Prologue

Tommaso

As we approach the restaurant’s entrance, the air shifts with an ominous weight. I stop and pull Ella back towards me. “What’s wrong now?” her tone is stern. There is a split second of confusion before I am able to respond.

Then, a deafening roar shatters the bustling scene.

I feel the heat and pressure, and then everything goes silent for a heartbeat. The world pauses, and I realize I’m on top of Ella, shielding her from the explosion.

The shockwaves ripple through the air, and I struggle to make sense of the devastation around us. Black smoke clouds the air, making it difficult to breathe. I cough and struggle to regain my bearings. She lies beneath me, and uncertainty settles on my chest like a suffocating shroud.

My hands tremble slightly as I reach for her. Why isn’t she moving? God, no. Please. No.

The choking trail of burning wood and the distant wail of sirens form a jarring opus, drowning out any hope of clarity. I try to wake her up but she remains unresponsive. I look at my phone on the ground. Fuck! The screen’s completely shattered.

I search for Francesco but see nothing past the smoke. “Open your eyes, Ella,’ I pick her up and bring my head closer to her chest. Before I can check her heartbeat, a woman runs out of the wreckage, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her voice gets gargled with the blood oozing from her throat, and she falls at my feet.

I gather Ella into my arms, her minute body light against my chest. The rhythmic thud of sirens merges with the cadence of my racing heart as I carry her away from the remnants of the explosion to the nearest bench. Its surface is cool beneath my fingers. Gently, I lay her down. Her eyes remain closed, a haunting stillness that raises my concern.

“Fuck! FUCK!” I can’t hear my own voice. I gambled with her safety. My heart starts hammering in my chest. And I lost.

“Say something, please.” I press my fingers against the pulse point on her neck, seeking a reassuring throb. Nothing. I hover over her, my gaze fixed on her face.

I cannot name my own feelings.

Despair isn’t even close.

It is as if somebody has ripped my heart out.

Chapter 1

Tommaso

Two weeks earlier

“Your guests are waiting in the VIP lounge, Don Tommaso,” my underboss informs me.

I step into the VIP loft. It provides a discreet perch to observe the night’s proceedings.

So far, so good.

I smile from the loft at my esteemed guests—a high-profile real estate magnate known for his connections in construction, and a stock trader with ties to the highest financial circles.

“Buonasera, gentlemen. I trust the evening finds you well.” I step down into the VIP lounge, acknowledging their presence with a nod.

“Tommaso, always a pleasure. Your establishment never fails to impress,” Vincent says with a wry grin on his face.

“I’m glad you like it,” I pat him on the shoulder.

“Tiberio would have been proud,” Antonio smiles at me. I smile back at hearing my father’s name. Antonio was his closest friend and is the person I have trusted the most since his death.

“The papers for the new plaza construction have been a hassle, but I’ve greased the right palms. Everything’s on track,” he adds.

The dialogue shifts seamlessly between business and the night’s entertainment. A server approaches with a bottle of fine Italian wine and pours it into crystal glasses.

“Salute,” I raise my glass first. “To alliance and success,” I remark, a nod to the code governing our interactions.

The conversation with them continues, disrupted by the occasional clink of wine glasses and the low hum of the club below. The fragrant haze of cigars lingers in the air. Lorenzo, my arms dealer, comes in with a message.

“Signore,” he whispers, “the new shipment is here. Your approval is needed for the handover.”

I maintain my composure, leaning in to respond. “Deal with it discreetly. I’m occupied with our guests.”

Later, I excuse myself and leave the VIP lounge, the muted hum of the conversation now fades into the distant echo of the music from the club below.

Descending the staircase, the noise intensifies. I navigate through the dimly lit hallways. My gaze lingers on the restroom area. “Luca,” I call, catching the eye of one of my men patrolling the vicinity. “Head to the restrooms. Make sure nobody’s indulging in anything they shouldn’t be.” Luca nods to the other men, urging them to follow.

The Odeon is more than a club, more than a business; it’s a legacy.

The past of my clan lingers in these walls, and I won’t allow it to be tainted.

As I scan over the room, my eyes catch the delicate movement of a lone figure at the club’s counter—a girl, lean with dark brown hair cascading in loose waves. She’s a vision, her black cocktail dress blending flawlessly with the club’s ambiance.

Though she is blending in perfectly, and her familiarity would deceive any onlooker, I know she’s not a regular at Odeon. Her aura, distinct and cautious, sets her apart. She is scribbling something on a notebook sprawled open before her. Some mischievous part of me is dying to find out what she’s writing about.

As I approach, I notice her gaze fixated on the pages, her pen moving with purpose. The air is thick with the scent of cigars and fine spirits, yet her world seems insulated. Strange.

She doesn’t look up when I reach the counter. Settling onto the stool beside her, I glance at the notebook. “Odd preference of a workspace, I must say.”

“Maybe,” she continues to write but then stops midway, “How do you know its work?” She smirks to herself, not looking up yet.

Damn. She’s beautiful.

My gaze traces the delicate lines of her face.

Her features are a toxic blend—eyes that hold a universe of blue hues, a nose that curves in a perfect arc, and lips that carry a soft, inviting curve.

She could easily work in the movies. It’s not just her physical charm but the authenticity that radiates from her being. She looks carefree and happy, two things I hardly come across now.

She finally raises her head. Her eyes, those blue beads, are on me now.

There’s a warmth in that gaze, a familiarity that tugs at the corners of my heart.

I am glad she is come here tonight.

“There are no creative pursuits on a Saturday night. Especially in a busy club. At its bar counter,” I smile back. “Must be something serious.”

“Good guess, but not really. In fact, I’m a food blogger for the Bel-Air Magazine,” she reveals, her dark blue eyes holding a spark of passion. ‘Ella Hart, pleasure to meet you.’

“Ah,” I reply, feigning surprise. “Tommaso,” I take her hand in my own “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine”. There is a surprising softness in her touch that catches me off guard. Her skin is velvety, and it feels like a balm to the rough edges of the world I’m used to. “Ever sampled the offerings of this fine establishment?”

“Doing exactly that. That is my current assignment, reviewing The Odeon,” she grins.

“A luxury club?” I scoff.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be,” she says. “A little too ritzy, though. But places like these host the best parties in all of Los Angeles,” she winks at me.

She’s flirty, too.

I play along, “Parties, yes. But when it comes to food, I’m not so sure.” I signal to the bartender and he gets a bottle of Merlot. “What’s your take on it?”

She smirks, her eyes narrowing playfully. “To be honest, you’re right. I’ve tasted better.”

“Have you tried the specialties?” I take a sip of my wine, not moving my eyes from her.

“Oh, you mean those dishes that are only pleasing to the eyes. Those fancy, overpriced, things taste like shit, trust me.”

So, hiring the best chef in the city with three Michelin Stars was just a waste of money.

“No escorts, though, that’s strange enough,’ she looks around. ‘Every other lavish club I’ve reviewed is crawling with them. I guess every powerful man wants a pretty woman on his arm.”

I admire your taste and your sharp tongue, Ella. But it is too distracting for my business dealings.

“I don’t think your review is going to be on the positive side, Ella,” I sneer.

“Honesty is the essence of a good review,” she says, putting her notebook in her bag.

Don’t leave, Ella. Not yet.

“Well, if you want a unique angle for that review, you can always add an exclusive interview with me,” I beam.

“And you are?” She raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on her dark red lips. “If you’re trying to charm me into a secluded corner with that line, it won’t work.”

I chuckle, playing along with her teasing. “Well, I thought it was worth a shot. I don’t get to have gorgeous food bloggers review my club every evening.”

In a fraction of a second, her playful and flirty expression changes into an incredulous one. She gawps at me with those big blue eyes.

“I need a drink.” She chokes out.

Chapter 2

Ella

He flashes a smug smirk at me. Oh God.

Why didn’t I get the hunch? He’s tall, handsome, charming, dominant, why did I mistake him for someone ordinary?

I blush and look at my fingers. “I… I didn’t know, Tommaso, listen–”

“It’s not a big deal, Ella,” his laugh is masculine and deep. Fetching. I blink in surprise, the realization dawning, “I appreciate your honest review,” he winks at me.

“You really own this eight-story hulk of a place?”

He nods, the smirk on his face growing. “Don’t worry. This is not a deal-breaker. By the way, my offer still stands if you happen to have changed your mind.”

I burst into laughter, a mix of shock and embarrassment. “Well, this just took an unexpected turn. Interview it is, I guess. Let’s see what the man behind the curtain has to say.”

“How about somewhere less ritzy? And more private?” He steps closer to me, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. It’s so overwhelming I feel dizzy from his proximity alone.

“A private interview?” I say, attempting to regain my poise. “You certainly know how to keep things interesting.”

His virile scent is intoxicating. He smirks, a glint in his brown eyes. “Alright, let’s say I wouldn’t want to pass up on a golden ticket.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought you were just trying to spice up my review,” I ease my shoulders.

“Can’t blame a man for wanting to savor the mystery a little longer.”

The drawl in his voice is attractive. He closes the distance between us, his movements deliberate. A subtle brush of his fingertips against my shoulder sends a tingling sensation through my skin.

“You know,” he starts, his voice a velvety whisper that sends a shiver down my spine, “I must say, you have a way with words. Quite the talented writer. I read what you were jotting down.”

I meet his gaze, refusing to let the intensity of his stare unravel me this time.

“Flattery won’t change the fact that I’m not here for pleasantries.” I scoff.

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Feisty. I like that. But business and pleasure can coexist, can’t they?”

I shudder, the proximity between us feeling too intimate. “I’m not here for games, Mr. Handsome. I have a job to do.”

Tommaso takes a step closer, his presence commanding the space now. “Oh! So, you do think I’m handsome! Come on. It doesn’t have to be all work and no play. We could make quite the team.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Team? I don’t recall signing up for that.”

He smirks, undeterred by my resistance. “You’re a tough nut to crack, Miss Hart.”

My eyes narrow. “Save your charm for the night ahead.”

He tilts his head, studying me with an almost predatory curiosity. “You know, resisting only makes the chase more exhilarating.”

Damn. He won’t give up. I’m not sure I want him to, anymore.

I scoff, pushing back against the rising tension. “I have an article to write and a strict deadline to follow.”

Tommaso leans in, his proximity unsettling. “I’m not saying you won’t get your interview. All I want is for you to consider that the most captivating night might be just around the corner. I mean, life is meant to be experienced. But it’s your call.”

He places his hand on mine and traces it back to the length of my arm. Holy Shit. Why do I want him so badly? It is so unprofessional.

“Well, you are very convincing, and I do want that interview…” I look him in the eyes. He got me, and he knows it.

He smirks again, lowering his voice. “Think you can stand the ritz for the night, Ella?”

I feel a shiver of anticipation rush through my spine.

“If the owner himself insists.” I smile, finally allowing myself to give into his charm.

Tommaso, with a lingering gaze that hints at both mystery and invitation, extends his arm. “Shall we?” he suggests. I take his hand, and he pulls me closer for a moment before turning to lead the way. He takes me to a dimly lit mechanical doorway. It looks like an elevator, but it has a lock on it. With his free hand, he takes a metallic key out of an inner pocket of his jacket.

He inserts the key into the lock, and the small screen on the wall beside the mechanical door lights up. The heavy metallic doors open and he enters the small space first.

I get in the private elevator after him. As soon as it closes, he suddenly sweeps me to the side, abruptly pushing me up against the cold metal. He grabs my face between his hands, forcing me to look up into his ardent, determined eyes. I gasp, and his mouth swoops down.

He’s kissing me, violently. Oh God, I’m not supposed to like it so much, am I?

Briefly our teeth clash, then his tongue is in my mouth. Desire explodes like fireworks on the fourth of July throughout my body, and I’m kissing him back, matching his fervor, my hands knotting in his meticulously styled curls, pulling them, hard.

He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through me, and his hand moves down my body to the top of my thigh, his fingers digging into my flesh through the dress.

He breaks off the kiss. He’s panting. His eyes are luminous with desire, firing the already heated blood that is pounding through my body. I lean against the wall, panting as well, trying to find my balance.

Right then, the doors open, revealing a luxurious penthouse adorned with plush furnishings, dimly lit to create an intimate ambiance. In the hall, there is a life-size portrait of someone with his child by his side. Both people look somewhat vaguely familiar, and I eventually realize that the child must be Tommaso, while the older man might be his father.

The place has floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the city. “Wow,” I warble. The skyline sparkles.

With a dominant touch, he guides me to his bedroom, the door closing behind us in a hushed whisper. He looks at me, eyes darkly amused, “Chocolate chip ice cream? One of our specialties. Good ones. Not the fancy overpriced things that taste like shit.”

We both laugh. He opens a drawer and grabs a spoon. When he looks up, his eyes are hooded, and his tongue skims his top teeth.

Oh, that tongue.

“We’re going to have fun with food, Miss food-blogger.” His voice is deeper, sexier. “Hope you’re warm,” he whispers. “I’m going to cool you down with this.” He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his.

He places the ice cream on the nightstand. My body practically convulses.

“I want to tie you up,” he says. I blink at him for a moment. “You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable, Ella. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” I whisper, already feeling myself getting wet.

“I’m serious Ella. I will check in with you regularly, and you will say green, if you’re good with what I’m doing, yellow when you want me to slow down and check up on you, and red to stop me.” He looks me dead in the eyes as he explains a safe word code that reminds me of a stoplight. “Understood?”

I nod, but it seems to not be good enough for him.

“Use your words.” He commands, and it’s thrilling.

“Yes, understood.” I hurry to reply. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I am dying to obey him.

“To the bed. I need you to be still. Your hands.”

“Okay,” I whisper again, incapable of anything more.

He strolls over to me, not taking his dark eyes off mine. He takes hold of the ribbons in my dress and with delicious, teasing slowness, releases them one by one from the back.

My dress falls open while I stand paralyzed under his heated gaze. After a moment, he pushes it off my shoulders. It fills and pools at my feet so that I’m standing naked before him. He strokes my hips with the backs of his knuckles, and his touch resonates in the depths of my groin.

“Lie on the bed, face up,” he murmurs, his eyes burning into mine.

I do as I’m told. The room is shrouded in darkness except for a soft, insipid light from a red lamp. He stands by the bed gazing down at me.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and with that crawls on to the bed, up my body, and straddles me.

“Arms above your head,” he commands.

I comply and he fastens his tie around my wrists and to the bed stand. He pulls it tight so my arms are flexed above me.

“Color?”

“Green,” I reply, staring up at him, and he visibly relaxes.

“Good girl.”

Then he stands and takes his coat and dress shirt off. He undoes his pants and drops them to the floor. He is gloriously naked. I guess we both disdain undergarments. He has a physique drawn on classical lines: broad muscular shoulders, narrow hips, and abs. He obviously works out. I could look at him all day. He moves to the end of the bed and grasps my ankles, pulling me swiftly and sharply downward so that my arms are stretched out and unable to move.

“That’s better,” he mutters, his voice getting deeper.

Picking up the pint of ice cream, he climbs smoothly back onto the bed. Very slowly, he peels off the lid and dips the spoon in.

Scooping out a spoonful of the chocolate chip dessert, he pops it into his mouth. “Not bad,” he murmurs, licking his lips. He looks so freaking hot, sexy, and carefree – sitting on me.

What am I doing here? I should be working! What about the interview? My boss is going to kill me. But then my eyes fall back on Tommaso’s lips, and my anxious thoughts are silenced again.

Taking a spoonful, he lets the ice cream slowly melt on the spoon so that it will drip onto my throat, and between my breasts. He dips down and very slowly licks it off. My body lights up with longing.

“Tastes even better on you, Ella.”

A breathy moan escapes my lips and I pull against the tie around my wrists. The bed creaks loudly, but I don’t care – desire is consuming me. He takes another spoonful. Then with the back of the spoon, he spreads it over my boobs and nipples.

“Oh…” I gasp, and then moan, as each nipple peaks and hardens beneath the cool metal of the spoon.

Tommaso bends to lick and suckle all the ice cream off me once more.

It’s torture, his hot mouth on me contrasting with the cold.

“Want some?” And before I can accept or deny his offer, his tongue is shoved in my mouth, and it’s cold and tastes of chocolate chips and wine. Mmh, delicious.

He kisses my lips and then lowers his head to suck each of my nipples hard. And I try; I try to stay still, but it’s hard to ignore the blend of cold and his inflaming touch. But my hips start to move involuntarily, jumping to their own rhythm, caught up in his thrall.

I moan again. A deep and long groan. It’s cold, it’s hot, it’s tantalizing, he doesn’t stop. He sucks farther down my body, into my pubic hair, onto my clitoris. I cry out, loudly.

“Hush now,” he says softly as his magical tongue sets to work, and now I’m keening quietly.

“Oh… please…” I beg him.

“I know,” he breathes against my most sensitive part as his tongue works its magic. He doesn’t stop, just doesn’t stop, and my body is climbing, higher and higher. He slips one finger inside me, then another, and he moves them with agonizing slowness in and out.

“Here,” he whispers, and he steadily strokes the front wall of my vagina while he continues the harsh, relentless licking and sucking.

A mind-blowing orgasm stuns all my senses, eliminating all that’s happening outside my body as I writhe and groan. Holy cow, that was quick.

Chapter 3

Tommaso

She shivers under my touch. Her breasts dangling and bouncing to her sides. I feel her cum on my fingers. Warm and sticky. From the corner of my eye, I see her clutching the sheets. Feel the pleasure, Ella. As if on cue, she cries out.

Fuck. That voice.

“Say my name, tell me how much you want me,” I demand, pulling her hair.

“Tommaso… please–”

The way she moans my name as she begs for my cock makes me even harder. I pull her hair again, to make her open up for me, and I thrust into her mouth.

“Suck it.” I order. She eagerly obeys as I repeat the motion of thrusting into her mouth. Then again. And again. She tries to suck it harder each time, and it feels like I might explode from how good her mouth feels. Once I’m too close to coming to keep going, I pull out of her mouth and hover over her abruptly. I slide on a condom and thrust myself in her pussy in one brutal thrust.

She cries out again. Fuck, she’s so tight. Did I hurt her?

“Tell me your color, baby.” I groan, as I struggle to keep myself still until I’m sure she’s okay.

“Fuck – green, Tommaso! Green!” She sounds desperate, and so am I.

“Oh yes. That’s my good girl.” I groan as I finally slam into her again.

A few thrusts later I pull out of her again and flip her over.

“This way,” I murmur and push my cock inside her vagina. I can feel the walls of her pussy squeeze around my dick. Looks like she loves the manhandling just as much as I do. I lean over, and release her hands, and pull her upright so she is sitting on me. I palm both of her boobs, tugging gently on the nipples.

She groans, tossing her head back against my shoulder. I nuzzle her neck, biting down, as I flex my hips, slowly, filling her again and again. I spank one of her tits. She moans, but the moan becomes a cry when I pinch the nipple I just spanked hard.

“Harder,” she says it like an order.

Oh, she thinks she can tell me what to do. Cute.

“Be a good girl and take what you are given.”

She groans as I pick up speed. I feel like I’m going to burst in her. She cries out. I twist her to face me again, keeping myself pressed inside her.

“That’s right, I want to hear you.”

Her mouth is open in soundless exaltation. She squeezes my upper arms and groans without a pause. What a wonderful sound it is.

I place my hands firmly around her neck to hold her in place, then ease myself out of her, then slide into her again. As forcefully as I can. Her fingers find my hair, and I move slowly, feeling her tight, wet walls around me as I enjoy every single fucking inch of her.

Her eyes are dark, her mouth sagging, as she gasps beneath me. She looks gorgeous.

“More. Please,” she begs. That’s more like it, baby girl.

Her wish is my command. My mouth devours hers, and I start to shove, really move, thrusting deeper. And I lose myself, thrusting my cock in her over and over again.

I am so close. I’m trying to hold back, but then her walls tighten around my cock as she comes, squeezing me and taking me to my own orgasm right after hers.

“‘Oh, fuck – Ella!” I feel my cum spurt inside her as it leaks out of me. I fall on her, pressing her into the mattress, and shove my face in her neck, inhaling her delicious, lavender perfume.

Once I’ve caught my breath I lean up as her eyes flutter open. They are the bluest of blue, clear and gorged. She gives me a shy smile and I trace the tip of my nose down the length of hers. I half-heartedly ease out of her.

“Miss Hart?” I call for her, after a minute of silence. “So,” I quip with a smirk, “is this part of the interview? Should I expect a detailed review of my performance?”

She just chuckles.

“Oh, this is definitely going in the review.”

“Well, don’t forget to rate the host. Five stars, I hope?” I joke.

“Excellent hospitality, though I’ll reserve the final rating until after this interview is over. For now, it’s a solid three stars,” she says, playing with her hair.

God. She looks like a dream.

“So, you want more?” I grin at her as I ask, hopeful she will consent for a round two.

“Green?” she teases and winks at me.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”