"Mafia's African Rose

Control

I shouldn't have kissed Viktor. The hurt on Alexio's face was enough to make me regret my actions, twisting my heart in a way I couldn't understand. I needed someone to talk to—I needed to make sense of these feelings that were spiraling out of control.

I made my way to Alexa's room, realizing I hadn't seen her since the club incident. Maybe she'd have some insight; after all, she knew Alexio well. As I walked, I spotted Austin coming out of the elevator from the fourth floor.

"Hey, Angel," he said with his usual playful grin.

"Hi, Austin. Have you seen Alexa around?" I asked, diving straight to the point.

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Not even a 'how are you?'" he teased.

I laughed despite myself. "Fine, fine. How are you, Austin?"

He smirked, shrugging. "Well, I think I saw her in the gym." Gym? I didn't even know this place had a gym.

Austin and I headed there, and as soon as we entered, my gaze locked onto Alexio. He was working out, sweat glistening on his sculpted abs, tattoos etched across his arms and chest like some dark, mesmerizing artwork that disappeared below his gym shorts. My breath hitched, lingering far too long on the outline of his—

"Earth to Angel." Austin's voice snapped me back, and my face flushed when I realized Alexio had caught me staring. I quickly looked away, praying he hadn't seen the desire in my eyes.

I turned to Alexa, who was on the treadmill. "Hey, Alexa."

She glanced up with a soft smile but not her usual warmth. "Hey, Angel."

As Austin and Alexio began speaking in Italian, I tried to focus on anything but him, but Alexa leaned over, whispering, "You stare a lot, Angel. Maybe have a filter."

Embarrassed, I looked down. "Sorry..."

"It's fine," she said, dismissing it with a wave. But then her gaze softened. "I heard what happened between you, Alexio, and Viktor. Angel... I've known Alexio since I was a kid, and trust me, he likes you."

I scoffed, trying to play it off. "Please."

She stayed serious. "No, really. I've never seen him so protective over a woman. He's hiding his feelings, but there's more to him than you think."

"Like what?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Have you ever wondered how Alexio and Viktor are brothers?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Alexio's mother was married to his father, but when Alexio was just a year old, she ran off with a Russian mafia leader... Viktor's father."

The revelation stunned me, pieces of Alexio's guarded demeanor suddenly clicking into place. "That's why they're so different..." I murmured.

She nodded, then added, "But I know how it looked with Cara. Alexio's past has made him view women in... complicated ways. But he's never been protective."

I sighed, overwhelmed. "I can't force myself on someone who doesn't show he wants me."

Alexa watched me for a long moment before placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Give it time. You'll figure it out."

As she walked out, I stayed behind, sinking onto a bench, lost in thought and the mess of emotions tangled around my heart.

All I could think about was Alexio. He lived rent-free in my head, and I hated him for it. I hated myself for it. These feelings weren't good for my heart, yet here I was, standing in front of his office door, struggling to breathe as I raised my hand to knock.

"Enter," his deep, authoritative voice called from the other side. I stepped in, and the look he gave me felt like a punch—a mix of cold indifference and irritation, as if I were the last person he wanted to see.

I hadn't planned what I would say; I didn't even know why I was here. But his eyes locked on mine, and I suddenly felt exposed. His gaze drifted slowly down, as though peeling away every layer, and my pulse raced under his scrutiny. He was impossible to read, his face guarded and impenetrable.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting. "Well?"

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, struggling to string words together. "Kissing Viktor—it was foolish. It's just that you... with Cara..." The words tangled on my tongue as his eyes narrowed.

"Come here," he said in that commanding tone that somehow weakened every part of me.

I felt like I was pulled toward him, drawn by an invisible force, until I was standing between his legs. His large hands gripped my thighs, firm and possessive, drawing me closer. A swift slap landed on my Ass, and I gasped, heat surging to my cheeks.

"Now," he murmured, his gaze dark and unreadable as his lips curved into a faint smirk, "let's continue where we left off, shall we?" He licked his lips, a small, deliberate movement that made my heart stutter.

"Words, Angel," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard, whispering, "Yes."

My body ached with want, even though a part of me knew I'd regret this. But right now, every inch of me was ready to surrender.

SEXUAL SCENE AHEAD ⚠️

"Get that fucking dress off," he commanded, his voice dark and firm. It was as though my body responded on its own—before I knew it, my clothes lay discarded somewhere in his office, leaving me completely exposed under his intense gaze. His eyes trailed over me, taking in every inch, moving with a slow, deliberate intensity that left me breathless.

"Bend over the desk," he said, a note of impatience in his voice. Heart racing, I moved into place, anticipation making my skin tingle. He reached out, running a finger along my entrance, tracing every path of my pussy, I moaned.

"You're so wet, he murmured, his low voice only intensifying the ache building inside me.

Before I could respond, he slipped a finger inside me, and I gasped, losing all composure. "Alessio..." His name escaped my lips in a breathless moan.

A sharp slap landed on me, making me jump. "Don't use my name," he hissed, his fingers moving faster, each movement unraveling me a little more. I could only nod, words slipping away, completely at his command.

"Look at you, making a mess on my fingers like you're desperate," he said with a low groan, his tone a mixture of dominance and satisfaction. His hand moved with expert precision, leaving me trembling. Just as I felt an unfamiliar heat building in my stomach, I gasped, feeling the urge to release. "I—I think I need to—"

He chuckled darkly. "Innocent, aren't you?" His words held a mocking edge. But then, just as quickly, he stopped, pulling back his hand. "Pathetic," he muttered coldly. "You don't deserve to finish."

I felt a pang of hurt, but I masked it with a brave front, refusing to let him see my disappointment. I threw him a defiant glance, catching the unmistakable tension in his expression. "Playing your scary mafia game again, but looks like you're not as in control as you think," I said, my gaze flicking to the tension beneath his tailored suit.

"Don't flatter yourself," he replied sharply, his tone razor-sharp. "I was just picturing Cara." he said, his tone cold and dismissive, as if it were nothing. The words hit like a punch, but he didn't even blink, already looking past me like I was just part of the room. Biting back my frustration, I quickly slipped on my clothes, refusing to give him a second glance. But I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and intense, watching every move. Ignoring the heat of his gaze, I straightened up and walked away with as much dignity as I could muster, determined not to let him see just how much he'd gotten under my skin.

As I walked out, I made a silent vow: Never again.