Claimed by My Mafia Stepson

CHAPTER 10

—Madeline—

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, my hands flying to his chest.

His hands slipped from his pockets with lightning speed, catching me by the upper arms to steady me.

I looked up, and for a second, the hallway disappeared. There was only his cologne and the dark, fathomless depth of his eyes.

I felt stripped bare.

“Are you okay, Little Bird?”

My breath caught.

I took a back step away from him. Then another. “Stop calling me that. I'm Mrs. Morvanti now.”

He didn't let go. If anything, his fingers tightened around me. A knowing smile curved his mouth. He leaned closer.

“So… you do remember me.”

“No,” I blurted breathlessly. “I don't remember you.”

He tilted his head—slowly— his eyes tracing the line of my throat.

“Are you sure? Because your pulse is telling me a different story.”

He was right.

My heart was thudding against my ribs so hard I was certain he could feel it through the soles of his shoes.

I was a 911 operator, trained to be the calm in the center of someone else’s storm. But Dominic wasn't a storm. He was the wreckage left behind.

I tried to pull back.

He moved with me... closing the space between us. Until the toes of my heels brushed his polished leather shoes.

The vertigo returned, that electric tilt of the world that made me want to grab onto him and push him away all at once.

I glanced down the hallway, grateful to find it empty.

“I–I have no idea what you're talking about,” I snapped.

“I find it interesting,” he drawled, “how you accused me of lying last night when you’re clearly an expert yourself.”

“I didn’t tell any lies. I’m happy in my marriage.” The words tasted like ash.

Shame twisted my belly.

“If your marriage was so perfect, Little Bird," he said, tone firm. “Tell me, why were you at the club?”

His fingers grazed my arm… teasing… dangerous, leaving a trail that sparked a familiar fire inside me.

“Why did you let a stranger touch you?”

Air caught in my throat.

“Whatever happened between us at the hotel,” I said, my voice shaky, “—was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

“I like mistakes,” he repeated, his breath ghosting over my ear. “The way you lost control under my touch.”

I yanked my hands free from his grip, raised an index finger and tried to use a matter-of-fact tone.

Failed anyway.

“Stay away from me.”

“We had a deal.”

“To hell with your deal.”

He leaned past my finger, lips hovering over mine. My finger crumbled.

I closed my eyes, already bracing for the impact of a kiss I should hate—but didn’t trust myself to refuse.

“Do you know an interesting thing about birds?” His breath brushed my face. “Set them free. If it's yours, it will always find its way back.”

He stopped.

The heat was gone.

I reopened my eyes to find him standing in the shadows again, looking every bit the predator who had already won.

“You’re forgetting the rest of the proverb, Dominic,” I said, my voice sounding stronger. “If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with. And I was never yours. I was bought.”

He took a back step.

Then another.

“You’re already burning. I just haven’t decided how much gasoline to pour yet.”

Heat coiled low in my stomach.

And I hated that he was right.

I didn't wait.

I turned and fled up the stairs until my bedroom door slammed behind me.

*. *. *. *. *. *. *

—Dominic—

How do I rescue a woman that doesn't want to be saved? How do I make her understand her worth when she wouldn't stop lying to herself?

I buried my hands in my pocket and watched her leave.

My jaw tightened.

Footsteps inched behind me.

I didn't need to glance over my shoulder to know who it was— his scent had already hit me.

“Boss,” Marco called.

He stopped three steps back.

I came up with a cigar and lit it.

“They’re hiding something.” I took a drag and puffed. “And I don’t like being blind.”

“A forced marriage?”

“Something like that.” I looked at my right-hand man now. “Hire a private investigator. I need answers soon.”

“Yes, Boss,” Marco shifted slightly. “They're here. Your father has gone out to meet them.”

I glanced at the space where she had been standing, her scent still clouding the air. My palm was still warm from the heat of her arms.

“Hire the best.” I took a long drag. “You can’t catch a bird if you don’t know where it nests,” I said, and headed out.

* *. *. *. *. *. *

—Madeline—

I rushed to the bathroom and washed my face, breath ragged.

What had I gotten myself into?

My gaze flicked to the mirror.

I looked like a woman who had been chased. Or worse—a woman who had been caught and was secretly devastated.

“Get it together,” I muttered. Last night was a mistake, but why did my body crave the one man I could never have?

For God's sake, he was my stepson.

I walked back to the room. I sank into the chair at the desk and tried to focus on a book; something academic— but my mind kept jumping to the sinful memory of him and the desire I shouldn't want.

My mind was too tangled to hold onto a single sentence.

I closed my eyes and was back in the hallway— the heat of his body, his face inches from mine as he teased a kiss I had been a second away from begging for.

A knock sounded on the door.

I snapped out of it and lowered the book. I adjusted myself at the vanity, then turned to the door.

The knock came again.

“Come in,” I said, half expecting a servant.

The door opened slowly, and Elisa walked in, heels clicking on the marble like she owned the place. A faint, almost pleasant smile curved her lips.

“Hello, Madeline.”