Elena wasn't sure how it happened.
One moment, she was standing on the dance floor, her body burning under Alessio's touch.
The next, she was in the back seat of a black luxury car, the city lights flashing past as they sped through the streets—toward a night she couldn't take back.
She should have told him no.
She should have gotten up from that seat and walked away.
But she hadn't.
Because the way he looked at her—the way he touched her—made her feel like she was something more than just a girl who didn't belong in a club like Inferno.
She felt wanted.
She felt desired.
She felt his.
And that should have scared her.
But instead, it thrilled her.
The car slowed, pulling in front of a towering glass penthouse.
Alessio didn't speak. He just got out, circled to her side, and opened the door.
She hesitated—one last chance to turn back.
But when she looked up at him, his silver-gray eyes glinting under the dim city lights, something inside her snapped.
And she stepped out.
Inside the Penthouse
The moment the elevator doors shut behind them, something changed.
Alessio turned to her—a slow, calculated movement that made her pulse quicken.
She barely had time to react before his hands were on her—pinning her against the cool metal walls, his body pressing against hers.
Her breath hitched, her fingers instinctively gripping his jacket.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his lips just inches from hers.
She should.
She needed to.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because all she could think about was the way he smelled—like expensive cologne and something dark, something dangerous.
All she could think about was the heat of his body, the way his hands held her in place like he owned her.
Alessio's fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his touch firm, possessive.
"You don't even know what you're getting yourself into, do you, piccola?" he whispered.
No.
She didn't.
But she was too far gone to care.
Alessio didn't wait any longer.
His lips crashed against hers, hard and unforgiving, swallowing the gasp that slipped past her lips.
Elena melted against him, her world spinning, her body burning as his hands roamed lower, gripping her waist, pulling her closer, closer, closer—
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open.
And Alessio pulled her out without a word.
The penthouse was sleek and modern, all dark marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
But Elena barely had time to take it in—
Because Alessio was already on her again.
His jacket hit the floor.
Her dress strap slipped off her shoulder.
His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"You're playing with fire, little one," he murmured, his voice thick with something dangerous.
Elena swallowed hard.
"I know."
And then—she let the fire consume her.