Chapter 37- I'm Screwed

Chapter 37- I'm Screwed
ALESSANDRO’S POV

I slammed harder into her, like that could calm the rage inside me.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the dark room, mixed with the woman’s moans, fake and hollow. Sweat dripped down my back, my hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise. I didn’t care. None of it felt real anyway.

Marcus had sent her. Another one of his “gifts.”

He thought it would help me relax, said I was too tense lately. Too angry.

He didn’t understand that no woman could calm me anymore. Not after her.

Not after Aria.

I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the rhythm, but all I could see was her face. The way her lips had parted when I kissed her. The sound she made when I touched her. The look in her eyes right before she whispered my name.

My jaw clenched. I cursed under my breath, trying to push the thought away, but it only grew stronger. The woman beneath me made a sound—soft, breathy—but it wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t Aria.

My hand slid down the woman’s back, but I was pretending it was Aria’s smooth skin under my fingers. Pretending it was her body that trembled when I moved. Pretending her scent filled the room, sweet and maddening.

The woman tried to turn her head, tried to meet my eyes. I didn’t let her. I grabbed her hip tighter, forcing her still. I didn’t want to see her face. I didn’t even remember her name.

I just wanted to forget.

But I couldn’t.

Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the red dress. The way it hugged her curves. The way her breath hitched when I pulled the zipper up her back. The way she looked at me when she turned, her eyes dark and burning, full of hate and hunger all at once.

God. That moment.

I’d never lost control like that before.

I’d kissed her. The Don’s daughter. The one woman I was supposed to protect, not touch. And I’d wanted her so badly I forgot who I was. Forgot every rule, every line I’d sworn never to cross.

I’d had her pressed against that wall, her soft skin under my hands, her mouth open against mine. She’d tasted like danger, like sin, like everything I shouldn’t want but did.

And then she’d said it would never happen again.

Like she hadn’t been shaking in my arms. Like I hadn’t felt her heartbeat racing against mine. Like she hadn’t moaned my name.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my thrusts growing rougher, angrier.

The woman gasped, nails digging into the sheets. I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t. I was chasing something I knew I wouldn’t find.

My chest burned. My muscles tensed. Every part of me was screaming her name, even when I tried to bite it back.

Aria.

I shouldn’t even be thinking it.

I was her bodyguard. Her shadow. Her protector. I was the man who would take a bullet for her, not the one who should be imagining how she’d taste, how she’d sound if I ever had her.

But I was losing control.

I slammed harder, faster, the bed shaking under us. The woman moaned again, louder this time, but it didn’t reach me. My mind wasn’t here. It was back in that boutique, her lips pressed to mine, her voice breaking as she whispered my name.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the wave building inside me. I didn’t want this release. I didn’t want this woman. I wanted her.

Her voice. Her defiance. Her fire.

The way she looked at me like she hated me—and maybe she did—but it didn’t matter. Because when I touched her, she melted.

Every damn time.

I could still feel the tremor in her body when I kissed her. The soft gasp that left her lips when I dragged the zipper down. The heat in her skin when I lifted her onto that table.

I remembered every second.

Every breath. Every sound. Every taste.

And I’d been haunted by it ever since.

“Alessandro,” the woman moaned, breaking me out of it.

I froze.

The name coming from her mouth felt wrong. Disrespectful.

She didn’t have the right to say it.

“Quiet,” I growled, my voice low and sharp.

She whimpered but obeyed. I moved again, rougher this time, almost punishing myself for the thoughts in my head. My body was giving in, chasing the edge I couldn’t stop, even though my mind screamed at me to.

My fingers dug into her hips. My breath came fast, heavy, ragged.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

I wanted Aria.

Her anger. Her sadness. Her strength. Her damn mouth. I wanted all of it. I wanted to tear down her walls, make her say my name again—not in hate, but in need.

And that thought—just that thought—was enough to make everything snap.

A low curse tore from my throat as I finally let go, my whole body tensing, the world going white for a second.

But even in that moment, when every muscle locked and my heart pounded so hard it hurt—

All I could see was her.

Her face. Her lips. Her eyes.

Not this stranger. Not the woman beneath me.

I groaned, frustration burning in my chest as I pulled away, chest heaving. The woman collapsed on the bed, whispering something I didn’t care to hear.

I didn’t even answer.

I stood up, dragging a hand through my hair, pacing the room. My body still trembled, my head spinning, but not from pleasure. From rage.

Rage at myself.

I should’ve been stronger.

But I wasn’t.

Because I was weak when it came to her.

Every damn night since that one kiss, I’d lost sleep. Every cold shower did nothing. Every time I looked at her, I saw what I couldn’t have.

Her soft lips. The way she crossed her arms when she was angry, trying to look unshaken but failing miserably.

I’d memorized her.

Every piece of her.

And that was the problem.

I’d been trained to kill, to protect, to obey. Never to feel.

But Aria Moretti had turned my control into ashes.

I grabbed a towel, wiped my face, and looked at the woman still lying on the bed. She smiled faintly, trying to pull me back in.

“Stay,” she whispered.

I almost laughed.

Stay?

I couldn’t even stay in my own skin.

“Get dressed,” I said, my voice cold. “You can leave.”

Her smile fell. “Did I do something wrong?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have the patience to fake kindness.

I turned away, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it on, the buttons slipping through my shaking fingers.

The air still smelled like her perfume—sweet, artificial. It made me sick.

When I was done, I poured myself a drink. Whiskey. Straight. No ice. I downed it in one gulp, the burn hitting my throat hard.

I wanted it to hurt.

I wanted something to remind me I was still in control.

But I wasn’t. Not anymore.

The mirror caught my reflection—jaw tight, eyes dark, a muscle ticking near my temple.

I looked like a man on the edge.

Because I was.

Because she’d put me there.

That woman. That spoiled, dangerous, infuriating woman who didn’t even know what she did to me.

Every time she looked at me, I wanted to ruin her. Every time she spoke, I wanted to silence her with my mouth. Every time she walked away, I wanted to drag her back.

And I couldn’t.

Because she was off-limits.

Because the man who’d raised me like a son would have my head if he ever found out what I’d done.

I was the Don’s weapon. His assassin. His loyal soldier.

And she was his daughter.

Untouchable.

Unreachable.

Forbidden.

But that didn’t change the truth.

When I was inside that woman tonight, chasing a release I didn’t even want, it wasn’t her name that echoed in my mind.

It was Aria’s.

I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, breath shaky.

I tried to think of something else—anything else—but it was useless.

All I could see was her.

I’d told myself it was a mistake. That it couldn’t happen again. That I’d forget it.

But I hadn’t.

I couldn’t.

She was poison. Sweet and slow and deadly. And I was already too far gone.

I’d built my life on control—on silence, on rules, on killing emotions before they ever grew.

But now I didn't know anymore.

I set the glass down hard, the sound echoing through the empty room.

I hated this feeling.

I hated that she owned me like this—without even knowing it.

The woman on the bed was dressing now, silent, careful not to look at me. I didn’t stop her. When she left, I didn’t move. I just stood there, staring at the door long after it closed.

The silence was deafening.

I dragged a hand down my face and muttered under my breath. “I’m screwed.”

Because no matter how much I fought it, no matter how many times I told myself she was forbidden—

All I could think about was Aria.

And deep down, I knew it.

I was already completely.

Hopelessly.

Fucked.