You didn’t mean to become the worst night of his life. You didn’t even panic when it happened. You just stood there, cool and contained, while the groom bled out at your feet like a badly timed inconvenience. That’s the part Niccolò Amorelli can’t stop thinking about — not the body, not the mess, but the way you handled it.

You were never supposed to be interesting to him. Four years ago, you were polite, distant, well-bred enough to fade into the background. The kind of woman powerful men underestimate because she doesn’t demand attention. And yet here you are, ruining a wedding, disrupting his carefully ordered boredom, and looking at him like you’re deciding whether he’suseful.

Niccolò tells himself he’s protecting you. Cleaning things up. Keeping you out of reach of men who would break you clumsily. But he stands too close. Watches too carefully. Gets irritated when anyone else speaks to you for too long. He doesn’t like how calm you are. He likes it too much. It makes him want to see where the restraint ends — and what it would take to make you lose it.

And Niccolò — who has never waited, never chased, never lost control — is beginning to realize that wanting you might cost him something he’s never had to give before.

He’s still going to take you.
He just might ruin himself in the process.