Chapter 55

*Grace POV*

I stayed curled in Elio’s lap, wrapped in his warmth, feeling like nothing else in the world could matter. He had one arm firmly around my waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my hip as if to keep me grounded to him, like he feared I might slip away. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to move, and he seemed equally content to have me so close.

I finally spoke, voicing the question that had been circling in my mind. “Where is Moretti? He could help us figure out if it was your father who manipulated mine.”

At the mention of Moretti’s name, Elio’s entire body tensed. He responded by sliding his hand slowly up my thigh, the warmth of his fingers leaving a trail of tingling sensation. My breath hitched, and a shiver raced through me, making my resolve falter.

“I don’t think Moretti will be able to help us with anything now,” he murmured, his fingers grazing higher, making my pulse flutter as his touch reached dangerous territory.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my focus despite the haze his touch created. “But…you captured him, didn’t you? You brought him here to get information.”

Elio’s lips curved into a slight, dark smile, and his gaze held mine with an intensity that made my heart pound. “No, tesoro. I captured him because he dared to harm you. No one touches you and lives to tell about it. So I hurt him back—and now he’s where he deserves to be.”

He leaned forward, pressing kisses to my neck, each one igniting a fire beneath my skin. My resolve wavered as I clung to him, my body softening in his hold. Somewhere in the back of my mind, his words about Moretti registered, but they were quickly overpowered by the warmth of his mouth on my skin.

“Where…is he?” I managed to ask, though my words came out breathless, my mind fogging as his kisses drifted lower, each one coaxing a quiet whimper from my lips.

His lips trailed down the side of my neck and as far down my collarbone as my blouse would allow. “He’s dead,” he whispered against my skin. “He didn’t survive the interrogation.”

I knew I should be shocked. Elio had told me, point-blank, that he had killed Moretti. But instead of horror, a thrill rippled through me, overtaken by the powerful need I felt for him. No one had ever made me feel like this before, made me want to give in to sin so willingly. With Elio, I wanted it all; I was a sinner.

His hand brushed dangerously close to the place where I needed him most, and I shivered, biting back a moan as my body responded instantly, shamelessly, to his touch. It was as if my mind no longer had control, my body betraying every bit of restraint I had tried to hold.

“Elio…” I whispered, unable to form any coherent thought other than the desire boiling within me. He was everything dark and dangerous that I should fear—and yet here I was, desperate for him.

He paused, his fingers hovering an inch from where I ached for him, his eyes filled with restraint and intense longing as he looked at me. “Grace…if you don’t want me to touch you, if this terrifies you…stop me now.”

I met his gaze, seeing both the fiery need in his eyes and the quiet, almost vulnerable patience beneath. My heart swelled with an overwhelming certainty. “Why would your touch terrify me?” I whispered, my words laced with confidence.

A muscle tightened in his jaw, his eyes flickering with a trace of doubt. “Because I’m older, Grace. I’m not like other men.” He spoke the words like he hated them, as though his age made him unworthy of me.

“And yet,” I breathed, leaning in so that my lips brushed his ear, “I want you to touch me.”

His restraint crumbled as I whispered those words, and I could see the heat intensifying in his gaze. But just as he leaned in, about to capture my lips in a kiss that would certainly undo me, a firm knock on the office door shattered the moment.

We both froze, our breaths coming fast and shallow as reality intruded on us. I slid off his lap, my cheeks burning, and quickly tried to smooth my clothes, feeling flustered and frustrated by the interruption. Elio ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, steadying breath before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Matteo stepped inside, casting a quick glance between the two of us. If he noticed the blush on my cheeks or the tension between us, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, his expression was grave as he turned his attention to Elio.

“Elio,” he said, his voice low, “we need to talk.”

Elio’s demeanor shifted in an instant, his gaze sharpening as he gave Matteo his full attention. “What is it?”

Matteo hesitated for a moment, then cast a wary glance my way. “It’s about your father. We’ve received intelligence that he’s…planning something. It appears he intends to dethrone you.”

The weight of Matteo’s words settled heavily in the room, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Dethrone him? That meant that Sony was actively plotting against his own son, seeking to take back control of the empire he had relinquished to Elio.

Elio’s jaw clenched, his face hardening with barely restrained fury. “So, he’s finally making his move,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I knew he wouldn’t just sit idly by.”

I could see the tension radiating from him, his fists clenched as he processed the news. This was the betrayal he had feared, the reason he had been so cautious, so unwilling to let his guard down—even with me. It all made sense now.

“Do you have any idea how he plans to do it?” Elio asked, his tone icy.

Matteo nodded. “He’s been gathering allies from within your ranks, appealing to their loyalty to him. They see him as the rightful head of the family and believe you’re too…sentimental to rule with the same authority.”

Elio’s gaze flicked to me for a brief second, a glimmer of pain hidden beneath his hardened expression. It was clear that some part of him feared Matteo’s words were true—that perhaps he was weaker for allowing me close, for feeling anything at all.

I stepped forward, reaching for his hand, needing him to feel my support. “Elio, you’re strong because you care, not in spite of it.”

A hint of vulnerability flickered in his eyes as he glanced down at our intertwined fingers. But just as quickly, he steeled himself, his resolve hardening.

“Matteo,” he said, his tone cold and resolute, “find out who his allies are. And be discreet. I don’t want anyone tipping him off.”

Matteo nodded, giving a quick, respectful bow before he left the room, closing the door behind him. The silence that followed was thick with tension, but also with an unspoken understanding.

I tightened my hold on Elio’s hand, grounding him in the face of his father’s betrayal. “Whatever happens, I’m here,” I said softly, my voice steady with conviction.

He looked at me, his gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and longing. “Grace…I don’t deserve this loyalty from you.”

I shook my head, stepping closer, until our faces were inches apart. “You do. More than anyone.”

A softness crept into his gaze, his hand lifting to cup my cheek. And in that moment, despite the chaos swirling around us, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed me, a deep, searing kiss that spoke of both desperation and a promise—one that he may not have been ready to put into words yet, but that I could feel all the same.