Claimed in the dark

The sound of her own ragged breathing filled the penthouse.

Alessandra stood frozen, the torn strap of her dress dangling uselessly over her shoulder, her skin still searing from where Matteo's lips had just branded her.

He didn't move away.

Didn't blink.

Didn't give her a single second to think.

Because thinking meant remembering.

Remembering why she shouldn't be here.

Why she shouldn't let this happen.

Why Matteo Corsini was the last man she could ever afford to want.

Her fiancé's brother.

And yet—

She fucking burned for him.

Matteo's fingers brushed over her collarbone, tracing where Luca's mark had been. A touch so light, so devastating, it sent shivers down her spine.

"I loved it when you begged. Repeat it," he murmured, his voice low. Unforgiving.

A demand.

A promise.

Alessandra's chest rose and fell, her lips parting—

But no words came out.

Matteo smirked, like he already knew the war raging inside her.

Like he could hear the way her pulse betrayed her.

His grip on her chin tightened, tilting her head up to face him.

"You ran to me," he reminded her. "Not to your family. Not to your best friend."

His thumb dragged over her bottom lip, pressing just enough to make her gasp.

"Tell me why, princess."

Alessandra's throat tightened.

She wanted to lie.

To tell him she just needed a place to stay.

That she had nowhere else to go.

But Matteo saw through every fucking excuse.

His hand slid down her arm, gripping her wrist, pulling it forward until her palm pressed against his chest.

His heart was steady. Strong. Unshaken.

Unlike hers.

Unlike the way she fucking trembled under his touch.

"Say it," he ordered.

Alessandra's lips parted, her breath uneven.

"I—"

Matteo's fingers brushed down her thigh, just barely touching the slit of her dress, his knuckles grazing her skin.

Her words died in her throat.

Matteo smirked.

His grip shifted, grabbing her waist, yanking her against him—

Hard.

Possessive.

"You came here because you knew," he whispered. "No one else can touch you after me."

Alessandra gasped, her fingers digging into his chest, trying to push him back—

But Matteo didn't let go.

Didn't let her breathe.

Didn't let her fucking escape.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

His lips were a breath away.

His touch sinfully slow.

Alessandra's whole body tensed, her mind screaming at her to fight, to resist—

But Matteo's next words?

They ruined her.

"You don't want soft, Alessandra." His voice was darkness woven with silk. "You don't want careful."

His lips ghosted against her jaw.

"You want to be taken, so that Luca can't claim you."

Her stomach plummeted.

That was the sickening truth keeping their engagement together because she was untouched.

A virgin who's willing to give it away to save herself from her family's ties and Matteo was the best person to have it .

Matteo chuckled, like he could feel the exact moment her resolve snapped.

His fingers dug into her waist, lifting her just enough so he could press her against the wall, his knee slipping between her thighs.

"You want me," he whispered, lips brushing over her ear. "And that fucking kills you, doesn't it?"

Alessandra shattered.

Unconsciously leaning over his knee between her thighs only to gasp at the feeling that coursed through her.

Her fingers fisted his shirt, her breath escaping in a sharp, helpless exhale.

Matteo felt it.

He fucking owned it.

His mouth found her pulse, lips trailing heat down her throat, across her bare shoulder, where Luca's mark used to be.

And then—

He sank his teeth into her skin.

Alessandra gasped, a soft cry slipping from her lips as a sharp, possessive sting bloomed across her shoulder.

Matteo's mark.

His tongue soothed the ache, but he wasn't gentle.

He wasn't soft.

Because Matteo Corsini didn't erase Luca.

He fucking replaced him.

Her body sagged against the wall, her breath uneven, her mind barely catching up to what just happened.

Matteo pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

His eyes burned.

"Now," he murmured, tracing the bite with his thumb.

"Try and fucking forget me."

And then—

His lips crashed against hers.

Fierce.

Unrelenting.

Alessandra barely had time to react before his hands wove through her hair, tugging her head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue claimed hers, a slow, devastating stroke that left her breathless.

Heat coiled low in her stomach, sharp and unyielding.

She hated how easily he unraveled her.

Hated the way she melted under his touch, her body betraying every logical thought screaming at her to stop.

But logic had no place here.

Not when Matteo Corsini touched her like this.

His hands skimmed down her back, dragging her closer until every inch of her was pressed against him. She felt the hard planes of his chest, the unmistakable heat radiating off his body.

Her fingers clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he devoured her.

She should push him away.

Should tell him this was a mistake.

But then Matteo growled against her lips, his grip tightening, and any thought of stopping disintegrated.

"Mine," he murmured against her skin, dragging his lips along the column of her throat.

The word sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Her breath hitched, her hands fisting the fabric of his shirt.

Matteo didn't hesitate.

Didn't second-guess himself the way she did.

His fingers traced down her back, slipping beneath the torn fabric of her dress.

"Matteo," she whispered, voice trembling.

He stilled, his forehead pressing against hers.

His breathing was just as ragged as hers now.

"Say it," he demanded. "Tell me to stop."

Alessandra's heart pounded, the war inside her crashing in waves.

She opened her mouth—

But no words came out.

Matteo's smirk was slow, victorious.

"Exactly."

His lips found hers again, slower this time, savoring the way she trembled beneath him. His hands dragged over her hips, his fingers pressing possessively into her skin.

"Do you know what fucking kills me, princess?" he murmured.

Alessandra could barely think, let alone answer.

Matteo's grip tightened.

"That you pretend you don't want this."

His hand slid lower, gripping the back of her thigh.

Her pulse thundered against her ribs.

The walls closed in around them, the air thick with the scent of desire and something darker—something dangerously close to obsession.

Matteo Corsini wasn't just a temptation.

He was a damnation.

And the worst part?

Alessandra was already falling.

Burning for a man she should never have wanted.

But here, in the dark—

She was already claimed.

And there was no turning back.