arrives, and I take a slow sip, watching her over the rim.
I lean over the table, my breath warm against her ear. “Did you touch yourself, Aria?”
She stills.
“Did you slide those thin little fingers between your thighs, moaning my name into the dark, pretending I was the one making you come?” I whisper, close enough to feel her inhale. “Did you miss how deep I fucked you until you screamed my name?”
She turns her face slowly, eyes a war zone. But her cheeks are flushed red, telling a different story. “Get out of my face, Marco.”
I smile.
That’s not nice.
“Say you didn’t think about me. Say you didn’t picture my cock stretching you while you played with that tight little pussy.”
Her breath hitches. Her thighs shift. Bingo.
“You don’t own me,” she says, but her voice is breathy.
“No? Then why do you still clench when I speak? Tell me, did you miss how thick my fingers were? How they filled you up, curved just right to hit that spot that makes you scream my name?” I let my voice drop to a whisper, intimate as a caress.
“Stop!” she whimpers. Her hand flies up—maybe to slap me again, maybe to push me away. I catch it mid-air, wrap her wrist in my palm.
“You can lie to yourself all you want,” I murmur, dragging her hand down my chest, letting her feel exactly how hard I am. “But your body remembers.”
She jerks away, standing like she needs distance, but I step into it. Corner her against the velvet and lean in.
“Next time, I won’t just whisper in your ear. I’ll fuck the fight right out of you. And you’ll thank me for it.”
She’s breathless. Shaking. Wanting.
And she knows it.
“Oh, and one more thing.” I lean closer, until our faces are inches apart. “You want to play war, Aria? Fine. But when it all crashes down—your army, your pride, your lies—you’ll remember exactly who you were running from… and who you were always running back to.”
Fire blazes in her eyes. “I belong to no one.”
I let my gaze drop to her lips, then lower, to the exposed skin of her throat. “Every breath you take, every beat of your heart, every gasp when you come—it’s all mine.”
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I’m also right, and you know it. That child you’re carrying? Mine. That war you’re planning? A tantrum because you can’t accept what you feel for me.”
I throw bills on the table. “And when this is over, when you’ve exhausted yourself trying to hurt me, I’ll be waiting to remind you.”
I lean down, my lips brushing her ear as I deliver my final words. “Choose wisely, Aria. Because the next time I come for you, you won’t be leaving my bed again.”
I straighten, drinking in the sight of her—flushed cheeks, rapid breathing, eyes dark with desire she refuses to acknowledge.
Then I walk away, leaving her in that booth with her pulse racing and her body betraying every word of denial that’s ever left her lips.
Because I know something she hasn’t figured out yet.
This war isn’t about justice or vengeance or the sins of our fathers.
It’s about two people too stubborn to admit they’d rather die than live without each other—too proud to beg, too broken to yield, too in love to stop.
And soon, one way or another, we’re going to settle this once and for all.
