kidnapped

Emilia's breath hitched as she found herself straddling him, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped through her shirt, through her skin, igniting something dangerous between them.

His hand on her ass keeping her in place.

She shoved against his chest, but Alessandro didn't budge. If anything, his grip on her tightened, fingers digging into the curve of her ass like he had every right to touch her.

"Get. Off." Her voice was sharp, commanding. A warning.

He chuckled, his other hand trailing up her spine, fingers barely grazing her skin—just enough to make her shiver.

"You say that," he murmured, "but your body tells a different story, topolina."

Emilia's fingers curled into fists, her nails pressing into his chest through his shirt. "You think this is a fucking game, Bianchi?"

Alessandro's eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "Everything is a game, cara mia. And I'm always the one who wins."

Emilia's patience snapped. Her hands running down his chest. "You know... Men are much weaker to their desires ". A smirk danced on her lips as she rocked her hips a bit.

Alessandro's grip on her waist tightened—hard.

His smirk never faltered, but his eyes darkened. That deep, bone-chilling kind of dark that made men beg for mercy.

Emilia tilted her head, feigning innocence, but the glint in her eyes said otherwise. She had played this game before—temptation, seduction, manipulation. Men were easy.

She rocked her hips again, slower this time. "See?" Her voice was silk and venom. "Even the great Alessandro Bianchi isn't immune."

Alessandro chuckled, but there was no humor in it. His fingers dug into her skin as he yanked her flush against him, their faces mere inches apart.

"Lesson one, topolina," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "Never play with fire unless you're ready to burn."

And then—with no warning—

He spun them around, slamming her back against the cold seat.

Emilia gasped, hands instinctively grabbing onto his biceps.

"Ah, dolcezza," Alessandro crooned, eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. "You think I'm weak to my desires?" His knee nudged between her thighs, spreading her legs slightly.

Her breath hitched, but she refused to break.

"So sure of yourself," she taunted, voice steadier than she felt.

A slow, wicked smirk carved across his lip.

"You don't belong to anyone? Fine. Then I'll make you beg to belong to me."

Emilia refused to shiver. Refused to let his words sink under her skin.

But Alessandro—he saw everything. The flicker of hesitation in her eyes. The way her pulse betrayed her.

His smirk widened. Predatory. Certain.

"Lesson two, topolina," he murmured, his grip on her unrelenting. "You never challenge a man like me unless you're ready to submit."

Her jaw clenched. "I won't."

Alessandro laughed—low, dark, and cruel.

"Then let's put that to the test."

On getting to the Bianchis estate the car halts and before she could react, before she could even process what was happening—

He pulled her out and snapped his fingers.

The sound of rushing footsteps echoed behind her.

Arms grabbed her. Tight. Unyielding.

Her heart lurched.

She fought—elbowed, kicked, snarled, but Alessandro's men were faster. Stronger. They forced her arms behind her back, binding her wrists.

Fuck.

She jerked her head up, glaring daggers at Alessandro.

"You think you can just—"

His hand shot out. Fingers wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"Lesson three," he whispered, tilting her face up. "I take whatever I want. And what I want—".

His thumb brushed over her lower lip.

"—is you."

Her breath hitched.

"You're insane."

Alessandro chuckled, dark and pleased. "You have no idea."

He turned, snapping his fingers again.

The guards dragged her forward.

"Take her into the mansion" Alessandro ordered, already walking away.

Emilia thrashed. "You son of a—"

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Save your breath, dolcezza. You're going to need it."

Emilia's struggles were useless. The guards dragged her into the sprawling mansion, her heels scraping against the pristine marble floors.

She thrashed, twisting in their grip. "I swear to God, I'll kill every last one of you—"

A sharp smack to her cheek sent her head snapping to the side.

"Behave," one of the guards sneered.

Emilia tasted blood.

Her eyes flickered up. Alessandro stood in front of her, his jacket now discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He looked casual. At ease.

Like kidnapping her was just another Tuesday.

"You hit her?" Alessandro's voice was calm. Too calm.

The guard faltered. "Sir, she was—"

Bang.

The guard dropped instantly.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the air.

Alessandro lowered his smoking gun, his expression cold. Unapologetic.

"Let that be a lesson to the rest of you," he murmured. "No one touches what belongs to me."

The remaining guards stiffened.

Emilia's blood ran cold.

"You're fucking insane," she spat.

Alessandro's lips curled. "And you're still talking back."

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His grip was firm, but not painful. Not yet.

"You'll learn, topolina." His thumb dragged over the fading sting of the slap. "One way or another."

Then, he leaned in. His breath brushed against her lips.

"Take her to my room," he ordered, voice smooth, deadly.

Emilia's pulse thundered.

No.

She began kicking, biting, screaming—but they overpowered her, lifting her like she weighed nothing.

Alessandro watched her struggle with amusement.

"Fight all you want, cara mia." He chuckled darkly. "It only makes it more fun."

And with that, Emilia Russo was dragged upstairs.