Chapter 5 : I Wasn't

POV: Vittorio Del Carlo.

I lose myself in the feral rhythm, unable to tear my gaze away from her flushed, breathless face. She looks wild, stripped down to raw ecstasy, and right then, a fierce possessiveness takes root in my chest. I swear to myself that no other man breathing will ever witness this intimate, unfiltered side of her. The agonizing need for release builds, burning through my veins until I can no longer hold back. I grip her hips and thrust harder, driving deeper into her tight, wet walls. My cock stretches her out with every brutal, unforgiving stroke. Physical pleasure spirals into sheer, mind-numbing insanity.

Pushed to the edge, I wrap my arms around her and pull her warm body flush against my tattooed chest. A guttural groan tears from my throat as I reach my climax, spilling my thick, hot load deep inside her pussy.

I have fucked countless eager women in my violent life, but none have ever come close to delivering the mind-altering high this innocent spitfire just gave me. She doesn't know it yet, but from this exact moment forward, she is irrevocably mine.

I collapse onto the soft mattress beside her, my chest heaving as I fight to catch my breath. As my erratic heartbeat slows, a jolt of realization hits me—I am somehow still fully clothed in my button-down shirt. I sit up slightly, reaching down to unlace my heavy leather shoes, but her hand catches my arm.

Her dark eyes flutter, heavy with encroaching sleep. "You don't intend to kill me, do you?" she slurs softly.

The absurdity of her question almost pulls a loud laugh from my throat. Instead, I gently guide her head down to rest against my chest. I stroke her tangled hair, letting the quiet stretch until rhythmic snores fill the dark room. Lying there, I study her face. Even in sleep, her brows knit together, evident lines of stress pulling at her youthful features. A heavy yearning settles deep in my ribs. I want to be her protector, to shield her from the rest of the godforsaken world.

"I will make you mine, bambina. All mine," I whisper to the silent shadows. I lay her sleeping form back onto the pillows before slipping out the apartment door and into the cold night.

POV: Elena Vázquez.

The morning sun acts like a drill against my skull. I wake up to a blinding headache that makes my very brain throb in agony. As my sensitive eyes wander the messy bedroom, explicit memories crash right back into my fragile mind. The break-in. The cheap wine. My own bare legs wrapped around an intruder. We crossed every line.

"Fuck no way!" I scream out loud, throwing the tangled blankets off. I jump out of bed, a move I instantly regret. Pain shoots down my neck; my heavy head feels like it might literally detach from my aching shoulders.

I stumble into the bathroom, dry-swallow a chalky aspirin, and glance at the digital clock. Pure panic hits me. I am so incredibly late. I grab the simplest dress I can find, throw it over my head, and sprint outside. The cold morning air hits my flushed face as I desperately wave down a yellow taxi to get to work.

Falling into the backseat of the cab, my racing mind echoes with one terrifying thought: Who the fuck did I just sleep with?

I pull out my phone with shaking hands and dial my best friend's number.

"Where the fuck have you been? I've been calling you!" Bianca shrieks through the speaker. "Why aren't you at work? You gotta let me know if you want me to cover for you. I'm worried, Lena."

Between the throbbing hangover, the mounting panic, and her shrill yelling, my patience snaps.

"Oh my God, Bia. Just stop!" I yell back into the receiver, bordering on hysterical tears.

A heavy silence falls over the line. A crushing wave of guilt washes over me.

"I'm sorry, Bia," I weep softly. Hot tears finally spill down my flushed cheeks, smudging whatever makeup is left. "I didn't mean to yell."

Her tone softens instantly, asking me exactly where I am. I press my fingers against my throbbing temples, rubbing forcefully. Flashes of last night blind me—the shocking reality of how a few large glasses of cheap alcohol turned a terrified, quiet girl into a demanding queen begging for a stranger's cock overnight.

I take a deep, shaky breath to steady my racing heart. Staring out the cab window, I spill everything. I tell my best friend every explicit, terrifying detail of what that man did to me in my bed.

"What the fuck did you just say? Who the hell is he?" she yells in pure disbelief.

I stay dead silent. Profound shame anchors my tongue. I have no fucking idea who that gorgeous, deadly man actually is.

Then, without warning, she drops a bomb of a question. A horrifying reality I haven't even paused to consider until this exact second.

"Girl, please tell me that you are on birth control."

My heart stops dead in my chest. I wasn't.