ログインHis 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.
Forty steps. Fifty. The darkness was getting deeper. She could barely see the path now. She was moving on instinct, on faith, on the memory of Dante's voice telling her exactly what to do.And then, suddenly, the trees opened up.The clearing was there.Small and secluded and perfect. And parked in the center of it, engine running, headlights off, was Dante's car.Dante was in the driver's seat.When he saw Isabella emerge from the trees, their eyes locked across the distance of the clearing.She saw him take in her appearance, confirming she was unharmed, confirming she'd made it through the extraction successfully. She saw something like relief flash across his face, quickly replaced by focus and control.Isabella walked toward the car, and her legs felt unsteady. The adrenaline from the walk, from the escape, from the enormity of what she'd just done was making everything feel dreamlike.Dante reached over and opened the passenger door from the inside.Isabella got in.The door clo
POV: ISABELLA5:45 PM — ISABELLA'S ROOMIsabella stood in front of her closet, staring at her options.She'd already decided what to wear...black fitted pants, a cream-colored sweater, neutral shoes suitable for walking. Nothing that would draw attention. Nothing that would suggest she was planning anything other than a normal evening walk.She folded these items carefully and set them on her bed.Then she looked around her room.This space that had been her prison and her sanctuary simultaneously. The walls painted in soft colors chosen by her mother. The furniture selected for aesthetics rather than comfort. The photographs on the shelves showing her at various ages, smiling for the camera at events orchestrated by her father.This might be the last time she would see this room as her home.After tonight, it would just be a place she used to live.Isabella dressed slowly, deliberately. Each piece of clothing felt like she was shedding skin, preparing to become someone else. The pers
"You don't need to know yet," Dante said. "The fewer people who know the complete plan, the safer Isabella is."Luca understood the logic, though he didn't entirely approve of being kept out of the loop."When does this happen?" Luca asked."Tonight," Dante said. "We've already waited too long. Dimitri arrives in Rome within days. Once he's here, Isabella will be under lock and key. Her father will increase security. This is our window, and it's closing."Dante stood and moved to his office window, looking out at Rome."I'm calling Isabella now," Dante said. "I'm giving her the operational details."Luca nodded and began making notes on the extraction plan."After you call her, what's your plan?" Luca asked. "What do you do when Lorenzo comes looking for her?""I deny everything," Dante said simply. "I claim I have no idea where she is. I express sympathy for his loss. I offer to help search if he needs it. I play the concerned former lover who's worried about her welfare.""And when
The operations map of the Russo estate was spread across Dante's desk.Every entrance. Every exit. Every guard rotation. Every security camera. Every patrol pattern. Dante had been gathering this intelligence for months, long before he'd even thought about orchestrating Isabella's escape. Information was currency in his world, and he'd learned early that the most valuable information was the kind you gathered before you needed it.Luca was studying the map with the same focused intensity that Dante brought to it."The eastern gate," Luca said, pointing to a section of the estate's perimeter that was less heavily guarded than the others. "That's the extraction point.""Already confirmed," Dante said. "The guard there is ours. Has been for three weeks."Luca looked up sharply."You turned a Russo family guard?" Luca asked. "When?""The moment I understood I was going to need Isabella," Dante said simply. "His name is Milo, This Milo has a gambling problem. Two hundred thousand in debt t
POV: ISABELLAThe vanity table in Isabella's bedroom was the only place in the Russo estate where she felt like she could breathe.The mirror reflected back a woman she didn't quite recognize anymore. Her hair was longer than it used to be. Her face was thinner. The anxiety medication had helped a lot, but Isabella now knows that she needed more than just her daily dosage everyday if she wanted to remain and look functional to her family.But overdosing on the medicine had left marks on her and it was more than physical changes.It was the way her eyes looked haunted. The way her shoulders curved inward as if she was still trying to make herself smaller, less visible, less threatening to the people who controlled her life.Isabella ran her fingers through her hair, staring at her reflection without really seeing it.Her mother had come to her room that morning with a smile that was far too bright, far too determined. her mother had sat on the edge of her bed bed and reminded, in caref
"How many people have you killed?" Dimitri asked."Forty-seven," the operative said without emotion. "I keep count."Dimitri felt the weight of that number. Forty-seven people. Forty-seven lives ended by this man's hands."And today was going to be forty-eight," Dimitri said."Yes," the operative confirmed."Tell me about The Covenant's structure," Dimitri said. "Who's in command? Who makes decisions? How is the organization run?"The operative took a breath."There's a command council," the operative began. "Five people at the highest level. Viktor Mikhailov is one of them. There's a woman named Aleksandra Volkov who handles logistics. There's a man named James who manages financial operations. There's someone we only know as 'The Director' who sets overall strategy. And there's a fifth council member whose identity I was never given.""And below the council?" Dimitri pressed."Handlers," the operative said. "About twenty of them globally. Each handler manages operatives in their reg







