Chapter 29

• The city lights blinked through the tall windows of the De Luca penthouse, painting fractured patterns across the darkened room. Outside, the war raged gunfire, whispers of betrayal, the distant echo of sirens but inside, it was a different kind of battle.
• Kieran paced, restless. The weight of the day’s destruction of the warehouse, the lives lost pressed heavy on his chest. But more than that was the tension between him and Isandro. The silent war waging beneath their usual cold stares and clipped words.
• Isandro leaned against the marble countertop, watching Kieran with those dark, unreadable eyes. The storm of the outside world seemed to pause for a breath.
• “You can’t carry this alone,” Isandro finally said, voice low, almost a growl.
• Kieran stopped mid-step, jaw tight. “I don’t want your pity.”
• Isandro stepped forward, closing the distance between them in slow, deliberate strides. “It’s not pity.”
• His hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kieran’s forehead rough fingers against soft skin. The touch was electric, charged, and suddenly Kieran was unsteady.
• “Then what is it?”
• “Need,” Isandro whispered.
• The word hung in the air, raw and dangerous.
• Kieran’s breath hitched. For years, they had danced this dance enemies in the daylight, fire in the shadows. But tonight, everything shifted.
• Isandro’s hands framed Kieran’s face, thumb tracing the line of his cheek, pulling him closer.
• The first kiss was slow, searching a question asked and answered all at once. Lips met, tentative then urgent, hunger mingling with something deeper. Desperation.
• Kieran’s arms wrapped around Isandro’s neck, pulling him tighter, hands digging into shoulders, needing, wanting, finally surrendering.
• Their bodies pressed together, heat rising as the world outside disappeared. The war, the pain, the betrayals none of it mattered here.
• Isandro’s hands roamed beneath Kieran’s shirt, skin warming under every touch. Kieran shivered, heart pounding, every nerve alive.
• When their mouths parted, breaths mingling, Isandro’s voice was rough. “I want you.”
• Kieran swallowed hard. “Then take me.”
• Clothes fell away, layer by layer, leaving bare skin exposed to the cool night air and the fire blazing between them. Fingers traced scars, mapped muscles, memorized curves.
• Isandro’s lips found every sensitive spot neck, collarbone, chest worshipping and claiming all at once.
• Kieran arched into him, every touch a promise, every kiss a confession.
• They moved together in a rhythm old as time but new every time a violent, tender dance where power shifted and walls crumbled.
• Isandro’s voice was a low growl against Kieran’s ear. “You’re mine.”
• Kieran’s answer was a whispered plea, “Always.”
• Hours slipped away, measured in gasps, shivers, and stolen murmurs. Two enemies forged into something unbreakable fierce, flawed, and fiercely theirs.
• When dawn finally crept through the windows, it found them tangled in sheets, the war still waiting outside, but here in this fragile moment there was only each other
• Kieran felt the heat of Isandro’s hands as they trailed from his shoulders down his back, fingers tracing the sharp planes beneath his shirt, sending sparks beneath his skin. Every touch was deliberate, every breath shared between them heavy with things unspoken. The tension that had always crackled between them, the grudges, the rivalry it all melted away in this quiet surrender.
• Isandro’s mouth found the hollow at the base of Kieran’s throat, leaving a trail of fire that made his knees weak. Kieran tilted his head back, exposing more skin, more vulnerability, and something raw and fierce flickered in Isandro’s eyes. It was no longer just desire it was need, a claiming, a silent vow.
• The city outside might be burning, but in this room, the only heat was the way their bodies fit together, the way they explored one another with the urgency of men who’d learned too late what they were missing.
• Kieran’s fingers tangled in Isandro’s hair, pulling him closer as their hips pressed flush, every inch a declaration. There was no room here for old wounds or grudges only the fierce, unyielding force of this moment.
• Isandro’s eyes darkened with intent as he captured Kieran’s wrist, his grip firm but measured a silent command. “Not so fast,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
• Kieran’s breath hitched, heart pounding with a mix of defiance and desire. “You’re in charge?” he asked, lips twitching with a challenge.
• Isandro’s smile was a razor’s edge. “Tonight, you’re mine. You’ll listen. You’ll obey. And you’ll beg.”
• Kieran swallowed, heat pooling low as Isandro’s fingers tightened, guiding him gently but unyieldingly toward the plush leather chair by the window. The city’s glow framed them like a stage, and Isandro was the undisputed king.
• “You’ll keep your eyes on me,” Isandro said, his voice like a growl that made Kieran’s pulse race. “No distractions.”
• Kieran sank into the chair, pulse racing, body already aching to submit, to lose control in Isandro’s hands.
• Isandro circled him, slow and deliberate, fingertips trailing along the curve of Kieran’s jaw, down his throat, pausing just above his chest. “Good,” he breathed. “You’re learning.”
• The next moments were a dance of power and surrender Isandro’s hands firm, commanding; Kieran’s body trembling with the delicious tension of yielding, of letting go.
• Every touch, every whispered order, stripped away the walls Kieran had built the armor forged from years of rivalry and pain. Here, in Isandro’s grasp, he was vulnerable and alive.
• Isandro’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Say it.”
• Kieran’s lips parted, breath shallow. “I’m yours.”
• The words felt like a surrender and a victory all at once.
• Isandro’s eyes never left Kieran’s as he leaned in, voice thick with promise and command. “Good boy.” His hand slid down from Kieran’s jaw to the pulse pounding at his throat, fingers curling possessively.
• Kieran’s chest rose and fell rapidly, every nerve alighted, craving more even as his body trembled beneath the weight of Isandro’s control. The usual fire of defiance flickered but was quickly smothered by the heavy cloak of submission sweet and intoxicating.
• Isandro’s fingers danced lower, tracing the outline of Kieran’s ribs before hooking beneath the waistband of his pants. “You belong to me tonight. No questions. No hesitation.”
• Kieran swallowed, the words igniting a storm inside him, he never expected to feel for Isandro not just desire, but a surrender that carved deep into his soul.
• “Say it again,” Isandro ordered, voice husky and demanding.
• “I’m yours,” Kieran whispered, voice barely audible.
• Isandro’s grin was sharp, predatory. “Good. You’ll learn fast.”
• With a deliberate motion, Isandro pushed Kieran back further into the chair, hands strong and sure as he explored every inch of Kieran’s body, claiming, marking, and unraveling.
• Kieran’s world narrowed to the feel of Isandro’s touch, the sound of his voice, the intoxicating dance of power and surrender that made everything else fall away.
• Isandro’s hands didn’t waver as he guided Kieran through every moment a firm yet tender command that stripped away every pretense, every wall. Kieran’s breath hitched as the ache of wanting melted into the ache of surrender, raw and true.
• When Isandro finally pulled back, leaving Kieran trembling in the chair, the air between them was thick with something deeper than desire. It was trust ...hard… won, fragile, but real.
• Isandro settled beside him, fingers tracing gentle patterns along Kieran’s skin, grounding him. “You did well,” he murmured, voice low and warm.
• Kieran leaned into the touch, heart pounding, the rush of the night folding into a quiet promise. Maybe this wasn’t just about power or revenge anymore. Maybe it was about something neither of them had dared to hope for a chance to rewrite their story.
• As the city lights flickered through the window, Kieran let go of the last of his doubts. Tonight, he was hers. And that was enough.