An Heir Before Dusk

Chapter 1: The Mafia Prince’s Demand The night air was thick with tension, the towering penthouse cast in the soft glow of city lights. Emilia Devereux stood near the massive floor-to-ceiling window, her hands clenched into fists. She could feel him behind her—his presence was a force of nature, dark and inescapable. She hated him. Hated how he made her feel. Hated that no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, his voice sent shivers down her spine. “You disobeyed me,” Damian Moretti’s voice was low, edged with something dangerous. He was always composed, always in control. But tonight, there was something else lurking beneath his words. Something primal. Emilia turned to face him, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I work for you, not under you,” she shot back, her defiance flickering like a flame in the dark. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. “We’ll see about that.” He stepped closer, the sheer size of him overwhelming. Dressed in a crisp black suit, the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of toned muscle, he was the embodiment of power. His dark eyes burned into hers, stripping her bare without even touching her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She had spent months resisting him, telling herself he was nothing more than a tyrant—a man who got off on control. But the problem was, deep down, a traitorous part of her wanted to be controlled by him. “I called you here because I need something from you,” Damian murmured, reaching out and tracing his fingers along her jaw. The touch was featherlight, teasing, as if he was daring her to pull away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. “I don’t care what you need,” she hissed, though her voice lacked the conviction she wanted. Damian chuckled, a dark sound that sent heat pooling low in her belly. “You should.” He took another step forward, leaving barely any space between them. “Because what I need… is you.” Her breath hitched. “Excuse me?” “I want an heir, Emilia. And you’re going to give me one.” The words were like a slap, but instead of outrage, her body betrayed her with an unexpected thrill of anticipation. She should have slapped him. Should have cursed him. Instead, she stood there, her body betraying her as heat spread through her veins like wildfire. “You’re insane,” she whispered. Damian’s fingers trailed down her throat, lingering at the pulse point. “No. I’m a man who always gets what he wants.” His thumb brushed over her lips, testing, teasing. “And right now, what I want… is you.” She hated the way her knees felt weak. Hated that her core clenched with the promise behind his words. “You think you can just… take me?” she challenged, tilting her chin up defiantly. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening just slightly—a warning. “You’ll beg me to.” Before she could respond, his mouth crashed onto hers, stealing every thought from her mind. The kiss was brutal, raw, filled with a hunger that sent molten need straight between her thighs. His tongue demanded entrance, and when she parted her lips, he devoured her. She gasped against his mouth as he pressed her against the cool glass, his hands roaming, claiming, possessing. One hand gripped her thigh, hiking her dress up as his fingers skimmed the lace of her panties. “You’re already wet for me,” he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. She wanted to deny it, wanted to push him away—but when his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric and brushed over her slick heat, she moaned, her body betraying her once more. “Say it,” he commanded, his lips tracing down her neck, his fingers teasing her entrance. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to give in. A sharp smack landed on her ass, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. She gasped, her nails digging into his arms. “Say it,” he repeated, this time sliding two fingers inside her, curling just right. “Damian,” she whimpered, her body arching into his touch. “Say you want me.” His fingers pumped inside her, relentless, coaxing her toward the edge. “I—I hate you,” she gasped, but the words were empty, dissolving into a moan as he pressed his thumb to her c**t. His laugh was pure sin. “Then hate me while I make you come.” His pace quickened, his mouth finding hers once more, swallowing every sound she made as she shattered against him, her body trembling in release. He pulled back, his fingers still inside her, his eyes locked onto hers. “This is only the beginning, Emilia.” His voice was low, dangerous. “By the time I’m done, you won’t just carry my heir—you’ll be mine.” And the worst part? She already was.