Neither of them heard the footsteps approaching.
But no one saw them.
By the time the voices drifted closer, Rafael had dragged Alessio into the nearest empty room, slamming the door shut behind them. The world outside ceased to exist. The glow from a single lamp painted their shadows across the walls, two figures locked in something reckless and consuming.
Alessio’s back hit the wall again, his breath a sharp gasp as Rafael’s mouth claimed his, devouring every ragged sound he made. The cigarette Rafael had dropped still smoldered outside in the hallway, but neither of them cared. The only thing that mattered was this, the heat, the pressure, the taste of something forbidden they could no longer deny.
Rafael’s hands gripped Alessio’s jaw, tilting his face up. His eyes were wild, dark with something deeper than lust.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this again,” Rafael growled against his lips, his voice rough with need. “That it was a mistake. That I could forget.”
Alessio’s fingers curled into Rafael’s jacket, dragging him closer. “Then don’t. Stop lying.”
There was no hesitation this time. No fear. Just want, raw, desperate, blinding.
Rafael pressed his body against Alessio’s, every inch of him hard, unyielding, as if trying to fuse them together. Their mouths crashed, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, the kiss an angry, aching thing neither of them could stop. Alessio moaned into it, all the pent up torment of the last days breaking loose.
“You drive me insane,” Rafael hissed, his lips trailing down Alessio’s throat, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. “I see you across a room and I want to wreck everything.”
“Then do it,” Alessio whispered.
Rafael’s hands found the buttons of Alessio’s shirt, tearing them open with impatient, trembling fingers. His mouth followed the path down, kissing and biting along Alessio’s chest, leaving marks Alessio knew he wouldn’t be able to explain.
But he didn’t care.
For once in his life, Alessio didn’t care about duty, reputation, or the crushing expectations on his shoulders. In Rafael’s arms, the world ceased to matter. The weight lifted, if only for this fleeting, dangerous moment.
Their clothes hit the floor in a trail. Expensive fabrics pooling on marble tile, discarded without a second thought. Rafael’s body was a thing of brutal beauty, hard muscle, sharp lines, a man built for violence, and yet his touch on Alessio’s skin was reverent.
Alessio’s back met the edge of a velvet sofa. Rafael pushed him down, straddling his hips, his hands framing Alessio’s face.
“I shouldn’t want this,” Rafael said hoarsely. “I shouldn’t want you.”
“But you do.”
“I do.”
Alessio’s heart thundered, his chest rising and falling as he reached up, cupping the back of Rafael’s neck. “Then stop fighting it.”
It was all the permission Rafael needed.
Their mouths met again, slower this time. Not frantic but deep, searching, tender. The kind of kiss Alessio hadn’t known men like them were capable of giving. It made his chest ache in a way bullets and blades never had.
Rafael kissed him like a man starved.
His hands roamed over Alessio’s body, learning every inch, every place that made him arch and gasp. Alessio shuddered when Rafael’s mouth moved lower, his tongue teasing, his teeth grazing sensitive flesh.
It wasn’t just sex.
It wasn’t just a release of pent up frustration.
It was something more.
Something Alessio didn’t have a name for, but felt it like fire in his blood.
Rafael lifted him, carried him to the bed, laying him down like he was something precious and forbidden all at once. Alessio’s heart pounded, his breath hitched as Rafael’s weight settled over him.
“You’re mine, Alessio,” Rafael rasped against his ear. “No one else. You understand me?”
Alessio shuddered. “Yes.”
When Rafael finally took him, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t brutal. It was a claim, a connection forged in defiance of the world they both belonged to. Every movement was intimate, every sound shared between them a secret the walls would never tell.
Alessio clung to Rafael like a drowning man, their bodies moving together in perfect, desperate rhythm. The tension, the danger, the thrill of secrecy made every touch electric. Every stolen breath. Every whispered curse and name.
Neither of them spoke about the consequences. About the wedding waiting days away. About Isabella, About the fathers who would kill them both if they knew.
In that room, there was no future.
Only now.
Only this.
Rafael’s forehead pressed to Alessio’s as they both unraveled, the heat between them sharp, blinding. Alessio’s body trembled, his breath catching as he felt himself come undone in Rafael’s arms.
The world shattered.
And for a heartbeat, it was beautiful.
When it was over, Rafael stayed still, his weight a solid, steady comfort against Alessio’s body. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was their uneven breathing and the rapid beat of Alessio’s heart.
Alessio’s fingers brushed through Rafael’s damp hair, unsure of what he was allowed to say.
“I should go,” Rafael muttered, voice hoarse against his throat.
“No,” Alessio whispered, his throat tight. “Stay. Just…for a minute.”
Rafael hesitated.
And then, to Alessio’s surprise, he did.
He shifted to Alessio’s side, pulling him close, their bodies tangled together on the sofa. Alessio’s head rested against Rafael’s shoulder, his hand flat over the other man’s heart.
It was reckless.
Stupid.
But Alessio didn’t want to move.
He didn’t want to lose this.
“Rafael,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence. “What happens now?”
Rafael was quiet for so long Alessio thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then, finally: “I don’t know.”
Alessio turned his face up, searching Rafael’s expression in the dim light. There was pain there. And longing. And something Alessio dared to hope might be love, though neither of them would admit it.
“I waited for you,” Alessio confessed, his voice breaking. “After that night. I wanted you to call.”
Rafael’s jaw tightened. “I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it scares the hell out of me, Alessio.”
The admission gutted him.
Because it scared him too.
Alessio exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t care about the wedding. Or our families. Or the rules.”
“You should.”
“I don’t.”
Rafael’s fingers brushed Alessio’s jaw, his touch unbearably tender. “You’re playing with fire, De Luca.”
Alessio caught his wrist. Pressed a kiss to his palm. “Then burn me.”
A ghost of a smile touched Rafael’s lips.
But then, voices drifted from the hallway. The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching.
Rafael cursed under his breath, pulling away. He was already gathering his clothes, his face shuttered.
“Alessio,” he said, his voice firm. “This can’t happen again.”
But they both knew it would.
Alessio sat up, watching him go, his chest aching. He wanted to stop him. To say something that would make Rafael stay. But the words lodged in his throat.
Rafael opened the door a crack, checked the hallway, then slipped out like a ghost.
And Alessio was alone again.
The room still smelled like them. The taste of Rafael lingered on his lips. His body ached in the best, worst way possible.
He stood, gathered his clothes, and slipped out the back entrance. No one saw him.
No one ever would.
But he knew in his blood, in his bones this wasn’t over.
It was only the beginning.
And the next time would be even riskier.
Even darker.
Even harder to resist.
The morning light streamed through the tall windows of the De Luca dining room, catching the edge of crystal glasses and the polished surface of the table. The air was thick with the rich scent of espresso, warm bread, and the quiet expectations of a powerful family.Alessio sat at his usual place, dressed in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His tie hung loose around his neck, and though he lifted his fork and took bites of his food, he barely tasted any of it.Across from him, Isabella watched him in silence for a moment. Her long, dark hair spilled over one shoulder, and her manicured fingers toyed absently with the rim of her coffee cup.“You’ve been awfully quiet this morning,” she said lightly, her voice laced with a sweetness that felt carefully measured. “Didn’t sleep well?”Alessio glanced up at her. Their eyes met for a beat too long before he forced a polite, tight lipped smile.“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a long night. Business matters.”Isabella arched a brow, c
The lounge was dim, thick with the scent of aged whiskey and smoke. Soft jazz filtered through the speakers, curling around the low conversation of men in tailored suits and ties. Alessio De Luca sat in a shadowed corner, a glass of bourbon in hand, the amber liquid catching what little light reached him.He wasn’t supposed to be here.Not tonight, not like this.But when Rafael Montayo walked in tall, sharp jawed, carrying danger in every careless stride, Alessio’s carefully cultivated restraint cracked like thin ice.Their eyes met across the room. No words. No subtle nod. Just that look. Heavy. Private. A weight of memory and want.Rafael wasn’t alone. A few of his father’s men hovered nearby, laughing too loudly, gesturing toward the card tables. Rafael brushed them off with a murmured excuse, making his way toward the bar.Alessio didn’t think. He moved.He left his untouched drink and crossed the room, the hum of conversation dulling under the pulse in his ears. When he reach
It had been three days since Isabella moved into the De Luca estate, and already the grand halls felt both suffocating and intoxicating. She was waited on, addressed as Signorina Isabella, seated at the head of tables draped in fine linens, and offered things she didn’t even have to ask for.It was the life she was born for.And yet… the man she was supposed to share it with remained a stranger.Alessio De Luca was a master of appearances. In public, his arm rested lightly around her waist, his words perfectly measured, his smile just enough to suggest fondness. He played the part of devoted fiancé without flaw. But behind closed doors, he was as distant as the moon.Tonight, she planned to change that.The household had retired after dinner. The estate’s endless staff had dispersed, and the last of the guests had left after lingering one glass of scotch too long. Isabella took her time dressing down, letting the tight silk gown fall away in favor of something softer, an ivory satin r
The minute Alessio De Luca walked away, Rafael felt like the goddamn floor tilted under him.He let out a sharp breath and leaned back against the cold wall , staring at the empty space where Alessio had stood a moment ago. His pulse was still pounding, not from the threat of a fight, but from the way Alessio had looked at him. Like he belonged to him. Like it physically hurt to watch Rafael in anyone else’s company.And fuck, maybe it did.Rafael ran a hand through his hair, teeth clenched. He could still feel the ghost of Alessio’s stare on his skin, could still hear that voice, low and tight and reckless.“I’ve tried.”Rafael let out a humorless laugh. What the hell was this? He was Montoya. Born of blood and power and ruthless ambition. He didn’t get undone by the son of his father’s oldest enemy. And yet, one word, one look, and he was shaking like some teenager caught in something he couldn’t control.He shoved the door open and stepped back into the casino.The noise hit him li
The Montoya estate felt like a distant memory by morning.Isabella was radiant as they crossed the threshold of the De Luca estate, her arm linked with Alessio’s. The grand iron gates swung open, the long driveway lined with black cars and guards standing stiff at attention. At the entrance, the household staff waited in a perfect line, heads bowed, dressed in the De Luca black.“Welcome home, Miss Isabella,” the housekeeper said with a slight bow, though there was no mistaking the flicker of calculation in her eyes.Isabella smiled like she’d been born to this.Alessio kept his expression unreadable, though his stomach churned. The world had shifted overnight, and nothing about it felt solid under his feet. He wasn’t just his father’s heir now. He was a man bound to a family that had tried to bury them once. And he was carrying a secret in his blood, in his mouth, in his goddamn hands with Rafael Montoya’s name all over it.The estate was grand, of course. It always had been. Marbl
The second Rafael’s hand closed around the handle of his bedroom door, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.He stepped inside and slammed it shut behind him, the sound echoing in the cold, empty room. The heavy lock clicked into place beneath his fingers, not that it made much difference. The walls of this house didn’t keep anything out. Not memories. Not ghosts. And certainly not the mess he’d made of tonight.The room was exactly as he’d left it. Perfect. Immaculate. Impersonal.And he hated it.He shrugged off his jacket and threw it across a chair, tugging his tie loose, the knot stubborn like everything else about this night. He poured a glass of scotch with a hand that wasn’t as steady as it should’ve been, the liquid catching in the low light.He didn’t bother with ice.Didn’t bother sitting either.Instead, Rafael stood by the window, staring out at the Montoya estate grounds as though the dark shapes of trees and stone walls could offer him something useful. The moon hung