Chapter 21:The Fall

The moment Alessandro's lips met hers, Isla knew she had lost.

This wasn't a game anymore.

This wasn't about control.

This was hunger.

Raw.

Unforgiving.

Inevitable.

His hand slid to her waist, gripping tightly as he pressed her against the wall, his body flush against hers. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension coiled in every muscle.

She should stop this.

She should.

But instead, her fingers fisted his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping against his mouth as he deepened the kiss—slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to ruin her.

His teeth grazed her bottom lip, a silent demand, and a soft sound escaped her before she could stop it.

Alessandro stilled.

Then—slowly—he pulled back, just enough to look at her.

His breathing was rough, his pupils blown wide with something dark and dangerous.

"Say it," he murmured, his thumb tracing her cheek.

Isla swallowed, her body still burning, her mind spinning. "Say what?"

His smirk was slow, devastating. "That you want me."

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She should lie. She should.

But the words stuck in her throat, tangled with the truth she had been trying to outrun since the moment this began.

Alessandro's hand slid lower, his fingers pressing into the curve of her hip. "Say it, cara mia. Or walk away."

A challenge.

A choice.

The final, thin line between restraint and surrender.

And Isla—

She was so damn tired of fighting.

She exhaled shakily, her gaze locked onto his. "I want you."

The second the words left her lips, Alessandro moved.

He lifted her effortlessly, his hands gripping her thighs as he carried her across the room. Her back hit the edge of his desk, and then he was on her again—his mouth claiming hers, his body pressing her down.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he kissed down her jaw, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her throat. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to admit that."

Her breath hitched as he bit down gently, soothing the spot with his tongue. "Then stop wasting time."

Alessandro let out a sharp, dark chuckle. "Be careful what you wish for, tesoro."

And then—

There was no more restraint.

No more pretense.

No more pretending this wasn't inevitable.

Because tonight, Isla wasn't Alessandro's secretary.

She wasn't his contracted wife.

She was his.

And she wasn't sure she ever wanted to be anything else.