Setting: The Rosetti Estate – After the Kiss
The ballroom was deathly silent.
Every guest—powerful CEOs, crime lords, aristocrats, and their associates—stood frozen, absorbing the scene before them.
Sophia felt the weight of a hundred stares pressing against her skin.
Her lips still tingled from Alexander's domineering, possessive kiss.
His fingers curled around her waist, his grip firm, claiming.
She had done it on impulse. A desperate move to defuse the situation before it spiraled into violence.
But now, standing in the aftermath of her bold act, she realized she had done far more than just kiss Alexander Blackwood.
She had sealed her fate.
Nathaniel's expression was like stone, his blue eyes cold, unreadable.
But Sophia could see the storm raging beneath the surface.
She had known Nathaniel for years—known his patience, his controlled charm, his dangerous temper.
And right now, she could tell.
She had wounded his pride.
Nathaniel's hands clenched at his sides before he let out a slow breath, his mask of composure slipping back into place.
"Very well," he said, voice low, lethal.
He adjusted his cufflinks, looking straight at Alexander.
"You've made your move, Blackwood. But don't think this is over."
Alexander's smirk was infuriatingly calm.
"It was never a game to begin with, Carter." His voice was silk laced with venom.
Nathaniel held his gaze for a long, tense moment before turning on his heel and walking away.
But Sophia knew this wasn't the end.
This was just the beginning.
---
The Mafia's Warning
As soon as Nathaniel disappeared into the crowd, Alexander leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear.
"You're getting better at playing the role, sweetheart." His voice was a whisper, dangerously close, sending a shiver down her spine.
Sophia pulled back slightly, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
"That wasn't for you," she said, her voice steady. "It was for me."
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, but before he could respond, a slow clap echoed through the room.
Lorenzo Rosetti.
Sophia turned, her stomach tightening as she met his sharp green eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lorenzo drawled, his lips curved in amusement, "what a performance. If I didn't know better, I'd say I just watched a man stake his claim over a woman in the most primitive way possible."
Alexander's fingers tensed against Sophia's waist, but his expression remained neutral.
"Lorenzo," Alexander said smoothly. "Always the commentator."
Lorenzo smirked, taking a sip from his whiskey.
"Forgive me, Blackwood," he said, tilting his head. "I just find it... entertaining when two men fight over a woman as if she's a prize to be won."
Sophia's heart pounded.
She knew Lorenzo wasn't just here to watch the drama unfold.
He had a purpose.
And she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.
Lorenzo's gaze flickered to her, assessing.
"Tell me, Sophia," he said, swirling his drink lazily, "do you enjoy being fought over? Or do you prefer to be the one pulling the strings?"
The words were a trap.
If she denied it, she would look weak.
If she confirmed it, she would become a target.
Sophia straightened her shoulders.
"I prefer," she said, meeting his gaze, "to decide my own fate."
A dangerous glint flashed in Lorenzo's eyes.
Alexander's grip on her waist tightened, protective.
Lorenzo chuckled. "Smart answer," he murmured. Then, with a casual sip of his whiskey, he added, "But I wonder… how long will that last when the war truly begins?"
Sophia's blood ran cold.
Alexander's expression finally darkened.
"Lorenzo," he said, voice dangerously low. "If you have something to say, say it."
Lorenzo smirked.
"Oh, I'm just reminding you, Blackwood," he said smoothly, "that you're playing a very risky game. And in this world, when two powerful men want the same thing…" His gaze flickered to Sophia.
"Blood is the price."
A chilling silence settled over them.
Sophia could feel the tension coiling in Alexander's body, the barely restrained fury in his posture.
But before he could react, Lorenzo took a step back, raising his glass in mock toast.
"Enjoy your night, lovebirds," he said with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.
---
The Private Confrontation
The moment Lorenzo was gone, Alexander grasped Sophia's wrist and led her out of the ballroom.
Not roughly.
But with undeniable authority.
They strode past the murmuring guests, through the grand hallway of the Rosetti Estate, until they reached a private lounge.
The door shut behind them with a thud.
Then—silence.
Alexander stood by the fireplace, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.
Sophia took a breath.
"You're angry."
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
"Angry?" He finally turned to face her, his blue eyes dark with fury. "No, Sophia. I'm furious."
Her throat tightened.
"Because of Nathaniel?" she asked, forcing herself to stand her ground.
He strode toward her in measured, deliberate steps.
"Because," he said, his voice low, "Lorenzo just declared war in front of hundreds of people."
Sophia's stomach dropped.
She had felt the warning in Lorenzo's words, but now she understood.
This wasn't just a battle for power.
This was a war that would draw blood.
Alexander stopped inches away from her.
She could feel the heat of his presence, the tension radiating from his body.
"Listen to me, Sophia," he said, his voice softer now. "From this moment on, you are under my protection. You will not speak to Nathaniel alone. You will not go anywhere without my knowledge. And if anyone—anyone—tries to touch you, they will regret it."
Sophia's heart pounded.
His words were a promise.
A warning.
And something else.
Something far more dangerous.
Possession.
Her pulse raced.
"Alexander," she whispered. "You're acting like I belong to you."
He reached up, his fingers brushing against her cheek, his touch searing.
"You do," he murmured.
Sophia's breath hitched.
And she wasn't sure if she hated it… or if she craved it.
---
End of Chapter 7