XAVIER POV

The camera lens didn’t lie. I watched everything.

Perched on the rooftop across from her building, hidden in the shadows like a ghost in the sky, my long-range lens followed every move. Every breath. Every detail.

Luciano stormed into her apartment without hesitation. No information is hidden from him so long as new York is concerned.

The bastard didn’t even knock like a civilized man. Just banged on the door and marched in like he owned the air she breathed. And she let him.

I gritted my teeth, zooming in closer.

The camera caught her face — flushed, defiant, stunning in that clingy black tank and shorts — as she pointed at him. Argued. Fought him like the wild flower she is.

My wild flower. Then he kissed her.

My hand clenched around the camera so hard I thought the lens would crack.

He kissed her. She didn’t slap him. She didn’t pull away. She kissed him back.

“Fucking hell…” I muttered, yanking the camera down.

I couldn’t watch anymore.

Not another second of him tasting her. Touching her. Not when it was supposed to be me.

******************

Inside the hotel room, the light was dim. Soft jazz played from the speaker I no longer heard. The king-sized bed was a war zone of obsession — photographs of Daisy scattered like fallen snow.

Some were still warm from the printer. Her leaving the bodega. Her laughing into her phone outside the laundromat.

Her pointing a gun at some poor punk in Harlem. Her lips. Her smile. Her goddamn eyes.

And now… now I’d need to add a new picture. Daisy Monroe, leaving her apartment in the middle of the night. With Luciano Morreti.

I stared at the mess of pictures on my bed like they were puzzle pieces I couldn’t fit together.

“She was supposed to be mine,” I whispered, voice low, cracking with fury. “I saw her first.”

The photos blurred for a second as red crept into my vision. I moved to the table near the minibar and grabbed a bottle of brandy. Poured two fingers. Didn’t even taste it as it scorched down my throat.

Luciano always took what he wanted. Always.

Even when it wasn’t his to take.

But Daisy? No. Not this time. Not her.

I snatched a photo from the bed — her in that little black hoodie, walking home last Thursday — and held it up.

“You’re not his,” I told her image. “You’re mine.”

I let the glass slip from my hand. It shattered against the floor. Just like my patience. Just like the boundary I swore I wouldn’t cross.

Time for Luciano to remember one thing. I may be the forgotten brother. The shadow in the dark. But I always take back what’s mine. Even if I have to burn everything to the ground to do it.

*********************

LUCIANO POV

The double doors swung open as I led her in.

The skyline of Manhattan glittered beyond the walls like a kingdom I owned. But tonight, it felt hollow. Because she was in it.

And nothing had ever shaken me like Daisy Monroe.

She stalked ahead of me, arms folded, lips twisted in a permanent scowl. Still in that cropped top and denim shorts. Still walking like she feared nothing.

Still pretending she wasn’t afraid.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” I said, voice like gravel. “You're safer here.”

She spun around, brows raised. “I didn’t ask for safety.”

“No,” I said, closing the door behind me, locking it. “But you damn well need it.”

I stepped past her, walking into the massive open space where glass walls overlooked the city. “You’ll sleep in my private suite. It’s secure. Soundproofed. Armed guards on the floor below.”

She blinked at me, stiffening like she hadn’t heard me right.

“In your what?”

“My bed,” I clarified. “Try not to get any ideas. This is about control. Not pleasure.”

Her jaw clenched. “You really have a god complex, don’t you?”

I ignored the bait. Instead, I turned to face her fully.

“Disobey me,” I warned, my voice cutting sharper than steel, “and face the punishment.”

She flinched — a small movement, but I caught it. A flicker in her eyes.

Something deep. Something old. And something that made me want to murder whoever gave her that reflex.

Still, she lifted her chin like a defiant soldier. “No matter what you do,” she said softly, “I can never be yours.”

I stared at her.

For one long second, I considered dragging her into the suite and making her understand exactly how wrong she was. Instead, I turned and walked away. Because if I touched her now, I’d never stop.

And she didn’t belong to me. Not yet.

I slammed the door behind me and left her standing there in my silence.

***********************

DAISY POV

The penthouse was too clean. Too quiet. Too damn cold.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms wrapped around myself, staring out at the endless city that pulsed beneath my feet like some glowing machine.

Luciano's world. Not mine.

I should’ve been screaming at the top of my lungs. I should’ve broken a lamp or thrown a chair through one of these glass walls. I should’ve tried to run.

But instead…I was thinking about his mouth. His warning. The way his voice dropped when he said punishment. And how a dark part of me wanted to ask what that meant. I hated myself for it.

I hated how he kissed me— rough, angry, selfish — and how my body remembered every second of it.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and exhaled. Why can’t I get him out of my head? Why do I feel like I just walked into the devil’s cage... and bolted the door myself? I wasn’t some stupid girl who got weak around power. But Luciano wasn’t just power. He was temptation wrapped in sin. Cruelty hidden in charm. And somehow…God help me. I wanted more.

I closed my eyes, whispering to the skyline like it could hear me:

“I’ll never be his.”

But the tremble in my voice?

Even I didn’t believe it.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)