𝗗𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀

𝗗𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 | Benvenuto

Alessandro Rossi isn't just your average Mafia kingpin; he's in a league of his own, radiating an untouchable power that is almost supernatural in nature. Hidden behind his mysterious aura is a heart that beats with unmatched resilience. Those deep, whiskey-colored eyes of his have a way of piercing through you, leaving a trail of unease even in the bravest of souls. His presence is commanding, a blend of irresistible charm and a cold, spine-tingling fear.

He is the very embodiment of danger - a dangerously captivating kind of danger. And, somehow, I've found myself entangled in his dangerous world.

Standing at the edge of the doorway, he studied me in the dimmed light, like a panther poised for a deadly pounce. The smell of raw leather and strong aftershave announced his arrival before he even spoke.

"Yasenia," his voice was a husky whisper, weaving through the shadows and wrapping around me like a physical touch. My name on his lips was both a caress and a chain, binding me to him with every syllable.

My heart thudded, loud in my own ears, betraying the cool demeanor I tried so hard to maintain.

I dared to look up into his mesmerizing hazel eyes, and despite my inner protest, I found myself getting lost in them. A shiver of apprehension ran through me, leaving me feeling strangely unsettled.

Without another word, Alessandro strode across the room, his muscular form emphasized under his black Armani shirt. His movements, although slightly weary from the day's exertions, still had the graceful lethal poise of a hunter. The increasing proximity caused my heart to thunder against my ribcage.

"Alessandro," I responded, my voice barely above a breath, acknowledging the unspoken claim he laid upon me.

With an elegant precision, he removed his blazer, discarding it over the armchair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, his powerful biceps flexed visibly. Leaning down, he ran a rough hand through my hair, inhaling my scent deeply. My tense muscles visibly relaxed under his touch, much to my dismay.

His husky voice washed over me, an intimate murmur in my ear. "Why do you fear me, Yasenia?"

"I don't," I lied, the flicker of fear in my eyes betraying me, for we both knew the power of the emotions we tampered with. Dark desires that once awakened, refused to be tamed.

His fingers traced soothing circles on my arm, his embrace paradoxically both comforting and claustrophobic. "Do you trust me?"

I found myself leaning further into him, letting his hold envelope me. "Always. Even when I shouldn't."

A shiver ran through me as his lips grazed my neck, but it wasn't from the cold. It was the sheer intensity of his presence, the way it felt like he completely owned me, body and soul.

"Brava ragazza, (good girl)" he breathed out, a tone of satisfaction evident. That simple phrase, his approval, managed to ignite a kind of warmth inside me that momentarily pushed away any looming sense of dread.

I could feel his gaze wandering over me, heavy with hunger, with an unspoken desire that felt almost too overwhelming, bordering on suffocating.

"I want you," he whispered, his voice a deadly caress. "I want all of you."

Part of me knew I should try to pull away, to maintain some semblance of control. But it was like I was caught in his spell, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charm.

He gently tugged at my hand, guiding me towards the leather couch. Sitting down first, he pulled me into his lap, where I felt almost enveloped by his larger form. For a brief moment, he seemed to just savor the closeness, before pressing a gentle kiss against my forehead.

"I know you want me too, tesoro," he said quietly, his thumb making soothing circles over my hand, coaxing me to melt into him more fully.

Then his lips claimed mine, and I was lost to everything else. The kiss was fervent, demanding, as if he was marking me as his. In that moment, there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

He teased at my lips, one hand wrapping around my neck while the other explored me, as though committing every curve to memory. It hit me then, how deeply I was entangled in this, how much I was in over my head.

But retreat was no longer an option. I was caught in his web, captured by a desire I no longer had the will to fight against. And as I gave in to him, I understood that I would never truly be free again.