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His fingers brushed against my cheek and I nearly moaned at his touch.

"Perhaps you should be the one worried," I countered, bringing my hand to rest on his chest. "I'm not easily controlled, Marco."

“Who says I want to control you?”

“All Dons want to control everything around them, even their women. Especially their women. Why is that? Are Dons secretly insecure?”

"You've always been too bold for your own good, Gabriella," he said, stepping closer to me. The air zapped with energy radiating between us. All I could think waskiss me, touch me.

"And you've always been too controlled for yours," I replied. "Always observing, never participating. Don't you ever tire of standing apart? Don’t you ever want to be a part of life? Of living?"

He took my wrist, and I thought he was going to remove my hand, but instead he held it there. "There are advantages to observation. I see things others miss."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Trouble. Beautiful trouble."

I laugh. "At least you admit I'm beautiful."

"That was never in question.”

"You know, my father thinks I should be afraid of you."

"Your father is a wise man."

I moved even closer. "I feel many things here with you, Marco Calabresi, but fear isn't one of them."

He traced my jaw with his thumb, tilting my face up to his. "What do you feel, then?"

"Curiosity. Anticipation." I paused, wondering if he was toying with me. "Heat."

"You’re playing with fire, Gabriella Monti," he warned me, his hand cupping my cheek.

"Perhaps." I brushed my fingers along the back of his neck. "But some flames are worth the burn."

The next moment, my body was flush against his and his lips were claiming mine.

He tasted like darkness and danger, but I wasn’t afraid. No, I wanted more.

My fingers threaded through his hair as I pressed myself closer.

The kiss deepened, turning from exploration to demand.

I knew this was a bad idea, but I didn’t care as he pressed me against the bookshelf, his hand sliding into the slit of my dress, sending a surge of white-hot need through me as he caressed the skin of my thigh.

"I've wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit.” His confession made me feel triumphant.

"I know. I've seen the way you watch me when you think no one's looking."

"And what else do you think you know about what I want?"

I laugh. "That you want to discover every inch of me. That you want to know if I'm as fearless in bed as I am facing down the most dangerous Don in New York." I’d always been outspoken, but even in that moment, I’d surprised myself by how daring I was.

He cupped my cheek again. "You understand that I'm not looking for a wife. I don't do fairy tales or happy endings."

"Who said anything about marriage?” I wasn’t totally against marriage in theory, but I understood that by getting married, especially in this life, I’d have to give up my independence.

I wasn’t interested in that. “Perhaps I just want to know if the great Marco Calabresi lives up to his reputation."