Page 5 of Lord of Little Italy

"No," she whispers, "you're not."

The door opens, and we spring apart as a waiter enters to clear our plates. The meal passes in a blur of tension and loaded glances. We discuss business – the legitimate kind – but underneath every word is something else. Something that makes my skin burn and my control fray.

After dinner, I walk her to her car, my hand resting on the small of her back. The street is quiet, most businesses closed for the night. She feels small next to me, but I know better than to think she's fragile. This woman could probably kill me with her heel and make it look graceful.

"I should get home," she says, but makes no move to leave.

"You should." I step closer, backing her against her car. Every instinct I have is screaming that this is a mistake, that I should walk away now before I cross a line I can't uncross. Instead, I place my hand on the car beside her head, caging her in. "It's not safe out here at night."

She tilts her head back, looking up at me with those dark eyes that have haunted me for days. "Is that right? And here I thought I was with the most dangerous man in Little Italy."

"That's your first mistake," I growl, fighting every urge to close the distance between us. "Thinking I'm safe."

"Who said anything about safe?" Her hands slide up my chest, and my control snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight.

I kiss her like I've been drowning and she's air. She tastes like wine and danger, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. She matches my intensity, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I press her harder against the car. One of my hands tanglesin her hair while the other grips her hip, and she makes a sound that nearly breaks me.

A car horn blares in the distance, breaking the moment. I pull back, breathing hard, my forehead resting against hers. She's wrecked – lips swollen, hair messed up, chest heaving. I did that. I marked up the princess, and God help me, I want to do it again.

"This is a bad idea," I say, even as my body screams for more.

"The worst." She nips at my bottom lip, and I barely suppress a groan. "Want to come up to my place and make some more bad decisions?"

Every instinct I have tells me to say no. This could complicate everything. Put both our families at risk. Destroy the delicate balance we've built. Dominic would probably kill me, and he'd have every right to.

"Lead the way," I say instead.

Chapter 4

Isabella

The drive to Queens feels endless. Tony's hand rests on my thigh, setting my skin on fire. Every red light is torture - the way he looks at me makes me want to pull over and climb into his lap, reputation and consequences be damned.

When we finally reach my apartment building, the elevator ride is electric. We stand apart, but the space between us crackles with tension. His eyes meet mine in the mirrored walls, dark with promise. I watch his reflection, admiring how his suit stretches across his shoulders, how his jaw clenches when I deliberately lick my lips.

My hands shake slightly as I unlock my door. The moment it closes behind us, Tony spins me around, pressing me against it. His kiss is devastating - hungry and demanding. I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he pins me to the door.

"God, Isabella," he growls against my mouth. "You've been driving me crazy for days." His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips. "Every time you smile, every time youchallenge me..." He trails kisses down my neck, and I arch into him.

"Show me," I challenge, and his eyes darken further. "Show me what I do to you."

He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist. The powerful muscles under my hands remind me of our sparring match, of how perfectly we move together. He carries me toward my bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine.

When he tosses me onto the bed, I feel like prey being devoured by a predator - and I love it. The way he looks at me, like he wants to memorize every inch... He follows me down, bracing himself above me.

"You're beautiful," he says roughly, his hands sliding up my thighs, pushing my dress higher. "So fucking beautiful." His mouth claims mine again as his hands explore.

I push his jacket off his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him. His tie follows, then his shirt. Every inch of exposed skin is a revelation - smooth in some places, scarred in others. Battle marks from a life lived dangerously.

I gasp as his mouth finds my neck. "Tony…"

He watches me with an intensity that’s almost overwhelming, his gaze tracing over every inch of exposed skin, like he’s trying to commit it to memory. The weight of it, his complete attention, is intoxicating. His hands slide up my thighs again, fingertips grazing my skin, leaving a path of fire as they work their way higher, inch by torturous inch.

"Say my name," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with hunger. "Say my name like that again."

“Tony, please.”

I shiver under his touch, the warmth of his breath against my skin making every nerve stand on end. Slowly, he trails kisses up my thighs, his mouth leaving a tingling path that has me writhing beneath him. He holds my hips in place, his hands firm yet gentle, his thumbs brushing against my skin as he positions himself between my legs, his movements achingly slow, deliberate, and driving me wild with anticipation.

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