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CHAPTER 8
ALEXANDER
I cursed under my breath and stormed out of the mansion, leaving behind the blinding lights and slipping into the cool darkness. The wind hit me like a slap, slicing through my coat and creeping up my back, but I didn’t stop. I walked faster, hoping to outpace the storm in my mind. It didn’t matter.
No matter how fast I moved or how hard I tried to focus, I couldn’t get the damn girl out of my head.
Alina Santini
I had stormed into that place with a singular purpose: to make Arthur Santini regret ever crossing me. My anger and determination had fueled my every step, driving me forward like a force of nature.
But then my gaze landed on her, and the world around me ceased to exist.
Alina Santini stood there, a breathtaking combination of defiance and beauty, her presence impossible to ignore.
I had seen her before—once, briefly—but now, it felt as though I was truly seeing her for the first time.
The memory of our last encounter flickered in my mind, and I remembered the way my pulse had stuttered when her eyes locked with mine. At the time, I’d brushed it off as nothing—a fleeting moment of intrigue, easily forgotten. But now, as I took her in, I knew better. It wasn’t curiosity. It was something deeper, something that tugged at me in a way I couldn’t explain.
I felt the weight of my mission to confront Arthur Santini crumbling beneath my feet.
My mission had been clear: confront Arthur Santini and unleash the full weight of my wrath upon him. But as my eyes fell on his daughter, everything shifted. The fire of vengeance burning in my chest dimmed, replaced by something far more primal and consuming—a need I couldn’t quite explain.
Revenge took a back seat, eclipsed by the desire to be near Alina. To have her alone, away from prying eyes and meddling interference. I wanted to close the distance, to drink in the delicate scent of her skin and feel the electric charge of her presence.
Those defiant eyes, the way her voice trembled but never broke, the fire in her that burned even when she was cornered.
What was it about her? She wasn’t the first pretty girl I’d come across, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. But there was something... something I couldn’t put my finger on.
And that made her dangerous.
The moment someone gets under your skin, they become a liability. A distraction. And in my world, distractions could get you killed.
But that fucking dress.
A golden slip of fabric clung to her curves like it had been poured over her skin. Every shimmer of light traced the delicate lines of her figure—the graceful arc of her back, the soft curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, revealing the elegant shape of her collarbones and the gentle rise of her breasts, leaving nothing and everything to the imagination.
Her hair cascaded in soft, golden waves, brushing just past her shoulders, tumbling down her back, gleaming with scarlet undertones when the light kissed it.
But none of that should’ve mattered.
Lust was lust—a need that could be satisfied by any of the women who flocked to our world like perfectly manicured moths to a flame.
No, what mattered were her eyes.
Big, liquid pools of soothing blue, as endless and calm as the ocean.
So innocent.
And that—that was dangerous.
Yet I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t fully understand.
Just the memory of her had my body reacting in ways I couldn’t control. She was so...pure.
The way she stood her ground, even though I could see the tremble in her lips and feel the hesitation in her voice, fascinated me.
There was defiance in her, a spark of courage she didn’t seem to realize she possessed. It only made her more alluring—so good, so untainted in a world full of corruption.
She was a breath of fresh air, a good-hearted and innocent girl who seemed to radiate an aura of purity. It had been an eternity since I'd encountered someone like her, and it sparked a primal desire within me.
I couldn't help but imagine the golden dress she wore pooled around her ankles, her panties discarded alongside it, exposing the milky-white thighs and the delicate pink lips of her pussy.
The image was tantalizing, and I felt an overwhelming urge to press her against the wall, to pin her in place and bury my cock deep within her. I wanted to sink into her innocence, to feel her softness envelop me as I fucked the good right out of her.
Her eyes would be screwed shut, her face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as she whispered my name over and over.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I crossed the street with deliberate strides, my jaw tight, and slid into the car where Nico was waiting.
He glanced at me, one brow arched, his tone laced with mockery.
"That took more than ten minutes. What happened? Did you stay for dessert?"
He smirked, not waiting for an answer before adding,
"Or maybe some pretty little thing caught your eye, and you had to make a quick detour to the bathroom?"
I shot him a glare, my voice cold.
"Drive."
Nico chuckled, shifting into gear.
"Touchy, aren’t we? But what’s this? No blood on your hands this time…"
“I delivered a message instead,” I replied, my tone cold and unreadable.
Nico’s hands paused on the wheel, and a smirk tugged at his lips as he slowly turned to face me, his eyes glinting with mockery.
“Alexander Dimitri, personally delivering a message? What’s next? Flowers and a handwritten note? Or did your gun finally lose its edge? Usually, you shoot first and ask questions later. When did you become the messenger boy?”
He let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his seat.
“Tell me, boss—did the message get delivered, or should I be expecting a cleanup call later?”
My jaw tightened, and I fought the urge to snap at him.
Nico noticed everything—every flicker of hesitation, every crack in the façade. It’s what made him such a lethal weapon, but right now, his sharp perception was grating.
It wasn’t just irritating; it forced me to confront the question I didn’t want to ask myself:
Why had I chosen to deliver the message to her instead of unleashing my fury on Arthur?
That wasn’t like me.
I didn’t need to justify my actions to Nico, but my thoughts were relentless.
Maybe it was her, or maybe it was the presence of Robert Solas. I had no interest in crossing paths with that bastard tonight—not yet. His time would come, and when it did, I’d make sure he paid in full.
For now, I focused on the road ahead and not on Nico’s lingering stare.
"Drive," I said, my tone final, cutting off any further interrogation.
Nico reluctantly started the engine, the low hum filling the car as I stared out the window at the mansion across the street.
Alina Santini. Even her name sounded too soft.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I shook off the thought and turned my gaze forward, pushing the confusion deep into the recesses of my mind. There was no room for distractions. No room for vulnerability. And there certainly wasn't a place for anything as naive as "cute" or "adorable" in my world.
She was just a tool, a stepping stone. That’s all. A means to an end!