chapter 4

Pedro’s POV

What the fuck.

I paced the spacious, well-furnished guest room like a caged animal, hands shoved deep in my pockets. Michelle. Little Michelle—who wasn’t little anymore. The way she’d thrown her arms around me earlier… her body pressed so tightly against mine, soft curves where there used to be straight lines, the sweet floral scent of her hair flooding my senses. I’d nearly lost my damn mind. I could still feel the press of her breasts, the warmth of her skin through thin fabric. For one insane second I’d wanted to bury my face in her neck and taste every inch of her.

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, right hand scrubbing over my jaw.

Get a grip, Pedro. Dante is like a brother to you. If he ever found out the thoughts running through your head right now, he’d put a bullet between your eyes and you’d deserve it.

“Michelle…” I muttered under my breath, biting my lower lip hard enough to hurt.

Images flashed: pale skin glowing under the hallway light, delicate collarbones, the way her small frame had molded against me like she belonged there.

Stop. She’s still a kid in their eyes. And you? You don’t do love. You fuck. That’s the rule. Keep it that way.

A sharp knock at the door snapped me out of it.

“Sir? Dinner is ready. They’re all waiting for you.”

I cleared my throat. “Alright. Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

At the dining table the mood was light—laughter, clinking glasses, Dante and his wife trading playful jabs about business deals and old stories. Michelle sat across from me, mostly quiet. Every few minutes her eyes flicked up, caught mine, then darted away. Each glance felt like a match struck against dry tinder. I tried to act oblivious, focusing on my plate, but my skin prickled every time her gaze lingered.

The conversation lulled for a moment.

Dante broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, Pedro… When are we meeting Mrs. Pedro and little Pedro?”

Everyone laughed. I forced a chuckle.

“Not sure that’s on the horizon anytime soon,” I said.

“Oh come on,” Dante said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not getting any younger, my friend. Find someone who gets on your last nerve every single day.” He shot a fond look at his wife. “Trust me, it’s the secret to a long life.”

“How dare you!” she laughed, swatting his arm.

“But I’m right. You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

They bickered affectionately while Michelle twirled spaghetti around her fork, stealing another glance at me. I gave her a tight smile and looked back at my food.

“Seriously, Dante,” I said, “I’m not ready to settle down. Drama is the last thing I need right now.”

Mrs. Dante chuckled. “Really now?” Then her expression softened. “Well, Michelle’s birthday is this weekend. We’d love for you to stay until then.”

I glanced at Michelle. She was pushing food around her plate, suddenly very interested in it.

“Oh, that's right, Dante told me.” I smiled and looked at Michelle “I might still be around. We’ll see.”

Michelle set her fork down. “I’m done. I’m going up to my room.” She leaned over, kissed her father on the cheek, then her mother. As she passed me she paused, bent down, and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek—too close to the corner of my mouth. I froze. For a split second I imagined turning my head, catching her lips, tasting her.

“Good night, Uncle Pedro,” she said sweetly. “Good night, everyone.”

Then she was gone, hips swaying lightly as she climbed the stairs.

I barely tasted the rest of my food.

Later, after a long shower, I sat on the bed in sweatpants, laptop open, trying to bury myself in emails and spreadsheets. It wasn’t working. My mind kept replaying that good-night kiss, the way her breath had brushed my skin, how her eyes had sparkled when she smiled at me.

Fuck. I was getting hard just thinking about it.

A soft knock at the door made my heart slam against my ribs.

I set the laptop aside, walked over, and opened it.

Michelle stood there in soft cotton pajamas, hair loose around her shoulders, looking impossibly young and impossibly beautiful. Innocent. Dangerous.

“Michelle,” I said, glancing down the hallway. “What are you doing here? If anyone sees— come in here.”

She didn’t answer. I grabbed her wrist, tugged her inside, and shut the door quickly.

She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped tightly in front of her, eyes on the floor.

I walked closer to her. “Are you okay?” I asked, gently lifting her chin so she’d look at me.

“Can I… sleep here tonight?” she whispered. “Just like when I was little?”

My brain short-circuited. “What?

Michelle—”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said quickly. “Please? Just tonight.”

I exhaled hard and sat on the edge of the bed, motioning for her to sit beside me. Which she did.

“You’re not a little girl anymore,” I said, voice low. “If your parents find out you're here… God knows what they’d think. What they’d think of me.”

“But we used to do this all the time,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder, small hand curling around my forearm. “I just… I miss you.”

Her warmth, her scent—it was too much. My body reacted instantly, painfully. I had to clench my jaw to keep from groaning.

“Michelle,” I said roughly, “I can’t—”

“Please, Uncle Pedro. I won’t be of any trouble. I promise.

Every rational part of me screamed to send her back to her room.

Every other part won.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Stay. But behave.”

She smiled—small, relieved—and slipped under the covers without another word.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, escaping to the bathroom.

The door clicked shut.

I leaned against the sink, breathing hard, my cock rock hard again.

Get it together, Pedro. This isn’t right.

She might still be innocent. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be thinking about her, let alone touching her.

She was too pure for the filthy thoughts running through my mind—what I wanted to do to her, how I’d take her. No. Stop it, Pedro.

I stayed in the bathroom longer than I should have, trying to cool down. When I finally returned to the bed, she was already asleep.

God… she looks like a princess. A beautiful, untouchable princess who didn’t belong in my dark, fucked-up world. Her skin was so pale, so delicate. That kind of innocence was rare—especially at the edge of turning nineteen.

I slid quietly under the sheets. The moment I settled, she stirred, letting out a soft little moan as she turned toward me.

“ Uncle Pedro…” she whispered, eyes still closed, voice sleepy and sweet. “Please stay. I want you here for my birthday.”

I swallowed. “Of course, my dear,” I murmured.

She smelled so good—fresh, clean, brand new. Like something I’d never tasted before. I was used to experienced women, the kind who knew exactly how to satisfy the darker needs I had. Michelle could never give me that. She wasn’t built for it.

That was supposed to be the biggest reason to stay away.

So why the hell did she pull me in like this? There was something about the way she smiled, the way she looked at me… it made me want to pin her down and ruin every bit of that innocence.

Fuck.

Jolting images of her submitting to me, moaning my name as I took control, flooded my mind.

No. It could never happen.

She was my friend’s only daughter. Dante would rather die than let a monster like me anywhere near her.