His Promised Sin

Aria's pov

"You're not God, Nero. Stop acting like the world bends just because you say so."

My voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and furious, echoing in the empty hallway of the Moretti estate. The chandeliers above flickered as if they could even feel the tension between us. I stood my ground in heels that should've made me feel powerful but nothing could have prepared me for the war in his eyes.

My husband.

Nero Moretti didn’t flinch. He never did. Dressed in his signature black suit, tie loosened and jaw clenched, he stood like the devil carved out of gold. His gaze pierced through me those cold, grey eyes that had once made my knees weak now made my blood boil.

He took one step forward. Then another.

"And you're not a child, Aria," he growled. "So stop pretending you didn't know exactly what you were getting into."

I scoffed bitterly. "What I got into? You mean the marriage I was tricked into? Or the contract I signed under a blindfold with a man who turned out to be the Don I was supposed to marry?"

His lips twitched with something like a smirk. "Oh, you didn't seem so reluctant when you were on your knees, begging for my hand around your throat."

A bolt of embarrassment course through me.

Damn him!

I slapped him.

The sound echoed though the hallway like a gunshot.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Instead, his tongue ran slowly along his bottom lip, tasting the blood I had left there.

"You think a slap is going to fix the fact that you’re mine?"

"I'm not yours," I spat. "You don’t own me."

He grabbed my wrist faster than I could blink, yanking me flush against him. My breath caught as his scent wrapped around me, a smell that sent tingles and heat rushing through my body, dark spice, leather and something utterly seductive.

"You signed yourself over to me the moment you walked into Crimson Vault."

"I didn’t know it was you," I whispered.

"And now that you do?"

I hated that my heart was racing. That his heat seeped into me like wildfire. That my body remembered the nights he had wrecked me, worshipped me, broken me in the most delicious ways.

But I also remembered the betrayal. The secret.

I wanked my hand away. "You lied to me. You took away my choice."

His eyes flashed. "I gave you exactly what you needed."

"No, you gave me what you wanted."

He grabbed my waist, backed me into the nearest wall, the cold wall biting through the silk of my dress. "You wanted it too. Don't pretend otherwise. Every moan, every whimper, every time you melted under me, that wasn't a lie, was it, piccola?"

My hands slammed against his chest, more to stop myself from falling than to push him away.

"Stop calling me that," I breathed. "You don’t get to use pet names when you’ve broken everything."

His grip tightened at my waist, not harshly, just… possessive. And I hated how my body leaned into him forgetting about the pain.

"I remember how you begged," he murmured. "Should I remind you?"

"You’re sick."

"Maybe. But I’m the sickness you keep crawling back to."

He brushed his lips against my neck not a kiss, just the whisper of a promise and I flinched, not from fear but from the way my thighs clenched at the contact.

"I see the way you're trembling," he said, voice low and smug. "Not scared. Wet."

My eyes fluttered shut for half a second. Damn it.

"You don’t get to do this to me," I said, my voice breaking somewhere between anger and longing. "You don't get to... to pull me apart just because you can."

"But I do. Because no one else knows how to shatter you and still keep every piece. Just. For. Me."

His tongue flicked against the shell of my ear, and I sucked in a breath like I’d been hit.

I shoved him back an inch. He let me. Barely.

"You don’t get to seduce your way out of this."

His lips were at my ear now, breath warm. "Then stop me."

I should have. I wanted to. But the ache in my core betrayed me. My skin was already buzzing, already burning from the close proximity of him. He kissed down my neck slowly, cruelly and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, lips brushing my collarbone. "And I will. But lie to me and I'll make you pay for it."

My fingers curled into his shirt.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to tear him apart.

But instead, I gasped, "I hate you."

He laughed, low and dark. "No, you don’t," he said, then lifted me.

My legs wrapped around him on instinct. His hand found the slit in my dress and pulled it apart, sliding up the bare skin of my thigh. I moaned before I could stop myself.

"You hate how much you want me," he growled.

"I hate what you did," I snapped, even as he ground into me, making me dizzy.

He kissed me then, brutal and hungry, like he was trying to devour the fight out of me. And I let him. God help me, I let him. Our teeth clashed, tongues battled, hands roamed like we were trying to destroy each other with pleasure.

Then suddenly, he stopped. His breath was ragged against my mouth.

I blinked up at him, dazed.

"Put me down," I whispered, confused.

His expression shifted, deadly and unreadable. He stepped back, placing me gently on the floor.

"What? What is it?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled a small object from his pocket and tossed it at my feet.

I stared down. It was a tiny black drive.

"What is that?"

"Everything your father didn’t want you to know."

I looked up at him, my heart thundering.

"What did you do, Nero?"

He met my eyes, his voice ice cold. "What he did, Aria. What your family did."

He turned and walked away without another word.

Leaving me in the hallway. Burning. Shaking. And staring at the thing that might ruin everything.