CH-26

But I know it will not be an easy task.

Vincenzo Accardi was not a man who bent easily. Stubborn would be too soft a word for him. Obstinate fit better — carved in stone, immovable, untouchable.

Yet the way he had said those words earlier still echoed in my mind.

My woman.

The memory alone made heat rise to my cheeks.

He might hate this marriage. He might resent every moment of it. But that declaration… it meant something. It meant that no matter how unwilling he was, he still acknowledged the bond between us.

He knew I belonged to him.

And I knew he belonged to me.

Whether he liked it or not.

His words had revealed one important truth — Vincenzo valued rules, legacy, reputation. The Accardi name meant everything to him.

And because of that, he would never allow anything to tarnish it.

Not even me.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

He had already claimed me without realizing it. Now it was my turn to remind him that the chain went both ways.

But I had to be careful.

Very careful.

Until now, I only knew the version of the story everyone else told. I had never heard his side — never understood the reason behind the cold fury that appeared in his eyes whenever marriage was mentioned.

And something told me that reason was darker than anyone knew.

My thoughts broke when I felt his gaze shift.

As if sensing someone watching him, Vincenzo suddenly turned.

Our eyes met.

The suddenness of it startled me so much that a soft gasp slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

But the sound died in my throat the moment my eyes fully focused on him.

Oh.

My.

God.

My gaze dropped — completely against my will.

Sunlight poured through the balcony windows, spilling across his body like liquid gold. His skin glowed under it; every muscle sharply defined beneath the smooth surface.

His chest was bare.

Smooth. Perfectly sculpted.

Not a single strand of hair broke the flawless line of his torso.

My brain, traitor that it was, instantly began analysing the situation.

Which wax does he use? Rica? Brazilian? Hard wax?

Honestly, even my skin did not shine like that.

I shamelessly let my eyes wander again.

Up.

Down.

Slowly.

My throat suddenly felt dry.

Why was it getting so hot in here?

And why the hell was his lower sitting so low on his hips?

Just an inch lower and—

My eyes widened.

God.

That V-line.

It dipped dangerously beneath the fabric, disappearing where my eyes absolutely should not be looking.

My heart skipped violently.

“Like what you see, princess?”

His voice sliced through my thoughts like a blade.

I froze.

Mortification flooded my entire body.

“Amm… morning,” I blurted nervously, flashing the fakest smile ever created by mankind.

One of his eyebrows slowly arched.

He lifted the cup in his hand and took a slow sip — but his eyes never left me.

Not even for a second.

And then, deliberately, his gaze travelled downward.

From my face.

To my neck.

My shoulders.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

Exactly the way I had just looked at him.

Realization slammed into me.

Oh no.

Without thinking, I quickly dragged the towel I was holding down toward my stomach, trying to cover my bare legs.

I instantly regretted wearing these shorts.

Why did I think this was a good idea?

Why did I come out dressed like this?

God.

Was there a hole somewhere I could crawl into and disappear forever?

I stared down awkwardly, pretending to adjust the towel while desperately trying not to look like I was hiding.

When I finally dared to glance up again—

He was smirking.

That slow, knowing smirk.

He knew exactly what was going on in my head.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Just kill me right now, God.

Before I embarrass myself any further.

I quickly turned around and rushed toward my room, desperate to escape the situation.

But just as I reached the door—

A low chuckle followed me.

Deep.

Amused.

Dangerous.

My face burned.

Great.

Now he probably thinks I was trying to seduce him.

Which was absolutely not true.

…probably.

“Big lie,” my inner voice mocked.

I mentally kicked it out of existence.

After pacing around my room for a while, I finally changed into a pale pink dress with delicate detailing along the neckline.

A little lip balm.

A touch of kohl.

Flats.

Done.

Grabbing my phone, I opened social media absentmindedly while stepping out of my room.

But before I could take even two steps—

A strong force suddenly shoved me backward.

A small gasp escaped me as I stumbled, my balance slipping for a moment.

A firm hand caught my wrist.

The door slammed shut behind me.

Before I could even process what was happening—

My back hit the wall.

Hard.

A dull sting spread across my spine.

Everything had happened so fast that my brain struggled to catch up.

And then it hit me.

That scent.

Dark.

Warm.

Dangerously masculine.

My breath faltered.

I already knew who it was.

Slowly, my eyes lifted.

Vincenzo stood inches away from me.

His expression was the same as always — cold, controlled, unreadable.

But his eyes…

His eyes were studying me like I was something he was trying to figure out.

I tilted my head slightly, trying to read his face.

Is he angry?

Before I could think further—

His hands landed on my waist.

My breath caught instantly.

The touch was sudden, firm, possessive.

For a few seconds, his hands simply rested there.

Warm.

Heavy.

Then slowly… painfully slowly…

They moved upward.

His fingers glided over the fabric of my dress until his hand stopped just beneath my breast.

His thumb brushed the sensitive curve below it.

My entire body jolted.

Goosebumps exploded across my skin.

Heat rushed through my veins like electricity.

I instinctively pressed myself further against the wall.

But there was nowhere to go.

My chest lifted slightly as my breathing faltered.

My body refused to move.

I was frozen.

Completely frozen.

He stepped closer.

Too close.

I could feel his breath against my face now.

Warm.

Steady.

Dangerously calm.

The proximity made my head spin.

My eyes burned from not blinking.

Everything inside me felt like a storm.

And then—

“Breathe, princess.”

His voice was low.

Quiet.

Commanding.

My lungs finally obeyed.

Air rushed out of my mouth as I inhaled sharply.

But I still could not open my eyes.

Not yet.

His presence was overwhelming.

“What tattoo do you have here?”

His voice came again.

Soft.

Curious.

His thumb traced the spot just beneath my breast.

My eyes flew open.

Oh.

He was talking about my tattoo.

Three small birds.

And a feather beneath them.

A symbol of freedom I had gotten in college.

His thumb continued to brush over the design slowly.

Every movement sent tiny shocks through my body.

My eyelids grew heavy.

God, what was this man doing to me?

Why did his touch feel like this?

“I… it’s… three birds… and a feather,” I stuttered, my voice barely steady.

“When?” he asked, his tone lower now.

“In… college,” I whispered after swallowing nervously.

“Who made it?”

His eyes locked onto mine again.

And suddenly it felt like he was not asking about the tattoo anymore.