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The door slammed shut behind Rafael, leaving Alessio alone in the dimly lit room. His back was still pressed against the King sized bed, his lips swollen, his pulse a wild drum beneath his skin. The taste of Rafael lingered on his tongue,  a mixture of expensive whiskey, danger, and something Alessio couldn’t name.

For a long moment, he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t think.

He could only feel.

His chest heaved as if he’d run for miles, and his legs trembled beneath him. Alessio De Luca,  heir to one of the most powerful mafia dynasties in the state, the man raised to be ruthless, untouchable, cold had just made love to a man. Not just any man. To Rafael Montoya. The same man whose sister was promised to him in marriage. The same man who had looked at him tonight like he wanted to kill him…and then kissed him like he’d die without him.

What the fuck have I done?

But the worst part wasn’t the betrayal, or the risk of being caught. It wasn’t even the guilt over Isabella, his future wife, who even now was probably preparing to leave the Montoya estate and join him at the De Luca mansion.

The worst part was that Alessio didn’t regret it.

Not for a goddamn second.

He came down from the bed, burying his face in his hands, his fingers still trembling. His entire life had been about duty,  about expectations. About becoming the man his father demanded. He’d been taught to kill without hesitation, to silence weakness, to never love. Love was a weapon in this world. A liability.

And now…..now, he wanted Rafael Montoya like a starving man wanted air.

A knock at the door made him jolt upright.

“Boss,” a guard’s  voice called from outside. “Time to go.”

Alessio forced himself to his feet, wiping a hand down his face, trying to mask the storm inside. “I’m coming.”

The hallway was crowded with men, bodyguards, politicians, underbosses. All of them pretending this night was about peace, about unity between two bloodstained families. None of them knowing what had just happened upstairs between the two men meant to uphold that lie.

Isabella waited by the entrance, her dark hair perfectly curled, her makeup flawless. She smiled when she saw him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Ready?” she asked softly.

Alessio nodded, feeling another pang of guilt twist in his gut. He wasn’t cruel , not like his father. He hadn’t asked for this marriage any more than she had. And after what he’d just done with her brother…

He offered her his arm.

They left the estate surrounded by armed guards. Rafael was nowhere in sight.

Coward.

The ride home was a blur. Isabella made polite conversation  about the wedding, about the estate, about the new room she’d be staying in until the ceremony. Alessio barely heard her. Every streetlight that flashed by reminded him of Rafael’s eyes in the dark. Every shift of the car’s tires seemed to echo that desperate moment when they’d both lost control.

At the De Luca estate, Isabella was welcomed like royalty. Servants carried her bags, maids fussed over her, and even Alessio’s mother offered her a brittle smile.

His father barely acknowledged her presence.

“She’ll stay in the east wing,” Lorenzo De Luca barked. “You’ll keep your distance until the wedding. No scandal.”

Alessio nodded. He felt numb. Not from duty this time  but from the war raging inside him.

That night, Alessio lay awake in his vast, empty bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rafael. Felt his mouth. His hands. His weight pinning him against the wall. He hated how much he wanted to feel that again.

He hated the part of him that didn’t feel disgusted.

The night stretched on, thick with heat and silence. Rafael Montoya sat alone in his room, the city’s restless hum a distant thing beyond the tall windows. A cigarette burned between his fingers, its ember pulsing like the rage in his chest.

But it wasn’t anger that kept him awake.

It was him.

Alessio De Luca.

Rafael exhaled a plume of smoke and let his head fall back against the leather chair. The memory clawed at him, vivid and unrelenting. The feel of Alessio’s body against his, the taste of his mouth, the sharp, desperate sound he’d made when Rafael shoved him against the wall and kissed him like a man starved.

He hadn’t planned it. Fuck, he hadn’t even wanted it, not at first. Not until Alessio had looked at him with that insolent, reckless defiance in his eyes, the same look that had always made Rafael’s blood boil. And that night, it had done something else.

It had made him want.

Made him take.

Rafael dragged a hand through his hair, jaw tight. He shouldn’t have touched him. Should’ve walked away. But Alessio had been asking for it, whether he knew it or not. And Rafael……ruthless, disciplined, deadly had lost control for the first time in years.

And now it haunted him.

Not because he regretted it.

Because he didn’t.

Because even now, if Alessio walked through that door, Rafael wasn’t sure he wouldn’t pin him against it again, press his body to his, claim his mouth, and remind him exactly who was in charge.

He could still feel it,  the hard line of Alessio’s jaw beneath his palm, the hitch in his breath when Rafael’s lips had found his throat, the way he’d cursed Rafael’s name like it was a sin and a prayer in one.

And when Rafael had pulled back, hand fisted in the front of Alessio’s shirt, their lips swollen, breath ragged, it hadn’t been fear in Alessio’s eyes.

It had been hunger.

A challenge.

A fucking dare.

Rafael swore under his breath, the heat in his chest simmering dangerously close to breaking. He wasn’t a man given to softness, to weakness. Desire was something he controlled, used, discarded when it became inconvenient. But Alessio De Luca, his enemy, his rival, his future brother inlaw wasn’t something he could dismiss.

Not after what happened.

Not after he’d started it.

He rose from the chair and crossed to the window, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond. The Montoya estate was a fortress, but even here, behind locked doors and armed guards, Rafael felt exposed.

Because no one could know.

If his father found out… if Isabella ever suspected… if the truce they’d bled for cracked because Rafael couldn’t keep his hands to himself…..

No. He couldn’t let it happen again.

But the memory of Alessio’s mouth, the feel of his body yielding and fighting at the same time, made a liar of him.

He turned away from the window, every inch of him collected, dangerous, and walked toward the door. But just before he reached for the handle, he caught a flicker of his own gaze in the mirror and for a moment, saw the man he’d been with Alessio.

Not the cold Montoya enforcer.

The man who’d kissed his enemy like he owned him.

And as much as Rafael wanted to bury it, to forget, he knew one thing:

He wasn’t done with Alessio De Luca.

Not by a long shot.

Days passed.

The wedding plans accelerated. Meetings. Contracts. Blood pacts. Alessio moved through them like a man underwater. Every time his phone buzzed, his heart leapt, hoping it was Rafael.

It never was.

Why won’t he call?

Because it had been a mistake.

Because they couldn’t afford another one.

Because he hated him for what it meant.

Still, the ache didn’t leave.

Alessio watched the clock at night. Waited for his phone to light up. When it didn’t, he considered calling first. But what would he even say?

I can’t stop thinking about you?

I don’t care that you’re my fiancée’s brother?

I don’t care that our fathers would kill us both if they knew?

He didn’t call.

And neither did Rafael.

It drove Alessio mad.

His mother noticed his distraction.

“You seem unwell,” she said quietly over breakfast one morning, when his father wasn’t in earshot.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He wanted to tell her everything. To confess this terrible, beautiful, dangerous thing he’d done. But his mother had survived this world by burying her own secrets deep. He wasn’t sure she’d forgive him for this one.

Instead, he changed the subject.

Then came the dinner invitation.

The Montoya family sent word,  a formal gathering at their estate. A chance to finalize wedding details, to show the city the two families stood united.

Alessio’s stomach twisted when he heard.

He was going to see Rafael.

At last.

The evening arrived in a haze of tension. Alessio dressed in his finest suit, his face a careful mask of control. Inside, he felt like a bomb seconds from detonation.

When they arrived at the Montoya estate, the guards lined the driveway like soldiers on a battlefield. The house glowed with warm light, but the air was thick with danger.

Inside, the families mingled. Don Javier Montoya greeted them with a wolf’s smile. Isabella took her place at Alessio’s side, her hand light on his arm.

And then,  Rafael appeared.

Dark suit. Shirt open at the collar. Stubble shadowing his sharp jaw. He looked like sin made flesh.

Alessio’s heart stuttered.

For one agonizing moment, their eyes met across the room.

The world tilted.

Then Rafael looked away.

He ignored him for the rest of the evening.

Sat across the table. Didn’t speak a word. Didn’t glance his way. The man who had kissed him like a dying man seeking oxygen, who had made Alessio feel something real for the first time in his life, acted like he didn’t exist.

Alessio wanted to scream.

When Rafael finally stood and slipped out of the room, Alessio’s body moved before his brain could stop it. He excused himself from the table, murmured something about air, and followed.

He found Rafael in a darkened hallway, leaning against a wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“You weren’t going to say anything?” Alessio demanded.

Rafael didn’t look at him. “Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit.”

“It was a mistake.”

Alessio stepped closer. “Are you going to lie to my face and tell me you haven’t been thinking about it?”

Rafael’s jaw clenched.

“Because I am,” Alessio said, his voice low and raw. “I haven’t slept. I can’t fucking eat. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

Rafael turned then, his face a storm of anger and something darker. Desire.

“This is dangerous,” he snarled. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know I want you.”

Rafael’s mouth crashed onto his.

The cigarette hit the floor.

This time it wasn’t desperate, fumbling heat. It was hungry. Furious. Their teeth clashed. Hands gripped hard enough to bruise. Rafael pushed Alessio back against the wall and kissed him like he wanted to ruin him.

And Alessio let him.

“Tell me to stop,” Rafael growled against his lips.

Alessio’s answer was to pull him closer.

Neither of them heard the footsteps approaching.

But someone was coming.