My name is Alessia Rossi, and if you had told me two years ago that I would be married to a mafia king, I would have laughed in your face. Or maybe cried. My father was a powerful man in the underworld, not the biggest, but dangerous enough. When he needed a strong alliance with the Valentino family, he didn’t offer money or territory.

He offered me.

Damien Valentino. One of the infamous Valentino twins. The deal was simple. I marry Damien, and our families become untouchable. I had no choice. I was twenty three, beautiful, educated, and reduced to nothing more than a business transaction.

At first, I hated him.

Damien was everything I despised, calm, calculated, dangerously charming. He had this soft, velvety voice that could make you melt even while he was ordering someone’s death.

The first six months of our marriage were pure torture.

I refused to let him touch me. Not once. I wanted him to suffer for being part of the reason my life was stolen from me. But the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because Damien Valentino was insanely hot. And he knew exactly how to make me suffer right back.

He started small.

He would “forget” to lock the bedroom door while he jerked off. I’d walk in after a long day and find him stroking that thick, perfect cock with slow, lazy movements, head tilted back, moaning my name like a prayer. He’d open his eyes, smirk, and say in that soft voice, “Want to join me, wife?”

I’d slam the door and run to the bathroom to cool down, thighs pressed together, hating how wet I got every single time.

Then there were the towels.

He’d walk out of the shower with one low on his hips, the V-line and dark pubic hair clearly visible, water still dripping down his abs. He’d “accidentally” brush past me, letting me feel the heat of his body. He never forced anything. He just… teased. Endlessly.

So I fought back.

I started wearing the shortest silk nightdresses that barely covered my ass. I’d bend over slowly to pick things up in front of him. After showers, I’d walk around in nothing but a tiny towel that threatened to slip any second. During his morning workouts, I’d join him in tiny shorts and a sports bra, stretching and doing yoga poses that pushed my ass out while he lifted weights. I could see the way his cock hardened in his sweatpants. I could see the hunger in his eyes.

But I never let him touch me.

Until that night.

It was a big party, one of those dangerous underworld gatherings where deals are made and knives are hidden in smiles. I wore a backless red dress that hugged every curve. Damien’s eyes had been on me the entire night, dark with want.

Then some rival’s son asked me to dance.

I said yes.

I made sure to laugh loudly, to let the man’s hand rest low on my back, to sway my hips a little too much. I wanted to punish Damien for making me feel this way, for making me want him so badly I couldn’t sleep at night.

It worked.

I saw the jealousy flash in his eyes. He downed his drink and disappeared onto the balcony.

That’s when I heard it.

A woman’s voice, sultry and familiar.

“Come on, Damien… we always have fun together. Let me take you to my suite tonight. I’ll let you fuck me however you like, rough, just the way you enjoy it.”

My blood boiled. I stormed toward the balcony just in time to hear him chuckle softly.

“Not tonight.”

But it was too late. The jealousy had already consumed me.

I turned and left the party without waiting for him. He followed me all the way home in silence.

The moment we stepped inside our penthouse, I exploded.

“Why the hell do you care if someone dances with me?” I shouted, throwing my heels across the room. “You don’t own me! This marriage is just business, right?”

Damien’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer. “You’re my wife, Alessia.”

“I’m your prisoner!” I yelled back. “You tease me every day, walk around half naked, jerk off moaning my name, but I’m the one who has to suffer? And then some whore offers to spread her legs for you and you—”

I couldn’t even finish.

In two strides he was on me.

Damien grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me like he was starving.

It wasn’t soft. It was years of pent-up hunger, jealousy, and raw need exploding between us. His tongue claimed my mouth as he pushed me against the wall, one hand sliding down to grip my ass possessively.

For the first time, I didn’t push him away.

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