Bound by my blood

Chapter eight

The sharp clatter of something hitting the floor downstairs jolts me awake. Shouting follows—deep, angry, and unmistakable.

Vincenzo.

His voice carries through the vast halls of the mansion, growing louder, more volatile with each second. My stomach tightens. He's coming for me.

I push myself up in bed, my mind racing. He must've found out about Jax being here last night. But I was careful. There's no trace of him left—no stray cologne lingering in the air, no misplaced glass or crumpled blanket. The second the credits rolled, I had him out the door, double-checking that nothing was left behind before collapsing into bed.

Still, Vincenzo is a man who doesn't need proof—only suspicion.

The door crashes open so violently I flinch.

Vincenzo storms in, fists clenched at his sides, dark eyes scanning my room with the precision of a predator tracking wounded prey. Without a word, he strides toward the bathroom and yanks the door open, his towering frame filling the doorway as he checks inside.

I cross my arms, raising a brow. "Good morning to you too."

He ignores me, moving like a madman through my space, flinging open the walk-in closet doors. His shoulders are rigid, his breathing harsh.

I sigh. He's such a hypocrite. He can warm his bed with whomever he pleases, but the moment I so much as breathe the same air as another man, he loses his mind.

His head snaps toward me, fury carved into every line of his face. "Where is that motherfucker?"

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pushing myself up slowly. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I say, feigning innocence. But my heart pounds in my chest as he moves toward my dresser, yanking open drawers with an unnecessary amount of force.

Then, to my horror, he reaches for my underwear drawer.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I groan. "What, you think I stuffed him in there? Have you been drinking?" I roll my eyes.

The moment I do, his glare darkens. "Don't fucking roll your eyes at me," he growls, slamming the drawer shut. He turns on me, moving with the kind of slow, calculated fury that makes my breath hitch.

I take a step back.

He takes one forward.

The air shifts, crackling with tension as he stalks closer, forcing me back with every deliberate step. My body moves instinctively, retreating until my spine meets the cold wall.

Trapped.

His broad chest presses against mine, and I suck in a sharp breath, suddenly hyperaware of how little fabric separates us. The thin camisole and shorts I slept in offer no protection against the heat radiating from him.

Vincenzo lowers his head, his face inches from mine. His mint-tinged breath fans against my skin, making my pulse race.

"I don't like being lied to, Alexa," he murmurs, his voice smooth but laced with an underlying threat. "So I'm going to ask you again. Where is Jaxon?"

I drop my gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. If I speak, I might give myself away. Not because I'm lying—but because having him this close does things to me I don't want to admit.

His presence is suffocating, intoxicating.

I place my hands on his chest and attempt to push him back, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he moves quicker than I can react, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head.

My breathing turns shallow.

For a brief moment, I think he's going to kiss me. My lips part slightly, heart hammering in anticipation. But at the last second, he tilts his head, his mouth brushing past my cheek, ghosting over my ear.

"You really like pissing me off," he whispers, his tone a deadly caress. "Or are you just horny, Alexandria? Is that it? Do you want me to fuck you senseless until you see stars?"

Heat explodes in my core, and I curse my body for betraying me.

I squeeze my thighs together, but the dampness between them only makes my frustration grow. Another $20 thong ruined by Vincenzo fucking Lombardo. And of course, I can't complain because that would mean admitting he gets to me.

His grip on my wrists tightens slightly, as if he knows. As if he feels the shift in the air.

I glare up at him, determined to gain back control. "No, I'm not," I snap, voice sharp despite my racing pulse. "Last night, I was plenty satisfied."

A lie.

Jax and I hadn't done anything. But Vincenzo didn't need to know that.

I watch his jaw tense, his possessive fury barely contained. He thinks he's in control, but I can play this game too.

Slowly, I arch my back, pressing my breasts against his hard chest, challenging him.

"Does that piss you off?" I whisper. "That another man touched your fiancée's body? That I let him touch me?"

Something dark flickers in his eyes. His control splinters.

He exhales sharply through his nose, his voice dropping into something dangerously soft.

"Baby," he mutters, his fingers digging into my waist. "I'm going to make sure Jaxon never even looks at you again." His lips brush my collarbone, pressing a slow, claiming kiss there. "And then I'm going to come back here and show you what happens when you push me."

A shiver runs down my spine, but I mask it with a smirk. "You are mine," he continues, his grip tightening. "And I don't share my things."

I scoff, shoving at his chest until he finally takes a step back. "Well, neither do I," I say pointedly. "But that didn't stop you last night, did it?"

His lips curve into a wicked smirk. "Are you jealous?"

"Please." I scoff, turning away. "You wish."

I move to my dresser, grabbing a pair of denim shorts and a soft cashmere sweater. He lingers behind me, watching.

His eyes burn into my back as I unclip my bra, slipping it on beneath my sweater before sliding my shorts up my legs. His silence is unnerving, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

I roll up the hem of my shorts slightly, tying my hair into a messy bun, preparing myself for the bridal boutique trip. I slip on a few rings, fastening the delicate star necklace Aunt Ava gave me before she left for Italy. My hands tremble slightly, but I push it aside, slipping on my checkered Vans.

I finally turn to face him. "So, do you need something, or are you just being weird?"

Vincenzo leans against my dresser, his gaze dark and unreadable. He pulls out his phone, tapping something before slipping it back into his pocket.

"Just waiting for Angelo to find Jaxon, baby," he says smoothly. "I've got his location now. I'm going to pay him a visit." His smirk deepens. "Pick something tight for the dress."

And with that, he turns and walks out, leaving behind a mess of tension in his wake.

I roll my eyes and grab my lip gloss, shaking off the lingering heat from his words.

God help Jax.

And god help me.