Page 11 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

I lift my head to see Adrian, leaning casually against the balustrade, one hand shoved in his pants pocket and the other holding a burning cigar to his lips. Then my traitorous heart starts to race for another reason entirely.

His hair is messy, with a few stray tendrils spiking out to give him this rugged look. And fuck, the way his smooth jaws catch the light as he blows a cloud of smoke doesn’t help the wild stir in my stomach.

“What,” he deadpans, brown eyes holding mine darkly, “exactly are you doing?”

And suddenly I’m back to my senses. I scoff. Why is he smoking on duty anyway, and indoors for fuck’s sake?

“Question is what are you doing?” I retort, gesturing to the cigar etched between his knuckles. “Polluting my air with that cancer stick.”

He doesn’t answer. Just dips his eyes, assessing my outfit from head to toe. For some reason, I feel… stupid, so I quickly say, “I was going for my daily run.” The excuse sounds pathetic even to me.

He glances at his wristwatch but still doesn’t reply. It’s infuriating the way he uses silence like a weapon. His face looks carved from stone, jaw set, eyes dark and assessing as he brings them back to my face.

Let me give him something to be really quiet about.

“How do you think the Don would feel when I tell him the man who should guard his cherished Princess was busy choking on his own—”

“Careful, Principessa (Princess),” he interrupts roughly. “I hate lies.”

“Then it’s a pity I don’t,” I smirk in his face, half expecting him to flare up. But instead, he pulls the cigar from his lips with careful precision, then eyes my frame again, and this time I feel naked.

“My patience is thinner than that disguise, Elena. Turn the fuck around.”

My name rolls off his tongue with a certain cadence that weakens my legs. “I wasn’t sneaki—”

Something snaps inside me. Oh, hell no; he doesn’t get to talk to me like I’m some fucking teenager.

“You have no right to order me around,” I grit out.

He chuckles dryly, the sound making my outbursts seem completely foolish. When he straightens himself from the railing and takes a hand out of his pocket, I swallow.

“Oh, Principessa, I do,” he smirks, then starts stalking toward me until I’m crowded against the wall. “And I own the consequences when you break them.”

My pulse stutters as he raises two strong arms to cage the side of my head. Smoke mixed with the scent of cologne wafts through my nostrils, and for a split second, I almost melt into him.

As if sensing my internal battle, he rumbles, and I quickly snap my eyes open, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of defeat.

“Move,” my voice is as tight as can be. “I’m taking my run… without you.”

I try to sidestep him, but that’s a wrong move as one of his hands falls from the wall to wrap around my waist while he growls.

“Your freedom ends where my responsibility begins. You don’t draw a damn breath unless I approve.”

My blood boils at his words. “You must be forgetting that you fucking work for me.”

“Then that makes you mine to protect,” he smiles devilishly. Then his gaze drops to my lips. “To command...”

It takes sheer willpower not to fall apart from the intensity of his gaze. I scoff. His to command? Oh, his ego is as big as his dick.

“You’re messing with my schedule. I wonder what Enzo would say when I te—”

“Your run is scheduled for 6:30. Don’t fucking test me.” His nostrils flare in anger as he slams a fist beside my head. I pause but don’t back down.

“Get off me, Adrian.”

He arches a brow, amusement replacing anger.

“Try again.” He tightens his hold on my waist, and to my shame, heat pools between my thighs.