Niccolò's POV:

After Isabella left me standing in the bathroom, I was a mess of nerves and pent-up emotions. I needed a release; she could be one, but she refused me. She refused the attraction brewing between us silently, but that didn't mean it was any less dangerous. If I knew anything about it, it was that once that attraction surfaced, we would either bask in its warmth or be burned alive by the ferocity of its flames. Either possibility was fine by me. But not by Isabella.

No, my sweet little Bellissima had to put her feet down to draw a line in the sand that she knew I couldn't—or, more likely, wouldn't—cross. Despite keeping her at arm's length for the past couple of weeks, she believed I was better than I let on. She believed I had morals, one of which was, in her eyes, consent. She wasn't wrong. In the past couple of weeks, she rarely was. However, she was wrong tonight.

I knew exactly where I wanted her. I wanted her next to me, with me. Every preposition that existed in the English dictionary described where I wanted her. I knew now that the attraction wasn't one-sided. I could still feel her hands on my back, arms, and body. Everywhere. If that wasn't a clear sign of my body's intentions with her, then I didn't know what was. But she wanted more. She deserved more. She needed a clear sign.

I slowly put on my clothes and exited the bathroom. The aching feeling from my shoulder had now moved lower towards my heart and, even lower, towards my groin. I was pushing my luck with her. I was pushing my limits. I knew that much, but that didn't mean I wouldn't push any further. Just not tonight. Tonight, we were both caught up in a lot. We both needed a break: she for the sake of her feelings and me for the sake of my body.

It was dark outside when I finally reached my side of the apartment and my room. The bed never felt emptier, and I could still feel her pull on me. It was nice to have a chance to be taken care of. To feel like someone was worried because of a bruise I had. Isabella surprised me. She surprised me by staying calm, caring, and collected, where a lot of others would lose it.

She never ceased to amaze me. When I thought I had her figured out, she turned the tables and showed me another part of herself that made me plan what it would be like to have her in my life for longer. She made me daydream, and I never did that.

I don't know when things changed between us. I always felt something towards her. But I kept it firmly hidden. After all, once the summer was over, she would go back to her old life, and I would still be here trying to save my life even though it wasn't worth saving. I sighed before turning to my uninjured side. It was going to be a long night.

The ache I was feeling from the place where the bullet grazed me didn't subside, and I doubted it would anytime soon. I didn't lie when I said that the doctor was on his honeymoon. I lied when I said he would look at it in the morning. He was off his duties for another week, and despite knowing he would fly back if I made one call, I wanted him to enjoy the first few weeks of his married life. I wasn't that cruel, and I was a little bit afraid of his wife, Monica.

With that in mind, I made a mental note to ask Lorenzo in the morning to clean my wound again. He was the one responsible for it, after all. Isabella would be none the wiser, and I would be spared Monica's wrath.

With my mind still hung up on her—on her fingertips, on her smell, and her eyes—I fell asleep. I couldn't remember what the dreams were made of, but I was fairly certain that her jade eyes were somewhere in them. In the morning, Lorenzo had already gone to summer school before I was even up. At least he did one thing right. He was keeping his end of the bargain.

So, I decided the bandage was going to make it another day. With more pain than I was accustomed to, I got ready and called my driver. Once I got to the office, I could see Isabella chatting with a colleague, and I was proud of her for clicking with everybody so quickly.

I prepared another list of names for her to make her little portfolios on. I gave it to her alongside her computer. Her skill in reading people right came in handy in the last two weeks. I had already dealt with three people that turned out to be double agents. But I had something bigger planned for the future. Maybe she could help me with drawing up new arrangements with the other dons.

Before I could walk away from her table after letting her know about the new list, she brushed her fingertips across my shoulder.

"You're bleeding? Did you see the doctor?"

The worry was still evident in her eyes, and I hated that I put it there. But there was nothing I could do. Sooner or later, she needed to see that this was not some child's play and that things could and would get messy. She just didn't have to be on the receiving end. I could be, and I would be. But not her, never her.

"Not yet, still on his honeymoon." I really couldn't lie to this girl, even though I wanted to. Sometimes, I wondered if I was going insane when the truth so easily slipped from my tongue while being around her. It unravelled me and shook me to my bones.

She didn't like my answer. She whispered, "Niccolò, you should call him. Be smart about it. It could get infected. It might have only grazed you, but still." Her voice fell quiet when Beatrice was looking over at us—at our exchange. Because Isabella talked so openly with me, put me in my place. Almost cursed me out right now, all because she was worried about me.

She looked again in Beatrice's direction. Their eyes met, and I amusingly looked at their exchange. When Beatrice wouldn't stop glaring at Isabella, she stood up from her chair and took my good hand before saying, "Come, let me check it out."

And like a puppy, I followed her. I always did. I didn't know why; I just did. She went straight to my office and motioned me to sit in my chair behind the desk.

"Where do you keep the first aid kit?"

I shrugged. I never used it, so how the hell should I know?

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Wait here. I'll ask around the office."

And before I could warn her to keep my shoulder a secret, she was already out of my sight. She returned in less than a minute.

"Samuel says it's in here in one of the cabinets."

She started bending over, and all I could see was her arched back. Why was this woman giving me so much temptation? Why was her ass the perfect shape, and why hadn't I already done something about it?

Before I could answer my questions, she was already sporting a small grin when she stepped toward me with the box. It was a repeat of the night before, with her between my legs and undoing my buttons. She worked quickly, skillfully, like she had done it a thousand times before.

"You're good at this," I commented.

She nodded absentmindedly as she put my used bandages away.

"I worked at a hospital as a volunteer last year. I didn't learn much, just the basics."

She cleaned the excess blood that had dried up during the night. I watched her. The way her breath was controlled, her hands barely touching my skin. I hated it. I hated the fact that she thought she needed to be in control while being around me.

Before I could think it through, my hands slid behind her thighs. Her breath hitched, and her hands stopped moving. She was hovering them above my skin.

"What are you doing?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"For support," I said.

"You're sitting. You don't need support," she calmly said. She wasn't angry with me. She was testing me. How much more could I lie to her? How much more could I push our limits before one of us gave in?

"Emotional support," I countered and laid my head against her shoulder. She was so small compared to me. Even seated, my face was at almost the same height as her collarbones.

Her hands started covering up my shoulder again while I was hiding in her embrace. I didn't know if I was hiding from the responsibility to the outside world or from my messed-up feelings toward her. But it didn't even matter anymore if it meant I could spend a second more with her.

"All finished," she whispered as she put her fingers through my hair. I loved it. I slowly moved my hands from behind her thighs to her stomach, where I started undoing the buttons of her little dress. I plastered little kisses alongside her hipbone, hearing her sharp intake of breath.

"Nico, what are you doing?"

"Showing you, I'm grateful." I continued pushing her back until her thighs collided with the corner of my desk.

"Nico, you shouldn't," she said, but her fingers tugging my hair said otherwise.

"Maybe," I chuckled against her skin, "but you want me to. I bet this whole building you're already wet for me." I felt her skin rise with goosebumps. Her pulse quickened, and I knew I was right.

I slipped my fingers underneath her thong and moved it down. And there it was, glistening. Her perfect pussy.

"Nico," her voice was almost pleading, her eyes trained on me. "You don't know what you want." She pushed me off. It only worked because I was injured and still sitting. And because not a bone in my body would go against her wishes. But still... Her eyes were silently following mine. We were locked.

"I'm showing you what I want," I whispered back. "I want you, and by the looks of it, so do you. You want me, Bellissima."

I stood up, taking a step forward so I was standing between her thighs and in front of her pulsing heat. Her breath hitched, and I smiled at her expression. She was, at the same time, afraid and thrilled by the chase. Oh, I was going to have so much fun with her. The corners of my mouth twitched. My other side was showing.

I was wondering how long it would take me to make her come. To show her I wanted her. To hear her beg me and moan my name. To have her shatter underneath me. Oh, I loved nothing more than a challenge. But I still needed her to give me a clear invitation. Because I knew that without one, I would only get one chance with her, I doubted that one taste would be enough.

I lowered my forehead to hers before whispering, "Bellissima, please stop killing me."

And then it all happened at once: her hands flew around my neck and drew me closer. Our mouths overlapped, our tongues creating a dance as we connected. I moaned against her lips as her legs wrapped around me.

"No, today is about you," I managed to say between gasps of pleasure that echoed from her smart little mouth.

I kissed her along her jawline and in the nook of her neck as her breathing quickened. Her gasps for air were my new favourite melody. My fingers danced along her spine and on her hips. She rocked closer and closer. Her hands trailed my biceps and intertwined in my hair.

"We shouldn't," she managed to say between her gasps when I gave her enough room to breathe. I wanted to silence those words, erase them from her memory. I shouldn't do a lot of things, but that hadn't stopped me before, and I was sure as hell it wouldn't stop me now. Not when it came to her.

I traced my fingers from her perked nipples down toward her clit. She rocked against them, so wet already. Patiently waiting for her release.

"Nico, you're injured. Leave it be." She tried swatting my palm away but without success. She was compliant in her haze, not putting much effort into defying me. Something I would never expect from her.

I chuckled against her puffed lips, "Bellissima, I'm left-handed."

And then I shoved my middle and index fingers into her. A small sob filled the office as she took them in. I watched her get used to the feeling. Her body adjusted to me. Her shoulders relaxed, and her mouth slightly opened in a sigh. Her eyelashes fluttered as I pumped once. Her eyes were hooded with lust. I kept a steady rhythm, her body responding to every move I made. She was grinding on my hand.

I couldn't stop wondering what she tasted like. I retraced my fingers, and she huffed as she looked down at where my hand had left her feeling empty.

"Why did you stop?" she almost accused me.

"Do you want to taste yourself?" I asked instead of answering her. I licked her wetness from my middle finger but left my index finger still covered in her. She tasted like water, salt, and citrus, mingled with the scent of her hair, her skin, and her sweat. She was tangy and just a little sweet. It was intoxicating in all the best ways.

She gulped, her lips halfway parted. I put my fingers against them, and she took a bite at my index finger. It was so erotic the way her teeth grazed my finger pad that it went straight to my already hard cock. She took both fingers into her mouth and sucked on them, her legs trying to interlace behind my back. She was tugging me closer.

She was getting impatient, and so was I. I let her suck on my fingers a little longer as I fell to my knees in front of her. My tongue darted out and flicked her bud once, and she shivered. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her toward me with my right arm. The pain was long forgotten.

Her hands quickly found balance on my head between her thighs. My tongue darted out again, but this time, it didn't stop. Her clit was already wet, just waiting for me to suck and worship it. And that was exactly what I did. I slipped a finger into her, and she buckled up.

"Two, please," she whispered, her eyes hooded with lust.

I almost came in my pants at the sound of her voice. What was it about her that always managed to surprise me? She voiced her desires so clearly, even in moments like this. It was sweet yet commanding, and it turned me on even more. I listened to her. Her face softened as I filled her up with the two fingers she wanted.

I started pumping and sucking her at the same time. Her body responded to every move I made. She moaned and sighed, urging me not to stop. She tried to give me directions in her haze, asking me to go faster or not to stop, but I wasn't planning to stop even if the world around us ended.

Her insides clenched around my fingers, and she released it all in one soft moan. Her body went from high-strung to relaxed in a second as she rocked her high against my tongue and fingers. I devoured her as she pulsed around me. Her head arched back, and her eyes shut from the intensity. I loved the sight of her.

I stood from my knees to see her face, serene and glowing. Her body had been so responsive to everything I did. I traced her lips with my fingers before taking her bottom lip between mine. I pressed soft kisses along her lip and waited patiently until she composed herself.

It didn't take long for her hands to find their way around the back of my neck. Her tongue followed, slipping into my mouth. I groaned, feeling satisfied that I had made her unravel. I had lowered her defences in a matter of minutes. But she didn't know that she had done the same to me.

In weeks, I had shown her parts of myself I didn't even know existed. My shadows lived in her eyes—parts of me that needed love. Despite the chaos and the belief drilled into me that emotions were for the weak, I still trusted her. Why? I didn't know.

I finally understood my father's need for my mother. The need for someone to remind me of something better. But I didn't know if she could accept all of me. I had shown her some shadows, but I had yet to show her the monster that kept them safe.

That monster trembled. I knew that if she saw it, her attraction would end. She would walk away, and the version of me she brought out would cease to exist. I wasn't ready to leave it behind.