LOGINHis fingers curled, his thumb pressed, and Eve shattered.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, pleasure so intense it was almost painful. She screamed his name like he'd commanded, her body convulsing, her nails digging into his shoulders through his expensive shirt.
He worked her through it, prolonging it, until she collapsed against his chest, gasping and boneless.
"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "So fucking beautiful when you let go."
She couldn't respond. Could barely think. Her entire world had narrowed to the feeling of his arms around her and the aftershocks still rolling through her body.
"That," he said quietly, "was just the beginning."
She lifted her head, confused. "Beginning?"
"You asked me to show you what you've been missing." His smile was dark. "We've barely started."
Before she could process that, he was standing, lifting her with him like she weighed nothing. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.
"Where are we going?"
"I have a bedroom attached to this lounge." He carried her through a door she hadn't noticed. "And we're going to use it."
The room was all dark wood and masculine luxury. And in the center, a massive bed.
He set her on her feet beside it, and she swayed, still drunk on alcohol and orgasm.
"Strip," he commanded.
"What?"
"Take off your dress. I want to see all of you."
Her hands shook as she reached for the zipper, but she did it. The dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her black lace bra and matching panties.
Dimitri's eyes raked over her like a physical touch, and she resisted the urge to cover herself.
"Fuck, you're perfect."
"I'm not...."
"Yes. You are." He stepped closer, his hands spanning her waist. "Say it."
"I'm perfect?"
"Again."
"I'm perfect."
"Whose perfect girl are you?"
Oh. Oh.
"Yours," she whispered. "I'm your perfect girl."
"Yes, you are." His hands slid up her back, unclasping her bra. "And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."
The bra fell away. Then he was guiding her backward, laying her on the bed, following her down.
His mouth found her breast, tongue swirling around her nipple, and she arched into him with a moan.
"So responsive," he murmured against her skin. "I'm going to enjoy teaching you exactly how good it can be."
"Teach me," she breathed.
''Oh trust me piccola, i will''
And he did.
His mouth mapped every inch of her body, finding places she didn't know were sensitive. Behind her knee. The inside of her wrist. The spot where her neck met her shoulder.
By the time he hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down her legs, she was already trembling again.
"Spread your legs for me, piccola."
She did, shameless in her need.
He settled between her thighs, and the first touch of his tongue made her cry out.
This was nothing like the quick, awkward oral sex Simon had occasionally attempted. This was worship. Devotion. A man who knew exactly what to do and took his time doing it.
Dimitri licked and sucked and nibbled, alternating between gentle and rough, learning her body's responses. When he added his fingers again, she came apart for the second time, this one somehow even more intense than the first.
"Please," she gasped when she could speak again. "I need... I need you inside me."
He lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal. "Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because you're drunk, and when I fuck you for the first time, I want you sober enough to remember every second."
"But..."
"No." He kissed his way up her body. "Tonight, I make you come on my tongue and my fingers. Tomorrow, when you're sober, you can have my cock."
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair, cara." He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was sprawled across his chest. "But I'll tell you what. Tomorrow, you come to me sober, and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Deal?"
She should say no. Should tell him this was a one-time thing, a mistake fueled by alcohol and heartbreak.
But looking into his eyes, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath her, she couldn't.
"Deal," she whispered.
"Good girl." He stroked her hair. "Now sleep. You're safe here."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You're still..." She gestured vaguely at his very obvious erection.
"I'll survive. This is about you, not me."
She wanted to argue, but exhaustion was pulling at her, the combination of alcohol and orgasms making her eyelids heavy.
"Dimitri?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For making me feel wanted."
His arms tightened around her. "You are wanted, Eve. More than you know."
She fell asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than she had in years.
She didn't see him pull out his phone.
Didn't hear him make a call.
Didn't know he was arranging for legal documents to be prepared and brought to the lounge within the hour.
Because Dimitri Valentino was many things...ruthless, possessive, morally gray....but he was also a strategist.
And he'd just been handed the opportunity of a lifetime.
Eve Thorne, drunk and vulnerable and desperate to belong to someone.
He'd give her exactly what she asked for.
And in the morning, she'd realize she'd signed away far more than she ever intended.
"Like something's..." She searched for the word. "Moving."The doctor's voice came from the phone. "That's expected. Keep her warm. Keep her drinking."Dante tucked the blanket higher around her shoulders. His thumb brushed her cheek. She turned her face into his hand, and the click behind her eyes came again, louder, and the room tilted.***The fever came first. It rose so quickly she barely had time to be afraid. One minute she was warm; the next she was burning, her skin slick, her hair soaking against the pillow. She kicked the blanket away and Dante pulled it back. She kicked it away again."Isabella.""Too hot.""I know.""I can't...." Her stomach turned over hard, and she rolled onto her side and gripped the edge of the mattress. "I'm going to be sick."He had the basin ready. He had anticipated it, and she was grateful for that and ashamed of it in the same breath. He held her hair back and afterwards he wiped her mouth.When it passed, she lay on her back, shaking, and stare
He spoke for exactly five minutes. He said nothing of any importance. He told a story about the first time his father had taken him to the port, and Antonio listened with his face unreadable. When the five minutes were up, Antonio turned over the phone, read the screen again, and set it down."A false alarm," he said."Good," Enzo said.He sat down. His hands were shaking under the table. He pressed them against his knees until they stopped....DIMITRI'S POVAt eleven fifty-three, Dimitri's phone vibrated once against his thigh.He did not reach for it. He finished the sentence he was saying, something about the weather, and waited until the steward had refilled his glass. Then he lowered his hand beneath the edge of the table and turned the screen toward his knee.Done. Case in hand. Cold. Clean.He read it twice. Then he put the phone away.His father was speaking. Dimitri didn't hear a word. For the first time in an hour, something in his chest had unclenched, slowly, like a hand
They went in.The cold hit Marco like a wall. It was a long, low, concrete room with metal shelving on both sides and a gray, humming compressor at the far end. The air smelled of rubber and frost. Under the fluorescent light, rows upon rows of gray hard cases sat in neat ranks, each one stamped with a letter and a number."Second rack," Marco said. "Armani said green."His man was already moving. He ran a gloved hand along the shelf. Ten cases with blue bands. Then a gap. Then one with a band of dark green across the lid.P-7R."Here."Marco came and knelt beside it. The case was larger than he had expected, about the size of a medical bag, with a rubber seal around the lid and a small black thermal gauge set into the side. The gauge read four.He lifted it. It was heavy. Cold came through his gloves."Decoy," he said.The third man set a second case on the floor beside it. Same gray aluminum. Same green band. Same stamp, copied from Mike's print. A cold seal, hand-pressed, that matc
Dimitri arrived at the estate at five to nine.The long dining room had been laid for four. Enzo stood at the head of it, in a dark suit, with a glass of wine he hadn't touched. He looked up when Dimitri came in, and for one second his face showed something that wasn't welcome and wasn't quite dislike. Then it settled into the polite blankness he used for guests."You're early," Enzo said."You said nine." Dimitri replied."I said nine." Enzo nodded. "Then I'm early." Dimitri removed his coat and handed it to the steward. "Where is he?""On his way. He doesn't like to be kept waiting at his own table." Enzo glanced at the clock. "Which is ironic, given who asked for the dinner.""You did.""Did I?""You'll say so if he asks."Enzo's mouth tightened. He turned and straightened a fork that didn't need straightening.Dimitri watched him. He had never been easy with his half-brother. For years there had been something sour in the air between them, a thing neither of them named. Dimitri k
"I know." Dimitri turned from the screens. "I'm asking now."Marco stayed by the door with his hands folded. Enzo glanced at him, then back, and some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders."Sit," he said. "Please. I'll show you."...He showed him everything.BioAdvance Research Solutions, in the EUR district, behind a security gate and a stand of trees. A low gray building with a second level underground, and a logo that appeared on no corporate registry Enzo could find. He had mapped the delivery schedule, the guard rotation, the cars that came and went. He had put a man in a parked van two hundred meters from the gate and kept him there for nineteen days."Dr. Castellano," Enzo said, and put a photograph on the desk. A middle-aged man in a gray overcoat, a grave face, a briefcase. "Italian Ministry of Health. He has visited the building eleven times. He stays between one and two hours. He leaves in a car with government plates.""And tonight?""Tonight he went in at seven-fort
"Then we move before that." Dimitri's voice was level. "Tomorrow night.""That's fast.""It has to be." Dimitri looked at each of them in turn. "Mike, I need the label and the seal by noon tomorrow. Marco, the van, the men, the room. Eve....""I'll stay out of the way," Eve said, "and think of what you've forgotten.""That's exactly what I was going to say.""I know."The corner of his mouth moved again.His phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at the screen and went still."Excuse me," he said.He picked it up. "Yes?"A thin, careful voice. "Signor Valentino. I am calling on behalf of your father."Dimitri recognized it. The aide. He kept his face blank."Go on.""Signor Antonio wishes to know whether you have reached a decision.""I'm still thinking.""He asked me to remind you that the offer stands for forty-eight hours.""I heard him the first time.""He also asked me to say," the aide went on, very quietly, "that he hopes you will think carefully, and that he does not enjoy being







