CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Marco’s POV

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

No fucking idea.

Marco sat alone in his penthouse, lights dim, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, staring out at the city that knelt beneath his feet like it belonged to him.

Because it did.

Everything he wanted, he took.

Everything he desired, he owned.

Everything he touched, he marked.

That was the world of Marco Valentino.

Until her.

Until Mia.

The little waitress with fire in her eyes and a softness in her soul that made him feel…

Unsteady.

Off-balance.

Human.

And God, he hated feeling human.

He wasn’t supposed to want someone like her. Sweet. Uncomplicated. Broke. Ordinary.

But ordinary had never looked so fucking beautiful.

Ordinary had never smiled at him like she had — without fear. Without expectation.

Mia was the first woman in his entire cursed existence who didn’t want anything from him… except maybe for him to leave her alone.