"Where are they carrying all these bags?" Melissa stared at three suited men staggering under towers of boxes.
"To fill your new closets. You'll need them when you visit."
"*What?* That's like half the store!" she gasped.
"We'll get the other half later," I said.
"But."
"No but, they're for me. I *want* to see you in them. Come now, you're exhausted. Let's get you home."
She yawned, hand covering her mouth, nose crinkling as if I'd reminded her how drained she was.
"Long day," she admitted, batting her lashes, but she seemed rejuvenated as we stepped outside. "Isn't the city gorgeous at night? Yellow lights, quiet streets, buildings glowing blue under the moon!" She twirled beneath a lamp post.
"Never noticed before," I admitted, seeing it anew. "Night meant danger in my world. Shadows to evade, even when *I* was the threat."
"You don't have to hide with me, Christian. I've got *guns*!" She flexed her biceps.
I gripped her arm, steering her to the car. "Inside before you terrorize the block." She hopped in, rubbing her arms against the chill. I hit the convertible button to seal the roof.
"Knew exactly what I wanted, my guns were getting cold." She giggled.
The engine roared as I turned the keys. The ride was calm and silent. Melissa stole glances at me, smiling and looking down each time. If only I could know what she was thinking.
But mine kept betraying me— Her naked body kept creeping into my mind: the pride with which she'd flaunted herself, every inch carved by years of training. The curves of her chest, her toned, tan stomach, the delicate red string beneath her navel… I craved to rip it off with my teeth, pin her down, devouring her...
"Where are we going? Aren't you gonna drive me home?" Melissa asked, Nervousness crept into her voice. "Dad'll murder me if I'm late."
"He won't," I answered calmly, swerving the car through the dark, square bushes of my neighborhood—a stretch of land I'd bought entirely around my mansion, where few houses sheltering guards stood. "He's sleeping at his new girlfriend's penthouse."
"How the *hell* would you know that?" she demanded, visibly upset.
"I've had men watch your father. Nothing sinister—just protection. You and your family could become targets now that you're seen with me."
"You did *what?* Why are you bothering Pa? I'm a nobody—I don't want your men watching us 24/7!"
"Melissa, calm down. They're precautions. No one watches *you*. You're under *my* sight." I took her hand while driving, threading my fingers through hers. "He won't even know you're not home, he has his own life."
"I guess I have no choice if he's not home," she said, vulnerability thinning her voice as she stared out the window. "I forgot to bring my keys."
"You always have a choice, feisty girl. You can always shove a basket through your window and climb inside," I joked.
"*Hey!*" She smacked my thigh, laughing. "You weren't supposed to see that!"
The mansion gates swung open as guards recognized my car. Melissa's curiosity flared, her gaze lifting to the villa as I parked mid-garden near the cascading fountain.
One of my men opened her door; I offered my arm, and she gripped it with elegant poise as we ascended the stairs.
We stepped inside.
Her blue eyes darted around, inspecting every corner while pretending to stare ahead—as if I'd blindfold her for looking too long. "Such a vast foyer… Do you live here alone?"
"There's staff. I'm a busy man—need helping hands. But tonight," I said, leaning against the leather sofa's edge, "the mansion is ours."
She flashed an innocent look, like a rabbit cornered. I smirked. "You're hungry. I promised to dine you. Go take a shower while I cook the most succulent meal you've tasted. You'll find the clothes we purchased already hanging in the bathroom."
"*Oh-ho*, Mr. Marasco's cooking for me! Don't you have maids or cooks for that?"
I stepped closer, tilting her chin up. "No. I trust no one to touch my food or guard my woman." Her wide eyes locked on mine, brows pinched.
I adored that face...glossy lips parted over faintly prominent teeth, golden curls grazing her neck, veins fluttering at the lightest touch of her own hair. So sensitive.
"But your house is enormous. What if I get lost?" She clung to defiance.
"Then I'll tear it down. Room by room, wall by wall, until I find you."
"But then—" Her finger tapped my chest, unbuttoning my shirt playfully "—you'd barge in while I'm curled in the bath, leg dangling to the side, and I'd have to shriek and cover myself."
"No need to hide. I've already seen how*perky red* your nipples turn around me."
She choked back a nervous laugh, cheeks blazing as she looked down to hide her embarrassment. "Thought you weren't looking. I'll… go shower. Excuse me." She turned the wrong way.
"Door's to your right." I corrected, "scrub yourself *thoroughly* girl, or I'll come and wash you myself."
She hugged her arms, casting me a sideways glance and smirk as she retreated. She could feel every word I said.
Now that I had her in my house, I truly felt she was mine. I'd never let her leave. I wanted to make her the happiest woman alive.
I strode to the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves, and plunged my arm into the aquarium to fish out two lobsters. Two massive males battled at the far end, a female lurking near the den.
I waited until the victor emerged, sending the loser scrambling, then seized the winner and his mate. Exotic fish darted away as I hauled the thrashing pair out, claws snapping at air.
A quick plunge into boiling saltwater silenced them. I sealed the pot.
Melted butter sizzled in a pan with lemon, garlic, and a bundle of asparagus. Then I raided my antique wine collection—bottles centuries old, curated with obsession.
Tonight demanded celebration: a Sauvignon Blanc, aged to perfection. I uncorked it, swirling the glass to release its honeyed aroma.
"What's that smell? *Yum!*" Melissa's voice chimed through the halls, bright as bells.
"Dinner's ready. Sit," I called, turning to find her in linen pajamas, face glowing, toenails painted wine-red. Her damp blonde hair hung in heavy curls, gleaming like gold. How could I *not* adorn her? She was born radiant.
She took her seat at the table. I retrieved the lobster—now crimson and steaming—from the pot, cracking its claws and shell with precision before drizzling melted butter over the meat and arranging asparagus beside it.
I mirrored the steps for my own plate. "Dig in, beautiful. You're dining on tonight's champion."
"Oh my God, this is *divine*," she mumbled around her first bite, cheeks bulging. "Too bad I missed the fight!"
"I'm sure they'll replay it on pay-per-view," I deadpanned, slicing into the tender flesh.
"I've never had lobster for dinner before. Is this an aphrodisiac ploy, Mr. Marasco? Trying to *heighten* my mood?" She smirked, food puffing her cheek.
"No need for tricks," I said, pouring wine into her glass. "I know you'd let me have my way already."
"Then why don't you?" Her tone dared me, testing my restraint.
"Because tonight, it'd come from possessiveness, not devotion," I admitted, voice low. "You deserve to be cherished first… so you'll forgive what I'll do to you in bed afterward."
Her eyes sparkled, not with fear but fascination, as if she were already imagining the fantasy.
She gripped my hand, leaning in. "I *want* you. I've been thinking in the shower about our situation. Yes, dad might disown me. Mom would faint. I'm not even sure my friends would support my decision. But I've made my choice—I want you. Only you."
"Melissa, listen. My world's full of threats. Being mine means standing against syndicates and enemy families. Ready for such a life?"
She sipped her wine, clutching the glass like a chalice. "Expect less of me? I'm a woman built for poetic danger. It's ride or die."