.....
Camila's hands were pinned above her head, her back arching off the mattress as Lucien drove into her with primal need.
"Lucien—God—" she gasped, eyes fluttering shut.
"Eyes on me," he growled, voice rough, sharp with lust.
He didn't slow. Couldn't. She had him too tightly wrapped around her body, her heat, her breath, her soul. Her nails raked down his back as he plunged deeper, harder—until she was gasping his name like it was the only word she knew.
He leaned down, lips brushing her ear. "You're so… fucking tight."
She whimpered, legs locking around him instinctively as he pushed to the hilt. His mouth trailed hot down her neck, claiming her, branding her.
He didn't stop.
Not until she trembled beneath him, undone—and then he finally released.
In her.
---
Later, she lay beside him, flushed and still catching her breath. Silence stretched between them until she turned to face him.
"I want to go see my sister," she murmured.
He didn't even blink.
"I'll take you. But I go with you."
---
The car pulled up to a small, worn-down home nestled in the outskirts of the city. Camila stepped out, suddenly unsure.
Lucien followed, leaning against the car door like a man who owned the entire block—and maybe he did.
She opened the door.
"Isabella?" she called.
"Camila!" A blur of brown hair came flying down the hallway and wrapped around her in a crushing hug. Rosa followed close behind, stunned.
"You're okay," Rosa breathed, pulling her into a second hug.
Camila nodded, overwhelmed.
Then Isabella pulled back, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the man by the doorway.
"Wait a damn minute... Is that Lucien fucking Valentini?!"
Lucien gave a slow smirk.
Camila froze. "Uhh... let's just say... he's kind of my boyfriend."
"Bullshit," Isabella said flatly.
Camila shrugged. "Debt collectors took me, tried to sell me. He saved me. And, well, things happened."
"Camila!" Isabella gasped. "So while Rosa and I were here worried sick, you were out screwing Lucien fucking Valentini? And didn't even send a message?"
"I know, I—"
"This is amazing!" Isabella squealed, cutting her off. "Kiki and Khole won't believe this!"
Camila stared. "You're not mad?"
"Mad? Hell no. I'm impressed. Lucien Valentini in our house? That's next level."
Camila resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Isabella was thrilled. She was seventeen and ran on chaos and gossip.
"Bella, you can't tell anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because it could put us all in danger."
"Ugh, fine," Isabella muttered. "I won't."
But then she crossed her arms and turned to Lucien with narrowed eyes.
"But I do have a question for Mr. Valentini over here."
Camila turned sharply. "Bella—don't—"
Too late.
Isabella tilted her head, studying him.
"Be honest," she said bluntly. "What do you even see in my sister? I mean, there's nothing special in her. Her hair's always a mess, she's rude as hell... So what the actual fuck caught your interest?"
The room fell silent.
Camila's breath caught.
She looked at Lucien—tense, unsure, scared of what he'd say next.
He looked at her.
And then—he smiled.
---
"Well," Lucien began, leaning back in the chair with a lazy sort of arrogance, "besides her messy hair, bad attitude, foul mouth…"
"Yup," Isabella cut in, nodding dramatically. "I know. I get you. So fucked up."
Camila shot her a glare, jaw tightening as Lucien continued, clearly enjoying himself.
"She's rude, stubborn, bites more than she can chew—"
"I know, right?" Isabella chimed again, gasping with exaggerated disbelief.
Lucien ignored her. His eyes slid back to Camila, sharp and burning.
"—but for some twisted reason…" He paused, letting the silence pull taut between them. "I find her quite... interesting."
Camila's heart skipped. He didn't have to smirk, but of course, he did—like he knew just how much power he held when he looked at her like that.
Isabella rolled her eyes dramatically. "You two are disgusting."
---
As they stood by the door, Camila turned to Rosa, her voice softer now.
"Thank you. For looking after her."
Rosa smiled faintly. "It's the least I could do. After all… it was my dad who got you into this mess."
Camila's eyes dimmed with the memory, but she nodded.
"Are you going to be okay?" Rosa asked, eyes flicking toward Lucien, wary.
"I will." Camila forced a smile. "And even if I'm not—I'll find a way out."
Rosa nodded, stepped forward, and wrapped her in a hug.
"You just have to hold on a bit longer," Camila whispered. "I'll be back soon."
"Goodbye," Rosa said as she pulled away.
"Goodbye, Rosa."
---
The car door shut with a soft thud behind Camila. Before she could exhale, Lucien's voice cut through the quiet.
"Your sister's… interesting."
"Yeah," Camila muttered, fastening her seatbelt. "Get used to it."
He chuckled under his breath, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. But then—his tone changed.
"I wonder…" he murmured. "What she's going to do to you when she finds out you lied to her."
Camila's head snapped to him.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You wouldn't dare," she said lowly.
Lucien met her gaze with a smirk that gave nothing away—but promised everything.
The moment they returned to the mansion, the shift in atmosphere was undeniable.
Lucien stepped through the marble doorway, only to be greeted by the scent of cigar smoke and tension. One of his men approached immediately, head low.
"Two of your ships, sir. Sank off the eastern port."
Lucien's jaw tensed.
"What else?"
The man hesitated. "A shipment went missing from the warehouse last night. Someone stole from you."
Silence stretched as something dark flickered in Lucien's eyes.
He'd been so wrapped up in her—Camilia. The training. The sex. The fucking smile she'd given him the day he praised her. The little noises she made when she came undone beneath him. The things she whispered when she thought he wasn't listening.
He'd forgotten.
Forgotten who the fuck he was.
Forgotten that he wasn't just some man addicted to a girl's body.
He was Lucien fucking Valentini.
A mafia heir with blood on his hands and fire at his heels.
And someone had dared to steal from him.
---
"You're slipping," Angelo muttered as he stepped into the study without knocking, always the only one who could.
Lucien didn't look at him, his gaze fixed on the glowing screens before him—shipping manifests, missing cargo reports, encrypted messages from rival families.
"She's becoming more than a distraction," Angelo continued. "She's becoming an obsession. And if you don't get your shit together, Lucien… she's going to be your fucking doom."
Lucien didn't flinch.
Instead, he reached for his glass of scotch and downed it in one long, silent pull before speaking.
"What the fuck do you know about obsession?" His voice was low. Cold.
Angelo stared at him, unmoved. "Enough to recognize the look in your eyes. You're not just fucking her, Lucien."
A pause. A breath.
"You're fucking falling for her."
Lucien's jaw clenched.
Angelo took a step closer, voice hard. "And it never ends well. Not for men like us. Not in this life."
Lucien didn't reply. There was nothing to say.
Because for the first time, Angelo was right.
---
"She's in your blood now," Angelo said, turning toward the door. "You either cut her out before she destroys you… or be ready to burn everything you've built to keep her."
He paused, hand on the knob.
"Oh—and your father's requested a meeting. Don't be late."
Then he was gone.
---
Lucien sat back in his chair, hands folded under his chin.
Something was happening to him.
He didn't just want to fuck her anymore. He wanted to own her. To carve his name into her soul. To make sure no one else ever touched what was his.
It wasn't love.
Lucien didn't do love.
No. This was something far more dangerous.