All Chapters of TRAPPED BETWEEN HIM AND WANT: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Summer’s POVThe evening air was warm and tender, carrying the scent of the sea and the faint sweetness of the jasmine vines that clung to the villa’s walls. The horizon glowed a soft amber, slowly melting into the velvet of twilight. My heart still fluttered from that kiss, deep, breathtaking, and so real it made my soul tremble.Alexander’s fingers lingered against my cheek, his gaze fixed on mine as if trying to memorize every inch of me. The world around us had gone still, the rustling palms, the rolling waves, even the hum of the night seemed to bow to the moment we were sharing.Then, without saying a word, Alexander took a slow breath and stepped back.“Alexander?” I whispered, confused, my heart still racing.He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand slipped into his coat pocket. His movements were calm, deliberate, but his eyes were blazing with something raw, something powerful.When he dropped down to one knee before me, my breath caught.My world froze.“W-What are y

Summer’s POVSpain was a dream painted in gold. The morning light spilled across the horizon, glimmering over the tranquil waves of the Mediterranean like liquid sunlight. The air was warm and rich with the scent of salt and blooming jasmine from the villa’s gardens. I stood on the terrace barefoot, the marble cool beneath my feet, watching as the sea seemed to stretch endlessly before me.For once, my world wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t haunted by fear or uncertainty. It was just… peaceful.Behind me, I could hear soft movement, the sound of footsteps too quiet to be anyone but Alexander. I turned, finding him dressed casually for once, a white button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and black slacks that somehow still looked too expensive for vacation wear. His hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn’t bothered taming it after his morning shower.“You’re up early,” he said in that deep, velvety tone that always seemed to find a way beneath my skin.I smiled faintly. “I c

Summer’s POVThe music pulsed through the dimly lit bar, a rhythmic heartbeat of laughter, clinking glasses, and Spanish guitars. It was our last night in Spain, and for once, everything felt... normal.Mom was already at the center of the dance floor, pulling a laughing Lucien with her. The sight was almost comical, a respected mafia matriarch and her reluctant son, dancing under neon lights to an upbeat flamenco remix.Alexander and I sat at the corner booth, the soft amber glow from the lamp catching the sharp edges of his jaw. He looked more relaxed than usual, sipping a glass of wine, watching his family with faint amusement.“Your mom’s having the time of her life,” I said with a grin, swirling the drink in my hand.He hummed, his lips curving slightly. “She’s impossible to control. I stopped trying years ago.”I chuckled, my eyes following Lucien, who was now spinning her around while she clapped and cheered. “It’s nice… seeing everyone happy.”He turned to me, gaze softening.

Summer’s POVThe hum of the private jet filled the air, steady and low, almost enough to drown out the heavy silence between alexander and lucien. We were leaving Spain, leaving behind the sun-drenched villa, the glittering beaches, and the danger that had suddenly darkened what was supposed to be our peaceful escape.Alexander sat beside the window, his hand resting on his knee, his expression distant and unreadable. Across from him, Lucien leaned back, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on nothing in particular. The air between them was thick, so thick even the jet’s luxury couldn’t make it feel lighter.Mom, however, was not one for silence.She sighed loudly, slumping into the seat beside me, and muttered, “If I sit here one more minute with these two walking thunderclouds, I swear I’ll jump out of the plane myself.”I tried to stifle a laugh, glancing at her. “Mom!”“What?” she said dramatically, waving her hand toward her sons. “Look at them! One looks like he’s plotting world d

Summer’s POVThe morning light slipped into my room in thin, shy strips, as if it were uncertain about breaking the kitchen-windowed hush of the De Rossi villa. For a moment I lay still, letting the warmth creep over my face, pretending the night’s weight could not follow the sun. It had been a long night. Spain had given us a taste of sunlight and laughter and then reminded us that shadows travelled faster than hope.I blinked the last of sleep away and turned to the sound that had quietly threaded itself into my skin for weeks now. Alexander’s silhouette was at the window, his profile cut by the soft morning. His shoulders were broad even in repose. He moved like he belonged to danger and to quiet at once. He turned when I sat up, and the half smile he allowed me felt like permission to breathe.“Morning,” I said, voice thin and small.His eyes softened, just the smallest degree, and then settled into something watchful. He came to the bed in two even steps and knelt on the edge. He