Chapter 5: The Master’s Move

**Stefano’s POV**

When I walked into the office later that night, the silence swallowed the sound of the lock clicking shut. I ripped the knot of my tie loose, and poured a shot of bourbon, watching the amber liquid hit the glass, desperate for the familiar burn to settle the empty feeling in my chest.

Then I heard the click of heels behind me.

Lucia Romano.

​She walked in, and the air instantly filled with the heavy scent of her perfume. Her red dress didn't just hug her, it was painted onto her body, riding high on her hips. 

I looked at her, my face showing no emotion. "You did well.”

Lucia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the back of the chair. "You told me to warn you the moment Elena went out alone, I did what you asked." She clenched her jaw and held my gaze, her eyes blazing with anger. "She was supposed to die. So why is she still breathing?"

The anger in her words were sharp, but underneath it, I heard the hurt, the jealousy she couldn’t hide.

I watched her silently, letting the silence grow between us. 

She shifted her weight, and I could see the question in her eyes, the way she wanted me to say something, anything.

Are you truly going to marry her? After everything I’ve done for you? After all we’ve been through? Lucia’s eyes teared up, and her voice broke on the last word. 

“What we’ve been through,” I said flatly, “was never about love.”

She moved closer, her eyes filled with a fierce look. “You said she was nothing. You said she was supposed to die.”

"She was never supposed to die.” ​I held her gaze, my voice flat and steady. "I just needed Armando to be afraid. Elena is useful to me.”

"And me?" Her voice dropped, shaky now. 

​I set my glass down and stood. 

“You’re mine, Lucia. But you don’t get to decide what that means.”

She stared at me, her face tight with pain. "You always think ten steps ahead," she whispered, "but do you even feel anything anymore?"

​I smiled faintly. “Feelings always get in the way.”

​Her fingertips traced the line of my jaw. “Maybe, but it’s what keeps us human.”

I caught her wrist and drew her closer. “You knew what this was.’’ I reminded her ‘’You wanted power, too.”

​“I wanted you,” she whispered.

The room fell silent, thick with tension. I noticed it, the quick flash of desire in her eyes.

“Make love to me, Stefano.”

​I leaned in close, letting my breath ghost over her lips. “Lucia, you know I don’t make love, I fuck!”

She surged forward, crashing her mouth against mine, her anger spilling into it, her hands grabbing my shirt. 

Her teeth sank into my lip, hard, like she wanted to punish me for what she could not change.

She pressed against me, her body tense, a mix of anger and desire. Her hands fumbled with my buttons, nails scratching my skin and leaving sharp stinging lines.

A low growl escaped me as I grabbed her waist, my fingers sinking into the delicate skin above her hips. I turned her with enough force that she gasped when her back hit the desk.

Papers scattered everywhere, their rustling sound loud in the quiet room..

She barely had time to react before I was on top of her, pinning her beneath me, trapping her in my arms. The wood dug into the backs of her legs, my erection grinding against her inner thighs.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her nails raking down my chest. “I hate you.”

I chuckled, my lips lightly brushing her ear.  “No,” I whispered, “You don’t. 

She moaned, a sound torn from her throat. My hands moved up to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, my thumbs circled her stiffening nipples. She responded by arching into my touch, lifting her hips off the desk, craving more contact, craving me.

My free hand slid down, gathering the fabric of her dress around her waist and exposing the black lace of her thong. The scent of her arousal hit me hard – sweet and musky. My fingers traced the damp fabric, teasing its edge before slipping underneath, finding her wet, swollen, and so fucking ready for me.

Her face twisted as a moan escaped her lips; her eyes shut tight, and her head tilted back slightly. Her fingers gripped my hair and pulled so hard that my scalp stung. “Stop teasing,” she demanded, her voice hoarse.

I ignored her. Instead, I pressed two fingers inside her, curling them just right, just enough to make her walls tighten around me, her hips jerked against my hand.

​“You think you get to decide when I fuck you?” I hissed, my breath hot against her skin. “You think you’re in charge here?”

Before she could retort, I pulled back my fingers, leaving her feeling empty and aching. 

She snarled, her legs wrapping around my waist and her heels digging into my ass, trying to pull me closer. “Stefano…”

​I ripped the condom wrapper open and, with a quick pull, had it on. I didn't wait; I drove my hips forward in a sharp thrust, the thick, ready head of my cock meeting the slick, wet warmth of her entrance.

​“Please,” Lucia pleaded. Her breath hitched, and her body tensed.

I didn't keep her waiting. I slid inside her in one slow, deliberate stroke, filling her inch by inch until I felt her stretched tight around my cock.

Her breathing turned ragged. “Fuck,” she gasped, her whole body trembling against mine.

‘’Mmm… Ahh…’’ she moaned loudly, nails digging into my back, “Yes! Oh, God, yes…”

In that instant, Elena flashed into my mind — her fierce glare, those eyes burning with challenge. 

Why the hell was she haunting my thoughts now? 

I moved desperately, each deep thrust an attempt to drive Elena's memory from my mind.

“I love you so much, Stefano,” Lucia moaned.

I froze. The word ‘Love’ caught me off guard, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. 

Then, with a frustrated surge, I pushed forward again, harder and with greater urgency, trying to drown out the sound.

She was close; I could feel it in the tight tension of her legs and her frantic tug at my hair.

Immediately, she came hard, a scream ripping from her, her walls pulsing around me, as her entire body shuddered.

I groaned in response, burying myself deeper, unable to hold back as my own shattering orgasm tore through me.

When it was over, she sat on the edge of the desk, breathing hard, her hair falling over her face. 

I slowly buttoned my shirt, taking in the sight of her chest rising and falling.

She lifted her head, meeting my gaze, her eyes filled with sadness. “When it’s over,” she said softly, her voice laced with hope, “Once you’ve ended them, will you really be mine? No more pretending, no more secrets?”

I stepped closer, lifting her chin with my fingers. “You will get what you deserve, Lucia.” 

She hesitated, her expression changing. “And Elena? If marrying her is what makes your plan work, what will happen after the marriage?”

I turned and looked at her over my shoulder, "Elena will learn who really controls her. It's the only way to fix what her father did to my family."

Her jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought she might say something sharp, but she just pressed her lips together and turned away. The sound of her heels on the floor was the only answer I got.

As she reached for the door, my voice cut through the silence: "Don’t let your guard down in that house. Elario is clever."

​"I've done this for three years." Her eyes flashed with frustration. "They still haven't found out. You should trust me more.”

She left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.

I drifted over to the window, catching my own reflection in the glass.

​​“She’ll marry me,” I said, the plan unfolding slowly. “Then I’ll make her destroy her father with her own hands.” I paused, letting the full scope of my revenge take shape: it was going to be perfect and painful.

Her father's betrayal deeply hurt my family, leaving a wound that only payback could heal. I must finish this, not just for power, but for justice for my father, who died because of him.

“The Master’s move.” A faint smile touched my lips.

I pulled open the desk drawer and took out a file.

Elena Castellano’s photo stared up at me, her blue eyes sharp and alive, almost daring me to look away.

“Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t survived…” My thumb traced the image of her face.

“Now you will pay for your father’s sins, and wish you actually died.”