Lust or Logic?

Lust or Logic?
Alice’s POV

I made my way into the living room. It was quiet—less crowded than before. Just Silas and two bodyguards stationed by the door.

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach. I wanted to talk to him alone, but with those men watching, privacy was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I sighed.

Guess I’ll have to keep my voice down, I thought.

My footsteps were soft against the floor as I moved closer. Silas was seated, his back to me, a laptop balanced on his thighs as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

For a second, I was tempted to hover behind him—snoop a little, maybe catch something useful on the screen. But I quickly thought better of it. 

The guards were watching, and even if they weren’t, I probably wouldn’t understand whatever he was working on.

I stepped into his view, and the moment he noticed me, his eyes snapped up.

“Alice?” He called, surprised.

A small smile curled at my lips. “I see you’re busy,” I whispered, sliding into a seat on the sofa closest to his.

He stopped typing, closing the laptop slightly as he turned his full attention to me. There was something in his eyes—he tried to hide it, but I saw it. Worry. Just a flicker, but enough to notice.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, his brow lifting slightly.

I hesitated. My request lodged in my throat like a heavy stone. I’d made up my mind to work with Silas… but I hadn’t figured out how to ask.

“Alice.” His voice sharpened with impatience, the low growl in his tone making my skin prickle. Those gray eyes of his locked onto mine, waiting.

“I…” I started, then faltered. My throat was dry. “Silas, I need your—”

“Alice.”

A voice cut through, sharp and commanding, one that wasn’t Silas’s. It was Tiberio, his steel-like authority sending a shiver down my spine, stirring a mix of fear and unwanted heat. 

I froze, my body tensing,

From the edge of my vision, I saw Silas’s jaw tighten. His grip on the laptop clenched. His knuckles turned white.

My eyes drifted to the staircase where Tiberio stood, his powerful frame dominating the space, hands tucked into his pockets.

He didn’t wear a pleasant expression. Then again, he never did. He was either scowling, growling, or smirking. That’s it.

But this time… there was nothing. No scowl. No smirk. Just a blankness in his eyes that told me all I needed to know.

Reid must’ve ratted me out, and finding me with Silas again was gasoline on his already smoldering rage. 

But why does he care? I thought, irritation flaring. 

It’s just a conversation with his brother. Nothing more. Even if it was more, why should it matter to him?

“I want a word with you,” Tiberio bellowed, his voice a command, not a request, leaving no room for defiance.

I sighed inwardly. I didn’t want to be near him, much less talk to him. He was unpredictable, dangerous. And somehow, being in a room with him felt like standing at the edge of a cliff in a storm.

Could Silas intervene? I glanced at him, hoping he’d sense my tremor, but his expression was hard, unreadable, and he stayed silent. 

Tiberio’s hawk-like eyes pinned me, daring me to resist, and I knew I had no choice.

Mentally bracing myself, I rose, my legs unsteady. 

“Talk to you later,” I mumbled to Silas, avoiding his gaze as I passed. Each step toward Tiberio felt like marching to my doom, 

As I neared Tiberio, he turned and walked ahead, his back rigid, muscles tense beneath his shirt. I followed, my pulse drumming hard in my throat.

We reached his office door. He pushed it open with effortless strength and stepped inside, but I lingered at the threshold.

I didn’t want to enter, didn’t know if I’d walk out alive—or whole. Tiberio had a way of breaking me, tearing me apart with words or worse, and I wasn’t ready for the storm he’d unleash.

His hiss of annoyance sliced through the silence, and before I could react, he seized my wrist, yanking me into the office with a sharp tug. 

The door slammed shut, and the rich scent of his cologne hit me— dizzying and overwhelming. 

He pinned me against the cold wall, his body pressing into mine, his weight rigid. 

I felt him—his chest, his heat, and the hard press of his arousal against my front, a reminder of his power over me.

“You’ve pushed me to my limit, bellissima,” he growled, his voice a beastly rumble that vibrated through me, his breath hot against my skin.

I barely had time to gasp before he lifted my chin, his grip firm, and crashed his lips onto mine, a bruising, possessive kiss that stole my breath and set my world ablaze.

A strangled moan escaped my lips, raw and pained, as I fought against his grip, but his strength was a force of nature—powerful, intoxicating, and utterly merciless.

I tried to resist him. I really did. But Tiberio was too strong—too powerful, too intoxicating. 

One hand pinned my wrists above my head, forcing me to arch against the cold wall. His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging into my flesh, anchoring me to him as if I were his to claim.

This kiss wasn’t gentle; it was a violation, a conquest, and yet it awakened something buried deep within me. 

I hadn’t kissed anyone in two years—not since Rick, the night before my concert, before my world shattered into betrayal and captivity. 

That memory stung, but Tiberio’s lips, fierce and unapologetic, burned it away, igniting a fire I’d thought long dead. 

My body, traitorous and aching, responded to it like it had been starved.

His tongue slid against mine, slow at first, then possessive, commanding. He kissed like a man used to owning everything he touched, and his mouth was a promise of ruin.

My chest burned as I tried to twist free, but every movement only made me more aware of him—of the way our bodies aligned, of the way his erection pressed against my stomach through layers of clothing.

I was breathless. Drowning in him.

And somewhere in the haze of struggle and heat, something flickered low in my belly—something shameless and wild. 

His lips molded perfectly over mine, his mouth tasting like danger and dominance, and god help me, I wanted more.

I hated myself for it.

My wrists strained beneath his grip, but my thighs clenched together. My clit shamelessly ached for more even as my mind screamed to resist. 

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was a war between my shameless, throbbing clit, and my weak logic crumbling under his assault.

And worst of all? I didn’t know which part of me I wanted to win.