I step back, breaking the physical connection. The cold air of the fourteenth floor rushes in, replacing her heat. The loss is a sharp ache in my chest.
I turn my back on her and stalk toward the far window. I need distance. I need the tactical baseline.
The street below is a ribbon of black concrete and yellow streetlights. Empty. Quiet.
The Bellantis are out there. Searching.
My hands grip the rotting windowsill. The wood splinters under my fingers.
My cock still rages against my fly. The wetness from her climax coats my thumb. I lift it to my face and inhale.
Fuck.
I am spiraling. The specialist is sidelined. Only the predator remains.
If anyone touches her, I will paint the streets with their blood.
I force myself to scan the perimeter. The rooftops across the street. The alleyways. The shadows.
Nothing moves.
"Dante," Gemma says softly from the center of the room.
I don't turn around. I can't. If I look at her right now, standing there in my shirt, flushed and thoroughly ruined by my hands, I will throw her onto that bare mattress and bury myself inside her until we both stop breathing.
"Get some sleep, Gemma. I have the watch."
"You need sleep too."
"I don't sleep."
It is the truth. For twenty years, sleep has been a battlefield. A dark place where the phone rings endlessly and Matteo's voice cracks and the rain washes our father's blood into the gutters.
I cannot sleep without clearing every room. And this hotel is a labyrinth of uncleared rooms. Fourteen floors of darkness and decay.
"You can't stand guard forever," she challenges. The sass is returning. The defiance.
"Watch me."
She huffs a breath, the sound loud in the quiet suite. The springs of the bed groan as she climbs back onto the mattress. The rustle of the fabric. The soft sigh as she settles.
Every sound is amplified in my ears.
I remain at the window. The cold draft chills the sweat on my back.
The ache in my groin slowly begins to subside into a dull throb. The agonizing restraint is a badge of honor. A proof that I can still control the beast. Barely.
I pull my phone from my pocket. No signal. The dead zone.
Good. Isolation is safety.
Matteo knows we are here. He will cover our tracks at the compound. He will keep the rest of the family from tearing the city apart prematurely.
Matteo is the only one who knows about this fallback location. The old Costa properties. He won't send an extraction team until the heat dies down. Until the streets are clear.
We have time.
We’re trapped together in this expensive tomb.
