Girl, You Slept with the Don

Montrelle City, Yannon

The music wasn't just loud—it was trying to kill my brain cells. After too many martinis, everything blurred.

The guy in front of me? Straight thirst trap. Tall. Broad. Sin in a black suit.

Gold-rimmed glasses—CEO or hitman, take your pick. Emerald eyes, unreadable and sharp. And those lips? Unfair levels of hot.

I wrapped my arms around him, breath reeking of bad ideas.

"Hey, handsome. You into sugar mommies? What's your rate?"

He looked older—ten years, maybe more—but I didn't care. I had cash. Enough to regret this later.

He didn't speak. Just stared. That look? Pure alpha. Cold and electric.

For a second, I actually wondered if he ran Montrelle or something.

Then his cologne hit—rich, dark, expensive.

But the fantasy died quick. No real power player would slum it in a place like this—just booze, hookups, and blackout regrets.

I ran my fingers down his chest, popped two buttons. My nails skimmed muscle—hard and warm. Under the strobe lights, his skin looked edible.

His chest rose. Adam's apple jumped. Skin flushed.

Then—snap. His hand locked around mine, rough and tight.

Voice low. Calm. Smirking.

"I'm expensive. You sure you can afford the risk?"

I froze. That voice was quiet yet unmistakably lethal, a low current of danger that didn't need volume to command the room.

For a second, I almost sobered up.

Then I remembered what happened three hours ago.

I'd gone to surprise my boyfriend—with cake. My ex-boyfriend.

Used my spare key. Walked into his mansion.

There he was. With my half-sister.

On the kitchen island. Naked.

Luciano Godino—the guy I thought I'd marry—was gripping Cecilia by the chest, slamming into her like a porn scene. "Oh, Cece... you filthy little minx... I'm gonna come..."

Her legs were locked around him, back arched, panting, eyes half-lidded. "Harder, baby... faster... please, I'm almost there..."

And yeah—they finished. Together. Right in front of me.

When the shaking stopped, they looked up.

I hurled the cake at his stupidly hot face.

"We're done."

So yeah—I hit the bar. Buzzing on rage and martinis. Decided to find someone. Hook up. Erase Luciano.

I stood on tiptoe, whispered in the stranger's ear, syrup-sweet, slurring, "Yeah. No matter the price—I can handle it."

His arm snapped around my waist. Before I could blink, his mouth crashed into mine.

The heat was instant. His lips were hard, hungry.

My eyes flew open—his stayed shut. All in.

His tongue slid against my teeth, forced my mouth open, then tangled with mine.

I couldn't breathe. Legs went soft. I melted.

It was fast. Too fast. My heart thudded like a warning bell.

But I didn't care.

My body was burning. Alcohol made it worse. Dizzy. Aching.

I reached for another button. Whispered, "Let's go upstairs."

No clue if he heard.

Next thing I knew—feet off the ground. His cologne hit hard as he carried me up.

In the room, he laid me out on cold white sheets. His eyes burned—hungry. Before I could blink, his mouth was on mine again.

But softer this time.

Forehead. Cheek. Corners of my lips. Then down—collarbone, chest. My breath hitched.

When his mouth brushed the most sensitive part of me, I jolted. Lightning up my spine. I grabbed a pillow, eyes wide, mouth open.

Then he kissed me again—deep, slow, sucking gently, tongue sliding against mine.

My legs tangled tight. I was soaked. Floating. Gone.

When he slid into me, I clenched. The sharp pressure made me flinch, but he moved slow. Steady. Let me adjust. Let it shift from pain to heat, to need.

His rhythm wrecked me. Deep. Controlled. Like he knew exactly how to break me open.

He kept pushing me to the edge. Again. Again. I couldn't take it. My body folded. At some point, I cried. Maybe begged him to stop.

And through the haze, he kissed the corner of my eye and whispered, voice low and dark—

"Too late. You're already mine."

We didn't stop.

Went at it almost all night.

By dawn, I passed out.

Didn't wake till noon. My whole body screamed. Bruises and bites everywhere.. Embarrassed, I covered my face.

I couldn't even look at him.

Panic hit. Regret followed. I slid out of bed, quiet as a ghost, desperate to vanish.

But I still looked back.

I grabbed my clothes. As I turned, I knocked something off the nightstand—his wallet.

My pulse spiked. I snatched it fast.

A gold business card slid out.

I froze.

[Lysandro Godino.]

[Chairman of Aegis Biotech.]

My ex's adoptive father.

The freaking Godfather.