Unravelling into sin

The city stretched beyond the glass walls of the penthouse, its golden lights shimmering like scattered embers against the night sky. But inside, in the suffocating silence between them, Alessandra felt trapped in something far darker—something consuming.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a violent, erratic rhythm that Matteo Corsini could probably hear. He stood across from her, a predator disguised in human skin, his posture deceptively relaxed as he leaned against the marble counter. But his eyes? They roamed over her like a fire licking at gasoline, burning through every layer of her restraint.

She knew that look.

She felt it on her skin.

Molten. Possessive. Dangerous.

Alessandra clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. She should speak. Should explain why she had come. But the words tangled in her throat, strangled by the sheer force of Matteo's presence.

His voice sliced through the silence, deep and smooth, like a blade dragging through silk.

"You left your penthouse in the middle of the night." His head tilted, studying her. "Why?"

Her throat tightened.

She could lie.

She should lie.

But the truth was already there, written in the reckless pounding of her heart, in the way her body betrayed her—drawn to him like a moth to the flame, despite knowing she would burn.

Matteo didn't wait for an answer. He was already moving, his footsteps soundless against the polished floors. In a single breath, he was in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of him—a mixture of expensive cologne and something darker, something raw.

His knee slipping between her thighs

His fingers curled around her throat.

Not squeezing. Not hurting.

Just holding.

Testing.

Owning.

His thumb skimmed over her pulse, slow, deliberate. The faintest pressure. A cruel tease.

"You smell like him." The words were quiet, but they struck like a gunshot.

Alessandra's breath hitched, her entire body tensing as Matteo's grip shifted. His fingers trailed lower, featherlight over her collarbone, then lower still—until they ghosted over the faint bruise Luca had left on her skin.

A mark.

A claim.

Matteo's jaw tightened.

Alessandra shivered under his touch.

Something flickered in his eyes—something dark and unreadable. And then, with a voice that sent a shudder rolling down her spine, he whispered, "Did he force you?"

It was a question laced with quiet fury, a storm barely held in check.

Alessandra shook her head quickly. "No".

Not wanting to appear stained but Matteo caught on it .

Matteo's gaze sharpened, his grip shifting slightly. "But you didn't want it."

It wasn't a question.

Her stomach twisted.

Matteo let out a low, humorless chuckle, his fingers tracing over the bruise—not with tenderness, but with something far more lethal.

A taunt. A warning. A promise.

"You let him touch you," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin along her jaw, a whisper of warmth that sent a tremor through her.

She swallowed hard.

Matteo smirked against her skin.

His hand dropped lower, tracing the smooth fabric of her dress.

"Did he kiss you here?" His palm flattened against her hip.

Alessandra's breath stuttered.

His hand dipped lower.

"Here?"

She trembled.

Matteo's lips barely grazed her throat, his voice turning into something silken and dangerous.

"Did he make you beg?"

A sharp inhale ripped through her lungs. Her knees nearly buckled.

Matteo caught her.

Held her.

Owned her.

His breath was a whisper against her skin. "Did he make you wet, princess?"

A firestorm erupted in her veins.

Alessandra's entire body tensed, her mind screaming at her to run—to fight this.

But Matteo felt it.

He knew.

He pulled back, just enough to let their eyes meet.

And then—

With one swift motion, he ripped the strap of her dress clean off.

Alessandra gasped.

Matteo exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing over the newly exposed skin. His thumb brushed against the bruise Luca had left, his expression darkening.

"You want me to erase him, don't you?"

Alessandra's chest rose and fell, her breath shaky, unsteady.

Matteo's lips hovered just above her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin.

She clenched her fists at her sides, a desperate attempt to keep herself grounded, but the moment Matteo's lips touched the spot where Luca's claim lingered—

Her restraint shattered.

A sharp inhale tore from her lips, her body betraying her as a shiver rolled down her spine.

Matteo felt it.

He thrived on it.

His fingers slid under her chin, forcing her gaze to his.

The way he looked at her—God help her—he owned her in that moment.

And he knew it.

"Then beg."

A command.

A dare.

A cruel temptation.

"Please"

Alessandra's breath came fast and uneven. She should push him away. Should run before she lost herself completely.

But she didn't move.

Didn't fight.

Because in this moment—

Matteo Corsini was the only thing in the world that felt real.