Elena's entire body was on fire.
Not from the heat of Alessio's touch.
Not from the possessive way his hands curled around her waist.
But from rage.
From the unbearable, suffocating realization that she was trapped.
That this man—this cruel, ruthless stranger—had stolen her freedom, her choices.
And worst of all…
Her body wasn't listening to her mind.
Every time he touched her, every time his voice dropped into that dangerous, velvet murmur, her pulse betrayed her.
Her skin betrayed her.
No.
She wouldn't allow it.
She wasn't his.
Elena acted without thinking.
She jerked back, twisting against his hold, her nails digging into his wrist as she tried to rip herself away.
Alessio barely reacted.
Like he expected it.
Like he enjoyed it.
His grip only tightened.
"Elena," he murmured, his voice low, edged with something darker.
She struggled harder.
"Let me go!" she hissed.
Alessio's lips curled.
And then—he moved.
Too fast.
Too controlled.
Before she could react, he spun her, pressing her against the wall, his body caging her in.
A gasp ripped from her throat.
Her wrists—trapped.
His hands—braced beside her head.
His body heat flooded her senses.
His scent—spice and something darkly masculine— surrounded her.
She hated how her breath shuddered.
Hated the way her stomach twisted—not just with fear, but with something else.
Something more dangerous.
She refused to let him see it.
"You're making a mistake," she said through clenched teeth.
Alessio's silver eyes gleamed.
"No, piccola." His voice was smooth, but deadly. "I'm correcting one."
Her heart pounded.
His fingers brushed her throat—not tight, not rough.
Just enough to make her tremble.
She hated him.
Despised him.
And yet…
A shiver licked down her spine.
Alessio must have felt it.
Because his lips curved in satisfaction.
His thumb brushed her pulse.
And then—he leaned in.
His breath—warm, steady—brushed her skin.
"Elena," he murmured, his tone dark with meaning.
She refused to give in.
Refused.
Her breath hitched as she forced herself to meet his gaze.
"You won't break me," she whispered.
Alessio's expression didn't change.
But something shifted in his eyes.
Something dangerous.
Something decisive.
"No?" he mused, his fingers sliding lower, trailing down her side.
Elena bit back a gasp.
Her body was too aware of him.
Too weak against him.
Alessio tilted his head, studying her like a predator amused by its prey.
"Then let's see how long you last, piccola."
And just like that—
He let go.
He stepped back, his eyes still dark with promise.
Still watching her.
Still waiting.
For her to run.
For her to fight.
For her to finally understand…
That no matter what she did—
She would never escape him.