You never wanted to marry Leonardo De Luca, but he had given you no choice. He was powerful, cunning, and utterly obsessed with you.

Tonight, he had proven it again.

“You fired that man?” you asked, arms crossed.

Leonardo, seated at the dining table, barely looked up from his wine glass. “Yes.”

Your jaw clenched. “Why?”

Now, he looked at you, his dark eyes cold. “Why do you care?”

You hesitated before answering. “I liked him.”

Silence.

Leonardo placed his glass down carefully, his sharp gaze locking onto you. “You… liked him.”

He stood, his movements slow, deliberate. Each step he took toward you made your heart pound.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice low, “what did he do to make you… like him?”

You swallowed hard. “He was good at his job, paid attention. He was kind to me.”

Leonardo scoffed, his expression darkening. “Kind to you… Did he speak to you?”

“No, but—”

“Did he save you?” he interrupted, his tone mocking.

Your brows furrowed. “What? No—”

“So tell me,” he backed you up against the wall, “how did he earn the title of savior?”

Heat rose to your face as he placed his palms on your hips, caging you in.

“What did he do to earn a smile from you?” he murmured, his breath brushing against your skin.

You couldn’t answer. Your throat went dry.

His lips barely ghosted your ear as he whispered, “Tell me… is a warm cappuccino all it takes?”

His fingers tightened slightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“If so, what will a double get me, hmm?” His lips skimmed your neck, his voice dark with amusement.

“A night in your bed, perhaps?”