Mafia Lords Possession Little Toy

The bass of the music pulsed through the air, vibrating the marble floors beneath Valeria De Luca's stilettos. The club was drenched in dim golden light, the scent of expensive liquor and seduction thick in the air. Everywhere she turned, men in tailored suits lounged in private booths, their gazes predatory, their wallets open. Women in slinky dresses curled around them like silk, murmuring promises they'd never keep.

Valeria belonged here. Not as one of those women who batted their lashes for a man's attention-no, she was the type to make a man beg. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she never left without it.

Tonight was no different.

She sat at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, her black satin dress hugging every curve. The plunging neckline was deliberate-dangerous men were easily distracted, and she had mastered the art of using it to her advantage. She lifted her glass of whiskey to her lips, savoring the burn.

"Drinking alone?"

The voice was smooth, deep, laced with a kind of authority that sent a ripple down her spine. She didn't turn immediately-men like that expected immediate attention. She made them wait.

After a deliberate pause, she turned her head.

And met a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.

He was tall, his presence demanding even in the chaos of the club. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, exposing a hint of tanned skin, and the way his suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders told her everything she needed to know. This was a man who wore power like a second skin, who was used to being obeyed.

Intriguing.

"I like my own company," Valeria said, tilting her head as she studied him. "But if you plan on changing that, I suggest you start with a name."

He smirked, a slow, knowing expression. "Alex."

Just Alex. No last name. No explanation.

Dangerous men rarely gave more than that.

"Well, Alex," she murmured, running a finger along the rim of her glass. "What brings you to my side of the bar?"

"Curiosity." He leaned in, and the scent of something expensive-whiskey and woodsmoke-wrapped around her. "You don't belong here."

That made her laugh. "Oh, I belong everywhere."

Something flickered in his eyes, something sharp. He leaned back against the bar, watching her like she was a puzzle he was deciding whether or not to solve.

"You like money," he said bluntly.

Valeria didn't even blink. "And you like power. We all have our weaknesses."

His lips twitched. "You're not afraid of me."

"No." She swirled the last of her whiskey, meeting his gaze. "Should I be?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

They both knew the truth.

The tension between them coiled tighter, the air thick with something neither of them wanted to name. She wasn't sure who moved first-him or her-but suddenly, he was closer, his fingers grazing her wrist.

"Come with me," he said.

It wasn't a question.

Valeria should have said no. Should have walked away. But there was something intoxicating about him, something dark and consuming, and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to lose control.

She slid off the barstool, her smile slow and wicked.

"Lead the way."

Valeria wasn't sure how they made it to the penthouse. One moment, they were stepping into the elevator, tension crackling like a live wire. The next, she was pressed against the cool glass of a floor-to-ceiling window, her breath hitching as his lips traced the curve of her throat.