chap

After the wedding, I moved into the Moretti estate—a veritable fortress nestled on Long Island.

It was Vittorio’s private domain, and my first time setting foot inside. The interior screamed stark opulence, a landscape dominated by black marble and dark mahogany, with discreet security systems woven into every corner.

After Through the frosted glass of the bathroom door, I could make out the faint, towering outline of his silhouette.

My cheeks burned with a sudden, inexplicable tension, and I quickly averted my gaze.

Moments later, the water stopped. When Vittorio emerged from the bathroom, I looked up instinctively. He was wearing a day spent with my nerves pulled taut as piano strings, I felt gross, my skin coated in a sticky film of cold sweat and dried champagne. While Vittorio went to shower, I collapsed onto a leather sofa, unstrapping the gun holster concealed against my thigh.

The sound of rushing water filled the silence. a robe, the collar hanging loose to reveal a chest and abdomen rippled with muscle and mapped with old scars. Far from marring his appearance, the marks only added a dangerous, feral allure to his physique.

My eyes widened; I was mesmerized.

I hadn't expected his body to be so off the water that I realized my mistake: I hadn't brought a change of clothes into the bathroom. *Great.*

With no other option, I cracked the door open a sliver and called out, "Vittorio? I forgot my clothes. Could you pass me the bag from the sofa?"

... sculpted for violence.

Vittorio caught my stare, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Elena, perhaps you should take a shower, too," he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. "Unless you plan on sleeping with that gun strapped to you all night."

I snapped back to reality, my face burning as I bolted for the bathroom. As the water cascaded over me, my mind kept replaying that look—the predatory glint in his eyes.

How had I never noticed before that this terrifying Godfather was so damn magnetic?

It wasn't until I turnedSilence answered me at first. I wondered if he had already retreated to his study to attend to business. Just as I was about to call out again, his voice came from right outside the door, slightly huskier than before. "Sure."

I heard the heavy thud of his footsteps, followed by a knock on the door. "Here."

I widened the crack just enough to slide my arm through, reaching blindly.

"Thanks," I mumbled, moving to shut the door quickly.

But in that split second before the latch clicked, I caught his gaze. His eyes were dark, burning, looking at me like I was prey caught in his trap.

My face went crimson.

*Oh, God.* He hadn’t handed me the whole bag. In my hand was nothing but the scrap of black lace lingerie I had prepared for our wedding night.