Page 75 of Twisted Devotion

I take it from her, the fabric soft between my fingers.

She moves around me, methodical but relaxed, pulling a pair of tailored black pants, a matching jacket, and a crisp white shirt from the racks. She lays them out on the bench, her movements effortless, like she’s done this a hundred times.

I watch her carefully, searching for any sign that this is some kind of ploy.

But she seemsgenuine—lost in the moment, as if, just for a second, she’s forgotten who I am and what I do.

When she’s done, she steps back, inspecting her choices with a critical eye.

“There,” she says, satisfied. “Now you’ll looklesslike you’re attending a funeral.”

I chuckle, more at her tone than her words, and wait until she leaves the closet before getting dressed.

The tailored suit molds perfectly to my frame, the rich fabric settling over me like armor. As I step out, adjusting my tie, she walks up to me, her gaze flicking over me as she takes it in.

“Here,” she says, brushing my hands aside.

Her fingers move deftly, adjusting my tie with practiced ease. I watch as she concentrates, her lower lip caught between her teeth—completely unaware of how much she’s tempting me.

“Another meeting?” she asks, not looking up.

“Yes,” I murmur. “But luckily for you, it’s here in my home office. You won’t have to miss me too much.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. Iwon’tmiss you.”

I grin. “Then why do you follow me around, advising me on ties and colors? If you’re not careful,Bambina, I’ll start to think youlikeme.”

She scoffs, releasing the knot of the tie. “I don’t.”

She’s about to step back, but I don’t let her. I grab her waist, pulling her flush against me. A soft gasp escapes her, her hands pressing lightly against my chest. I dip my head, my voice a low whisper against her lips.

“I’ll change that.”

Then, before she can protest, I kiss her.

The kiss is slow and teasing—a test. She stiffens for a second, instincts warring with something deeper. But then, she melts.

Her fingers clutch at the fabric of my shirt, holding on like shewantsthis just as much as I do. Her breath hitches when I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer and savoring the warmth of her body against mine.

For a moment, it’s justher and me. No feuding families. No war waiting on the horizon. Justthis. And God help me—I’m not sure I want to let it go.

19

ARIA

Nicolas surprises me with a simple nod when I ask if I can attend the meeting.

For a second, I think he’s joking.

But after blinking at him almost ten times—waiting for the smirk, the teasing remark that never comes—I realize he’sserious.

My heart races.

The only meeting I’ve attended was with Marco and Matteo. This one will involve other mafia men—real players in a world I still don’t fully understand. It feels like I’m diving headfirst into the unknown.

But I can’t back out now.

I need to make a strong first impression, so I take my time getting ready.

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