LOGINSERENA’S POV
The words landed like a quiet blow against the liquor already warming my veins. “You shouldn’t be here, baby girl.” My head turned toward him so fast the room tilted once before steadying. The tumbler rested in his hand where he had taken it cleanly from mine. His eyes stayed fixed on me without apology or softness. The name “baby girl,” pulled something deep and long buried under my ribs. No one had spoken those two words to me in over fifteen years. The sound of them stirred an old playful ache I had not allowed myself to feel since the night everything changed. I forced the sensation down and focused on the man in front of me. The alcohol sat heavy enough to loosen my tongue and blur the sharper edges of tonight’s event, yet left me clear enough to track every shift of his posture and every breath he took. I was not gone. I knew exactly where I sat and what exactly was happening right now. “Who the fuck are you?” My voice came out low and rough from the whiskey. He set the glass down on the polished wood with deliberate care. “Someone who’s been paying attention longer than you realize.” The answer settled wrong between us, too calm and too certain. Suspicion flickered through the haze. I reached across the short distance and closed my fingers around the tumbler, tipping the rest of the liquid down my throat in one continuous pull. The burn chased the unease for a moment. I lifted two fingers toward the bartender. Another measure of amber liquid appeared without a single question. “Go away,” I said, my eyes fixed on the fresh glass. “I didn’t ask for company and I don’t want it.” He remained on the stool as if the seat had been waiting for him all along. “Sitting out here alone is a stupid idea, don’t you think? You know better than to make yourself a target.” I turned fully this time. Heat climbed my neck that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “What… what did you say?” His gaze never wavered. “You heard every word, baby girl. This place, this hour, this condition you’re in, none of it is safe for someone with your history.” The phrasing scraped against my nerves. I still hadn’t forgotten the humiliation that brought me here. I lifted the new glass and drank half of it without pause. “I don’t want your opinion or your warnings, Mr. Stranger,” I muttered, staring into the remaining liquid. “How about you leave me the fuck alone so I can celebrate my fucking birthday.” He chuckled but said nothing for two minutes as he watched me drink the remaining liquid. “He’s a jerk,” he muttered under his breath as he turned his head scanning the environment for something. “And you are a bigger jerk for letting a nobody ruin your day. Your father taught you more than that.” “My father? Wait?” I said looking up at him. “How do you know…” His voice cut through my words, low and firm. “We need to get out of here now.” I let out a short and bitter laugh, the sound scraped my throat. Then I set the glass down hard enough that the ice clicked against the sides and shifted on the stool until my knees brushed his. The liquor made me bold, and the ache in my chest made me reckless. My hand settled on his thigh without asking permission. “Why?” The question left my mouth crude and direct. “Do you want to fuck me?” I watched his face for every flicker of reaction. “Oh come on,” I teased, my voice dripping with lust and alcohol. “I know you want it as much as I want it.” His jaw tightened. Something darker moved behind his eyes while the muscle along his cheek flexed once. He stood up slowly, reached into the inner pocket of his coat, and dropped enough bills on the bar to cover everything I had ordered. His hand closed around my upper arm with steady pressure. “Come on, Princess.” I slid off the stool. The floor tilted under my heels before it steadied again. He guided me toward the rear exit instead of the main doors that faced the street. Cool night air struck the damp fabric of my dress the moment we stepped outside. The rain still fell in a fine continuous mist that beaded along my bare arms and shoulders. He did not lead me toward the brighter sidewalk. Instead he turned down a narrow alley that smelled of wet brick, and distant traffic. My heels clicked against the uneven ground as water pooled in the low spots. I pressed closer as we walked, my fingers trailing along the front of his coat and testing the solid line of muscle underneath. The alcohol and the leftover anger made my hands restless. I let them slide higher across his chest and felt the controlled rise and fall of his breathing. He did not push me away. A side door opened into a quieter building. Dim hallway lights cast long shadows across dark wood floors. A short corridor ended at a heavy door that he unlocked with a key already in his hand. The room beyond smelled faintly of clean sheets, polished wood, and the lingering chill of rain that had followed us inside. I barely registered the path that brought us there. The door shut behind us with a solid click that sealed the night outside. He turned me to face him, his both hands settled on my waist with firm possession. “Get some rest,” he whispered. There was something restrained beneath his calm, something that told me he wanted this as badly as I did. “I don’t want to rest,” I insisted, “I want you deep inside me.” He swallowed hard on nothing. “Do you understand what you’re asking for right now?” His voice stayed controlled yet rough. “Listen to me, if we continue past this point you will be making a mistake that will come to find you later. A mistake you might regret later.” I met his gaze without looking away. The haze sat in my blood but clarity remained sharp enough. I knew exactly what I was asking of him, the stupidity of my request. But for one night I just wanted to be reckless. “I don’t care.” I rose onto my toes and slammed my mouth against his. The kiss landed hard, all teeth, all the desire, and the sharp taste of whiskey shared between us. His hands tightened at my waist for half a second before he answered with equal force. I pushed the heavy coat from his shoulders. It hit the floor with a dull sound. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt as I began to unbutton them one by one while his mouth claimed mine again, deeper this time. The heat of his bare chest met my palms as the last button gave way. He lifted me without breaking the contact. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me the few steps to the bed. The mattress dipped under our combined weight. Cool air touched my skin when he dragged the soaked dress up and over my head in one continuous motion. The wet fabric landed somewhere behind him, his shirt followed a moment later. My palms mapped the heat and the hard planes of his chest as his mouth moved to the line of my throat and the sensitive place just below my ear. “Mhmmm…” I moaned as his teeth grazed that spot. His hands slid under the thin lace still covering my breasts, his rough palms mapping every curve as if he already knew the exact shape of me. I arched into the touch and chased the friction, my fingers threading into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. “Ohhh… fuck…” another sound escaped, half broken breath and half moan, when his mouth returned to mine and his thigh pressed between my legs. The last of my restraint burned away under the solid weight of his body and the deliberate way his hands explored. He pulled back just enough to look down at me. His dark gray eyes swept over my flushed skin, the rise and fall of my chest, and the way my lips parted for air. Something decisive settled across his features while the muscle in his jaw flexed once more. “Fuck… Princess.” Those words carried weight that filled the quiet room.SERENA’S POV Sixteen years of a carefully built life fit into three cardboard boxes and two suitcases. I sat in the quiet cabin of the private jet with my forehead resting against the cool window and watched clouds slide past in endless white. My legs trembled but I didn’t stand up. The flight from America to Italy took the better part of ten hours. Every minute carried me closer to the house where I had once known what safety felt like before fear and guilt packed me onto a plane at nine years old. I had built walls since then, thick ones. I answered my mother’s calls and my brother’s messages, yet I kept my father at a careful distance, not out of hatred. He had done what he believed was necessary to keep me alive. I simply no longer knew how to reach for him the way the younger version of me once had. The last time they had visited was two years ago and our conversation had ended in raised voices all because I refused to leave the life I had carved out for myself as a writer. I
SERENA’S POV “Arrrghhhh…!” I groaned as I opened my eyes, holding my head. I felt the fire under my skin, every muscle ached in places I had forgotten could hurt. My thighs throbbed, my hips carried a deep bruised tenderness, my breasts felt sensitive enough that the sheet alone made me flinch. For one blurred second I let myself hope and believe that last night’s events had been a dream, some nightmare marinated with pleasure from a total stranger. But then the soreness I felt brought me back to reality and the unfamiliar ceiling came into focus. The room smelled faintly of rain, clean sheets, and his semen that still clung to my skin. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. I remembered him, his face, the way he had looked at me in the bar. I remembered his low voice as he called me baby girl like the word belonged to him. I remembered the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body, and the way he had refused to stop until I came shamelessly. I turned my head. The other side of the b
STEFANO’S POV This isn’t supposed to happen. Not with her. Not with Serena De Luca. But here I was staring down at her as she lay stretched across the sheets in nothing but that thin lace bra, it’s delicate fabric doing nothing to hide the dark peaks of her nipples. They stood tight and flushed, pushing against the pattern of the lace as if they had been waiting for my mouth. She reached for her the waistline of her thin lace underwear and pulled it down her legs as she stared at me. She tossed the underwear aside and parted her thighs seductively, giving me the view of her bare pussy. Her breathing came quick and shallow while her eyes stayed fixed on me, open and inviting.“Having sex with someone like her is a mistake especially when she’s your….” I tried to caution myself under my breath, but I stopped myself. I knew deep down that this moment was a mistake. Every calculated part of me knew it. Touching her like this crossed a line that could never be walked back. We were neve
SERENA’S POVThe words landed like a quiet blow against the liquor already warming my veins.“You shouldn’t be here, baby girl.”My head turned toward him so fast the room tilted once before steadying. The tumbler rested in his hand where he had taken it cleanly from mine. His eyes stayed fixed on me without apology or softness. The name “baby girl,” pulled something deep and long buried under my ribs. No one had spoken those two words to me in over fifteen years. The sound of them stirred an old playful ache I had not allowed myself to feel since the night everything changed. I forced the sensation down and focused on the man in front of me. The alcohol sat heavy enough to loosen my tongue and blur the sharper edges of tonight’s event, yet left me clear enough to track every shift of his posture and every breath he took. I was not gone. I knew exactly where I sat and what exactly was happening right now. “Who the fuck are you?” My voice came out low and rough from the whiskey. H
SERENA’S POV“I don’t love Isadora,” Michael’s voice rang out as he kissed his mistress. “I never loved her. She’s nothing to me, other than a sex toy and a live-in maid.” For a moment, it felt as though my heart had stopped beating. He never loved me, really? For five years I stayed with him, for five years I loved and cared for him, but to him I was nothing but a live-in maid and a sex toy? Loss? That was what sat heavy in my chest as I replayed those words over and over again in my mind. I had carried that word “loss” since I was nine, when my grandfather’s body folded over mine and the bullets meant for me tore through him instead. It’s been sixteen years and I have never forgiven myself for that. Sixteen years had passed, but the guilt of that nine-year-old girl still lived somewhere inside me. The girl who had watched her grandfather take bullets meant for her. The girl who had spent years believing her family secretly blamed her for his death, even though none of them had ev







