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“He came here begging to see you, and I sent him away because I’m terrified he’ll break you. I’ve always suspected you wanted him. And now look at you. You’re a mess without him, and it kills me.”

Tears sting my eyes, hot and stubborn. I shove her hands off me. “I love him, Gianna. That’s why I’m a mess. Not because he’s breaking me, but because I can’t breathe without him.”

Her face softens, just a little, and she wipes her cheek with a shaky hand. “Fuck, Pen. You’re really in deep, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, sinking back onto the couch, my legs giving out. “I tried to stay away. Didn’t work.”

She sits beside me, close but not touching, staring at the floor. “I don’t trust him, Pen. Never will. But I trust you. If your heart’s telling you to go to him, then go. Just don’t expect me to cheer while you jump into that fire.”

I nod, tears spilling now, and she pulls me into a hug, tight and fierce. Her shirt smells like coffee and her shampoo, grounding me. “You’re an idiot. So is he,” she mutters into my hair.

“I know,” I choke out, clinging to her. “But he’s my idiot.”

She laughs, rough and quiet, and lets me go. “Then get your ass over there. Don’t make me regret this.”

I stand, wiping my face, my heart pounding with something wild and alive. I grab my keys, my jacket, and head for the door, her words echoing in my head. He loves me. He came for me.

I climb into Gianna’s car and drive off. My mind races, Gianna’s fear, Sophia’s ghost, Adriano’s text before the accident. He said I’m his soul, his everything. I feel it too, this pull that’s more than lust, more than guilt. It’s a lifeline we both hang on to.

Years ago, when my crush on Adriano first struck, I never questioned it. I wallowed in the filthy, forbidden heat of it, knowing full well it was a dead-end ache that would rot inside me. I could stare at him, trace his every move with my eyes, worship him from the shadows, but crossing that line? Never. Not with him. When I finally tore myself away and moved, I thought I could bury it, let it fester and die. Good riddance, I told myself, about damn time.

Then I saw him again, after all those years apart, and the truth hit me like a fist to the gut. I never got over him. Not for a second. Those feelings had just burrowed deeper, festering insome neglected corner of my soul I’d been too busy to scrub clean. Time had piled filth between us, but I knew then I’d never shake him. It was carved into my bones, inevitable, this sick, twisted thread binding us. Adriano had dragged me through pain, through hurt, through rage so thick it choked me. His world is a jagged, war-torn hell, dripping with blood and danger, a place he’ll never escape. But God help me, he’d also shown me love so fierce it burned, pleasure so deep it stained me, the kind that hooks into your marrow and never lets go. I wanted to claw it out of me, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Riding the elevator up to his penthouse, my mind swims back to him, thick with the grime of memory. He probably doesn’t want me here, not after the way we last tore into each other, all spit and venom. Hell, I don’t even know if that savage pull between us still lingers, but keeping my distance? It’s not working anymore. He’s in my head every damn day, every night, a relentless itch under my skin. I see the hard planes of his face, sharp and unyielding, softened only by those eyes that could devour me whole. I feel his arms, his body, the brutal ease with which he lifts me, fills me, owns me. Staying away just makes the hunger worse, a gnawing, depraved need I can’t starve out.

I tried giving him space, thinking it might purge him from my blood. He’s dangerous, always has been, a truth I’ve carried like a bruise. It’s why I walked away, why I forced the distance. But lately, I wonder if that was a mistake. What’s the point of fighting when every thought, every pulse, drags me back to him?

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, only to freeze. Two strangers block my path. One’s got a scar snaking up his face, ugly and jagged, his glare dripping with menace. The other stands by the door, legs spread wide, face blank as stone. I’ve been tangled up with Adriano long enough to know his men, their faces burned into my memory, but these two? They’re new. Foreign. It sends a shiver crawling up my spine, a whisper ofsomething sour in the air. What else has shifted in this filthy kingdom of his?

One steps forward, hand raised.

“Turn around, Rosetti,” Scarface spits, his hand twitching toward his belt. “Boss ain’t seeing nobody. We lost Tommy today.”

“Oh my god. Is Adriano okay? Ralph? Sal?”

“Everyone’s pretty bummed about it but we just had the funeral, so boss is alone and demanded not to see anyone.”

Normally, I’d run, tail between my legs like some kicked dog. But I’ve spent a lifetime choking down cowardice, and I’m done. In the car over here, I wrestled with the what-ifs, the maybes, every piece of doubt. They all led me back to him. I can’t leave

“Move. I’m here for Adriano.”

He crosses his arms. “Heard you loud and clear. Answer’s still no.”

“Tell him it’s me. Now.”

The other guy chuckles. “You deaf? Get lost.”

“Adriano! Adriano! I’m here! Please, I need you!”

“That’s it!” the stoic one roars, lunging forward. His meaty hand clamps around my arm, pulling so hard I yelp, pain searing up to my stomach in a hot, sick wave. “Get the fuck out!”

I’m about to scream again when the door flies open, and there he is. Adriano, shirtless, bandaged, his arm a mess of blood and stitches. He is barefoot like some untamed king. His eyes lock on mine, then drop to the hand bruising my arm. His face twists from shock to molten fury in a heartbeat. I brace for him to turn that rage on me, to spit me out like trash. But he doesn’t.

“Get your fucking hands off my woman!” he bellows, voice a guttural snarl. His knuckles white like he is ready to smash bone. The man drops my arm fast, steps back, and bows his head.

“Sorry, Don—”

He stalks toward me, all predator and heat, and before I can breathe, his hands cup my face, and his lips crash into mine, a brutal, consuming kiss that stops the world dead. I’d forgotten the sheer force of him, the way his tongue claims mine, so filthy and desperate. I unravel, my legs trembling, my core aching.

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