Alessio knew she was furious.
He could feel it in the rigid line of her shoulders, in the way her fists trembled at her sides.
Her body was a live wire of defiance and fury.
And yet—
She was still here.
Still in his world.
Still his.
Even if she refused to admit it yet.
A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips.
Elena hated him.
Despised him.
But he'd seen it—the way her body had reacted despite her rage.
The way her breath had hitched when he touched her.
The way her pulse had betrayed her.
She wanted to run.
But she wasn't running now.
He turned back to face her, taking his time, drinking her in.
Her chest still rose and fell too fast.
Her lips were still parted, breath unsteady.
She was trying so hard to keep herself together.
And failing.
Alessio tilted his head.
"How long will you keep pretending, piccola?"
Elena's eyes flashed.
"Don't look at me like that," she hissed.
His smirk deepened.
"Like what?" he mused, stepping closer.
She stiffened.
"Like you own me," she spat.
Alessio chuckled, dark and knowing.
"Ah, but I do."
Her teeth clenched.
"No, you don't," she snapped.
He moved.
Fast.
One moment, he was standing a few feet away—
The next, he was in front of her.
So close that she had to tilt her chin up just to glare at him.
She didn't step back.
He liked that.
Liked that she was too stubborn, too proud.
It would make it all the more satisfying when she finally broke.
Alessio's fingers brushed her jaw.
She sucked in a breath.
Froze.
He felt the tremor in her body.
Watched as her lips parted, as her pulse hammered beneath her skin.
But she didn't move away.
Didn't pull back.
She was caught.
Trapped between her own hatred and something deeper, darker.
Something she didn't want to name.
Alessio's lips curved.
His thumb traced the delicate line of her throat.
Elena's breath hitched.
"Say it again," he murmured.
She blinked, confused.
His fingers tightened just enough to remind her of who was in control.
"Say that I don't own you," he said softly.
A challenge.
A trap.
Her nails dug into her palms.
"I—"
She stopped.
Because if she said it now—like this—
They would both know it was a lie.
Alessio chuckled.
Leaning in, he let his lips brush against her ear.
Low.
Dark.
Commanding.
"I can wait, Elena."
Her breath shuddered.
His fingers slid lower, tracing the curve of her collarbone.
"You'll say it one day."
She hated him.
Hated how he was winning.
Hated that her body wasn't fighting him anymore.
Alessio pulled back, smirking down at her.
"Now be a good girl and get some rest."
Her hands trembled.
But she didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because he was right.
He could wait.
And that was the most dangerous part.
Because deep down—
She wasn't sure how long she could keep fighting.