Her tear-streaked face turns toward me, confusion mingling with grief.
“The elevator,” I explain. “We’ve unlocked it. Moretti is coming, and we need to give him the show he expects.”
I stand, pulling her to her feet. “They wanted a performance. They wanted to see you break me with seduction.” I tighten my grip, forcing her to look at me. “Let’s give them exactly what they want.”
A tremor runs through her. Even broken and betrayed, she is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen. The betrayal stings, but I understand. Forgiveness simmers beneath the rage, but first… punishment. Humiliation. She needs to feel the consequences of what she did.
My hands move to my jacket, shrugging it off. My gaze never leaves her face. I can see the tiny spark of desire flickering back to life despite everything. Good.
Next, my shirt. I unbutton it one at a time, revealing the scars that map my life. Her eyes follow the path of my fingers, and her breath hitches. She knows what’s coming.
“Strip,” I command, my voice low. “You’re with me, or against me. Your choice.” Blake shifts uncomfortably by the window. I don’t give a damn. Let him watch. Let Julian see. This is her punishment: to be laid bare, humiliated in front of witnesses. But it’s also my forgiveness, wrapped in dominance.
She hesitates, her hands trembling. Slowly, she reaches for the zipper of her dress. The fabric pools at her feet, revealing the lace that hugs her curves.
“Everything,” I rasp, stepping closer, my shirt hitting the floor. My cock strains against my pants, hard and aching with the need to bury myself inside her, to fuck away the betrayal until only we remain. Her bra comes off, her nipples pebbling in the cool air. She hooks her thumbs into her panties, sliding them down her legs. Naked now, glorious and trembling.
I lift her onto the desk like she weighs nothing, papers scattering. I step between her thighs, forcing them wide, my body shielding her from the elevator but not from Blake or Julian. Let them see her spread for me. Humiliation colors her cheeks, but her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails digging in.
“Look at you,” I murmur in her ear, loud enough for the room to hear. “Betrayed me, and still so fucking wet. You need this, don’t you? Need me to punish you.” My hand slides up her thigh, fingers brushing her clit just enough to make her gasp. She’s dripping, coating my fingers, and I bring them to my mouth, tasting her—sweet, salty betrayal that only makes me harder.
Her arms snake around my neck, her legs wrapping around my waist. Our bodies press together, skin on skin. From the elevator’s view, it’s a perfect distraction. But here, in this moment, it’s real—the heat, the hunger, the love twisted with punishment. She’s mine to humiliate, to forgive, to fuck until she shatters and reforms in my arms.
The elevator dings.
Showtime.
The doors slide open.
Blake is already moving, his weapon trained on the entrance, but the car is empty. A cold knot of unease forms in my gut. This is wrong. A feint. The trap I laid was too simple for them to walk into so blindly. My mind races, recalculating. Who else knows this office? Who else knows its secrets?Julian.
Before the thought can fully form, there is a soft click from across the room. A section of the mahogany bookshelf swings inward, revealing a hidden service passage—an entrance known only to my most trusted circle.
Dante Moretti steps out, not with the hurried caution of an assassin, but with the arrogant swagger of a king entering a conquered throne room. A triumphant sneer is on his face. He raises his gun, the black metal aimed squarely at my head.
I remain perfectly still, my body shielding Lea, my mind working furiously. Blake is at the window. He has an angle, but too far away. Fifty feet or more. Moretti is focused on me. One wrong move, one sudden flinch, and Lea is in the line of fire.
Moretti’s eyes rake over us, taking in the scene with relish. “And look at you. Brought down by a piece of ass, just like they all saidyou would be. The great Nico Varela, half-naked and distracted, ready to be put down like a dog. Alessandro warned you, didn’t he? Even your dead man, Marco. They told you this woman would be your end.”
He gestures toward Lea with his gun. “And you, sweetheart. Good performance. You had him wrapped around your finger.”
I feel Lea flinch behind me. I need to keep his focus on me. “You talk too much, Dante,” I say, my voice steady. “If you’re going to shoot, get on with it.”
He laughs, a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. This is for my family. For the humiliation you put my cousin through.” His eyes harden, the humor gone. “After you’re gone, I’ll take my time with her. Then I’ll take your territory, your accounts... everything. Your whole legacy, gone. Erased.”
He takes another step forward, raising his gun, aiming carefully down the barrel. I brace myself, my muscles coiling, ready to move, to do anything to get Lea out of the way, even if it’s the last thing I do.
A single, deafening gunshot cracks through the office, but it isn’t from Moretti’s weapon.
The triumphant look on his face vanishes, replaced by pure, uncomprehending shock. A dark, blossoming circle appears on the chest of his white shirt. He stumbles forward, his gun clattering to the polished floor. He looks down at his chest, then back up at me, his mouth opening in disbelief. He tries to speak, but only a wet, gurgling sound comes out. He collapses in a heap. Not dead but rendered defenseless.
The entire confrontation takes less than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime.
I look past Moretti. Blake’s still fifty feet away near the window, his posture steady, his weapon still raised, a thin curl of smoke rising from the barrel. His face is grim, but his aim was true. He didn’t hesitate. When my trap failed, Blake saw the threat and neutralized it. He saved my life with a single precisely placed bullet from an impossible distance. Who knew he was such a sharpshooter?
I disentangled myself from Lea, my first instinct being to pull her behind me, to shield her from the sight of the wounded man on the floor. I grab my jacket and wrap it around her trembling shoulders. My eyes meet Blake’s eyes across the room. The silence is heavy, broken only by Lea’s ragged breathing and the gasps from Moretti.
Slowly, I give Blake a single, deliberate nod. It’s more than acknowledgment. It’s more than approval. It’s redemption.
