Chapter 5

Helena's POV

I woke up alone.

The sheets were twisted around my legs and my body ached in places that reminded me exactly what happened last night. Vincent's side of the bed was cold, which meant he'd been gone for a while, probably hours.

There was a note on the nightstand next to a cup of coffee that was still steaming hot. I picked up the paper and recognized Vincent's sharp handwriting right away.

Breakfast downstairs. Tell the kitchen whatever you want. -V

I held the note against my chest for a second before catching myself and dropping it like it burned. Don't be stupid, Helena. This isn't some romance novel. This is just... what the hell is this anyway?

I grabbed the coffee and took a sip. A latte, made exactly how I liked it.

I pulled on one of Vincent's shirts from the chair and headed downstairs. My legs felt wobbly and I could feel the soreness between my thighs with every step, this constant reminder of what we'd done together.

Vincent was at the dining table with a newspaper when I walked in. He looked up and something changed in his face when he saw me wearing his shirt. His expression softened in a way I'd never seen before and it did something to my chest that I really didn't want to think about.

He actually smiled at me.

My heart stuttered and I immediately told it to shut up.

"Morning," I said, dropping into the chair across from him.

"Sleep well?" The amusement in his voice made me want to throw my coffee at him.

"You were there for most of it, so you tell me."

He put down the newspaper and leaned back, watching me with those blue-gray eyes that always saw way too much. "The coffee's how you like it. French toast is on the way."

"How'd you know I like French toast?"

"I pay attention, especially to things that matter to me."

Don't read into that. Do not read into that.

"Things that matter? Or things you own?"

Vincent's smile turned sharper. "With you, I'm starting to think those might be the same thing."

The next two weeks turned into this weird routine of business meetings and fancy dinners and Vincent's hands all over me whenever we were alone.

We had sex almost every night, sometimes multiple times. In his bed, in mine, sometimes we didn't even make it that far before we were tearing each other's clothes off.

I figured out what he liked. The way he'd groan when I bit his lip hard enough to sting. How his control would crack when I said his name a certain way. The death grip his fingers would get on my hips when he was about to come.

He learned me too. Learned exactly where to touch me to make me lose my mind. Learned that I wanted him to talk during sex, to tell me exactly what he was doing to me and how it made him feel. Learned when I needed it rough and fast versus slow and deep.

And I started pushing buttons I probably should've left alone.

Day eleven. Early morning.

I was in the bathtub trying to soak away the soreness in my muscles and actually relax for five minutes. The water was perfect and I'd almost managed to clear my head when the bathroom door opened.

Vincent walked in wearing his full suit from whatever meeting he'd been in, tie loose and sleeves rolled up. He looked at me in that tub with an expression that made everything inside me clench.

"Busy?" he asked.

"Very." I didn't bother trying to cover up since he'd already seen everything anyway. "Can't you see I'm extremely occupied here?"

He started unbuttoning his shirt without breaking eye contact. "Move forward."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I'll move you myself." He stripped off everything and stepped into the tub behind me. Water splashed over the edges and all over the floor but he didn't seem to care. "Move forward, Helena."

I did what he said. His legs came around mine and he pulled me back against his chest. I could feel him already getting hard against my lower back.

"You're flooding my bathroom," I pointed out, but my voice came out all breathy and weak.

"Your bathroom?" His hands slid up and cupped my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they got hard and sensitive. "Everything in this house belongs to me, including you."

I should've argued with that. Should've told him I wasn't some object he owned. But his fingers were doing things that short-circuited my brain and when he lifted me up to position me over him, I didn't fight it at all.

He lowered me down slowly and I felt every single inch of him pushing inside me. The water made everything slippery and easy and when he was all the way in I let my head drop back against his shoulder.

"There you go," Vincent said against my neck. "Take all of me."

He moved me on him with his hands controlling my hips, keeping the pace torturously slow no matter how much I tried to speed things up. He held me exactly where he wanted me.

"Vincent, please—"

"Look." He turned my face toward the mirror over the sink and I saw both of us reflected there. My face flushed and mouth open, his hands dark against my skin, water rippling everywhere. "Look at yourself. Look how gorgeous you are when you're desperate for me."

I watched our reflection as he thrust up harder. Watched my own face change as this pressure built low in my belly and spread through my whole body in waves I couldn't control.

"Tell me what you want," Vincent said.

"You. I want you." It came out as this needy moan and I was past caring how desperate I sounded. "Please, Vincent, I need—"

He shifted the angle and hit this spot inside me that made everything go white. I came so hard I couldn't breathe, my whole body clenching around him while he kept moving until he came too with my name coming out rough and broken.

We stayed frozen like that for a while, both of us breathing hard, the water going cool around us.

"You're dangerous," Vincent said quietly into my hair.

"Right back at you."

Day thirteen. Evening.

We were driving back from another business dinne.

I was done playing nice for the night. Done being proper and controlled and good.

The privacy screen was already up between us and the driver. I climbed onto Vincent's lap before he could say anything.

"Helena—"

"Shut up." I kissed him hard while my hands went for his belt. "I don't want to hear about business or deals or any of that right now. I just want you."

His pupils dilated and something dangerous flashed across his face. "In the car?"

"What, you scared?" I ground down against him and felt him getting hard underneath me.

Vincent laughed, this low rough sound that went straight through me. "I'm never scared of you."

He yanked my dress up and ripped my underwear to the side. The sound of fabric tearing should probably have bothered me but all I felt was this rush of heat.

He freed himself and lifted me up, lining us up. We both knew the driver could probably hear every single thing through that partition but I was way past giving a shit.

Vincent pulled me down onto him in one hard thrust and I bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming. He was so deep from this angle, filling me completely, and I felt him everywhere inside me.

"Ride me," he ordered against my ear. "Show me how bad you want it."

I moved on him, chasing this building heat between us. His hands gripped my hips hard enough that I knew I'd have bruises tomorrow and I loved it, loved having these physical marks from him on my body.

"That's my girl," Vincent said, his voice wrecked. "Taking me so well. You love this, don't you? Getting fucked in the back of my car where anyone could hear you."

"Yes." I was way beyond shame at this point. "Yes, I love it, I love—"

I came apart on him with his hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the sounds. He followed right after, pulling me down hard while he came inside me.

We were both breathing. My dress was completely ruined and my hair was a disaster and I could still feel him pulsing inside me.

"You're going to be the death of me," Vincent said.

"Then we'll die together," I whispered back.

By day fourteen, something between us had changed into this thing I couldn't name and really didn't want to look at too closely.

Vincent was in a meeting with his brothers and I was trying not to think about the fact that I was falling for him. For the man who literally bought me like I was property. For this criminal who should absolutely terrify me instead of making me feel things I had no business feeling.

And I have no idea how to stop it.

The meeting room door opened and I heard Luca's voice drift out into the hallway where I was walking past.

"You've been in a really good mood lately, fratello. Should I be worried about that?"

"Mind your own business," Vincent shot back, but there wasn't any real anger in it.

Then Dante's voice cut through, blunt like always. "I want her too."