Lukas's POV
I slept like a king last night. Smug. Satisfied. Knowing exactly what kind of chaos I'd left simmering inside her. The way she looked at me all day—half love, half hate, fully wrecked—I could still taste her frustration.
It was past midnight when I wandered downstairs for a glass of water, shirtless, my sweatpants riding low on my hips. The mansion was quiet, lights dimmed, shadows long.
And then… she walked in.
Adelina.My little doll. My ruin.
Wearing a satin-soft, blush pink nightdress that clung to her like a second skin—short enough to make any sane man drop to his knees. Her legs were bare, long and smooth, her skin glowing in the moonlight that spilled through the windows. That silk hugged her curves like it was jealous of my hands. And God—her nipples pressed softly against the thin fabric, teasing, peeking like they knew exactly what they were doing to me.
My grip on the glass tightened.I could feel myself getting hard instantly.
She didn't flinch under my gaze. No, she walked past me deliberately, her bare feet making no sound, her chin lifted like a challenge. My eyes dragged over every inch of her like she was a battlefield I'd already won—but tonight, she was wearing rebellion.
And it was turning me on more than I'd ever admit.
"You trying to get killed tonight, doll?" I rasped, voice dark, low, already roughened by the sight of her.She gave a soft smirk, one that made something primal stir in my chest. "Just getting a drink, Mr. Mafia."
Liar.She knew exactly what she was doing.
And if this was her revenge?
Let the game begin.
She turned without another word, hips swaying dangerously with every slow, deliberate step up the stairs.
She knew.The way she walked. The way she let her hair fall over one shoulder. The way that silk nightdress rose slightly with each step, revealing just enough to make my fists clench.She knew what she was doing. And she was winning.
I exhaled sharply, setting the glass down before I shattered it."Get a grip, Lukas," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.But how the hell was I supposed to get a grip when she looked like that?
I stood there for a few seconds longer, listening to the soft echo of her footsteps disappearing down the hallway. My jaw tightened, chest rising and falling unevenly.
She was playing with fire.And she damn well knew I'd burn her whole world down if she kept going.
But still…
I smirked to myself, tongue running along my bottom lip.Fine. She wanted to play?
Game on, doll.
I was already downstairs by the time the first rays of morning light spilled through the massive windows of the mansion. I'd taken a cold shower—twice, actually. Once when I woke up, and once again when I remembered her walking upstairs last night in that pink satin nightdress, her legs bare and soft and long and mine—but not yet.
I needed control.I needed to keep the monster on a leash.
And then—she appeared.
Barefoot. Hair undone. Chestnut waves flowing like chaos around her sleepy face. Her eyes were half-closed, still lost somewhere between dreams and morning haze, and her lips parted slightly as she walked toward me like I was gravity and she had no choice.
She was still wearing that nightdress.That same damn nightdress that barely covered her thighs and clung to her skin like it belonged there. Like it was made to test me.
I froze.
She walked to me in silence, slow and unbothered, as if her very presence wasn't driving me insane. She didn't say a word—just came into my arms like she'd done it a hundred times before.
Her body pressed against mine, soft and warm.She hugged me, resting her head right over my heart, where it had just started to beat faster—for her.
I stood there, arms instinctively locking around her waist. My jaw clenched tight. I wanted to pull her closer, throw her over the counter, claim every inch of her until her legs trembled and my name was the only word she could remember.
But I didn't.Because she just… held me.
And for a few seconds, there was peace.Silent. Dangerous. Addictive.
"Morning," she murmured, voice thick with sleep and sweetness.My fingers tightened slightly on her hips. Her skin felt like silk. She smelled like warm vanilla and sin, and all I could think about was tearing that little dress off and letting her know exactly what she does to me.
"You're playing with fire, doll," I whispered near her ear, voice low and rough.
She blinked up at me, too innocent. Too sleepy. Too goddamn beautiful.
And still—that nightdress.It slipped slightly off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone. A breath. That's all it would take for me to snap.
But not now.Not yet.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over the corner of hers. Just a whisper of a kiss. A threat. A promise.
"Keep this up," I said darkly, "and I swear I won't be the gentleman you think I am."
Her cheeks flushed, but she smirked like a sinner dressed as an angel.
I knew that smirk.She was about to start a war.
And I couldn't wait to burn with her.
Just when I thought the morning couldn't get any more torturous, she pulled back—barely an inch—and looked up at me with those wide, deceptively innocent eyes.
"I have a meeting tonight," she said casually, stretching a little as she moved to the fridge. "At the club. With the board members."
I stared at her like she'd just announced she was walking into a war zone wearing nothing but that satin dress.
The club.
At night.
With board members—most of whom were sleazy bastards in overpriced suits with wandering eyes and a taste for power they didn't deserve.
I gritted my teeth. "Are you serious right now?"
She turned around, one brow arched, clearly amused. "It's just business, Lukas."
I stepped closer. "Everything about you is business. First you're a politician's daughter, then you become a damn CEO before you even turned twenty-three. And now you wanna walk into a mafia-scented club at midnight like a damn fantasy in heels?"
Her lips twitched into a smirk. "Jealous?"
Jealous?
I was fuming. Boiling. Losing my mind.
"Doll, I don't do jealousy," I growled, backing her against the counter. "I do possession. I do protection. I do every eye that lands on you burns."
Her breath hitched, but she held her chin up—defiant, proud. That was my girl. Powerful. Unshaken.
But it didn't stop the storm churning inside me.
"You know what drives me insane?" I whispered, my lips brushing her ear. "The fact that I have to watch you walk into rooms full of wolves, dressed like sin, speaking like fire, and pretending none of them want to devour you."
I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "And you don't even know how close I am to killing for you."
She blinked, slightly breathless now. Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt.
"I'll be fine," she whispered.
"No," I snapped, voice low. "You'll be watched. You'll be guarded. Hell, I might walk in there myself and rip the throat out of the first bastard who looks at you wrong."
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were pink, and her breathing uneven. "You're being dramatic."
I smirked darkly. "No, baby. I'm being dead serious."
Then I leaned in and brushed her lips with mine—slow, teasing, threatening.
"You walk into that club tonight," I said, "but remember, when you come back… you're mine. All. Fucking. Mine."
And with that, I stepped back and left her breathless in the kitchen—just like she always left me.