Page 71 of His

I nodded. “I think he believes he can use me somehow… get me to turn on you, or at least feed him information.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across Massimo’s lips. “Then he doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

I smiled back, feeling a surge of confidence. “No, he doesn’t. And I think he’s underestimating us.”

Massimo took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Good,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what we want. Let him think he has the upper hand.”

I reached out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. “But he’s dangerous, Massimo,” I whispered, my voice filled with concern. “He’s more cunning than I expected. We have to be careful.”

He nodded, his hand covering mine, his grip firm and reassuring. “I know,bella. But we have an advantage now—we know he’s watching us, trying to figure us out. We can use that against him.”

I leaned into him slightly, finding comfort in his strength, his presence. “What’s the next step?” I asked.

Massimo’s eyes softened, and he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “We keep playing our parts,” he replied. “We make him think the cracks between us are widening. We let him believe he’s getting closer to his goal.”

I nodded, understanding. “And then?”

His smile turned darker, more dangerous. “And then we take him down,” he said simply. “We hit him where it hurts, where he least expects it. But for now, we let him think he’s in control.”

I smiled back, feeling a thrill of excitement at the plan taking shape. “You really think we can outmaneuver him?”

Massimo’s eyes glittered with confidence. “I know we can,” he said firmly. “Because we’re smarter than he is. And we have something he doesn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “And what’s that?”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. I shivered and drew in a heated breath.

“Each other,” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “He doesn’t understand that. He’s always been alone, always worked alone. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone he can trust by his side.”

I felt a rush of warmth at his words, a sense of belonging that went deeper than anything I had felt before. “Then let’s show him,” I whispered back, my voice filled with resolve. “Let’s show him what it means to be underestimated.”

Massimo grinned, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Now, let’s get back out there. The night’s not over yet.”

I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “Let’s make him regret ever thinking he could play us,” I replied, my tone confident.

Massimo chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. “Oh, he will,” he promised. “By the time we’re done, he’ll wish he’d never set foot in this city.”

“Perfect,” I said with a grin.

Massimo’s hand tightened on mine, but instead of turning toward the door, he pulled me closer, his eyes darkening with a fierce intensity. My heart skipped a beat, my breath catching in my throat as I looked up at him and tried to figure out what he was up to.

His gaze was fixed on me, his jaw set, his expression a mixture of anger, desire, and something deeper—something primal. Hedidn’t say a word, but I could feel the shift in his mood, the way his grip on my hand became almost possessive, claiming.

“Massimo…” I whispered, unsure of what was coming next.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between us in one swift movement, his other hand coming up to curl around the back of my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me firmly in place as his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was fierce, demanding—a raw, hungry collision of lips and tongues. There was nothing gentle about it; it was a claiming, a statement, a promise all at once. I felt a growl rumble deep in his chest, vibrating against my skin, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

He pulled me tighter against him, his arm wrapping around my waist, pinning me against his body as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any space between us. His lips moved over mine with a desperate, relentless hunger, and I melted into him, my hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, needing to feel every inch of him.

“Mine,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough and filled with a possessive fire.

I gasped, my knees weakening at the intensity of his words, the way he said it with such certainty, such raw authority. He wasn’t asking; he was declaring, and I found myself loving every second of it.

“Yes,” I breathed, barely able to form the word as his mouth claimed mine again, deeper, more demanding.

He groaned, a sound that was both frustrated and satisfied, his hands roaming over my back, pulling me even closer.

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