Chapter 38: Dark thoughts

Fabio’s POV

Power. Influence. That was all it ever took to bend the world to my will.

Many people would have called what I did a scheme, just like Marco had. Some might have even called it absolute madness to go to such lengths just to see a man who was no more than a bed partner. But frankly, I did not care what anyone named it, as long as my head felt quiet again.

For weeks, my mind had been a dark, chaotic mess. I could not focus on anything without having him interrupt. I could not sleep through the night without having him haunting me.

Simply, I could not stop the constant, irritating noise in my own head.

But the moment I saw him standing in the dark, the moment I held him against my chest and felt his pulse under my mouth, the noise stopped. My mind finally felt clear again. I felt sane for the first time in almost a month.

That was the terrifying part.

What in the hell was actually happening to me? How, and more importantly when, did I allow another human being to get this kind of grip on me? I was a man who lived by absolute control. I did not bend for anyone. I did not obsess over casual bedmates. And I certainly did not let another man dictate the rhythm of my pulse or ruin my sleep. I had always been the one holding the leverage. I made the moves, I set the rules, and I walked away whenever things got too familiar.

Yet here I was, completely thrown off balance by a man who did not even seem to be trying.

I clutched the leather of the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white under the faint light from the dashboard. I kept my eyes fixed on the empty road ahead, fighting a silent war inside my own mind.

Next to me, Marco was lying back in the passenger seat with his eyes closed. He looked entirely undisturbed by the tense air between us. His long legs were stretched out into the footwell, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He looked calm, entirely at peace, like he had all the time in the world and nowhere else he would rather be.

Maybe I was overthinking. This was definitely not me.

And still, it irritated me how unbothered he looked.

I told myself that this was just physical. It had to be. It was just a strong, lingering desire, an itch I hadn’t scratched yet because we had been cut off too soon. Feelings were dangerous things.They made powerful men weak and careless. I could never afford them under any circumstances. And especially not with a man like Marco. He was annoying, arrogant, and far too good at pulling me out of my comfort zone.

I exhaled a sharp breath through my nose, trying to shove those dark thoughts away, and pulled the car into the underground garage of my building. I parked in my usual space and turned off the engine. The engine died, and the sudden silence inside the car felt thick and uncomfortable.

"We’re here," I said quietly.

Marco did not rush to move. He slowly opened his eyes, sat up in his seat, and looked over at me in the dim garage light. Then he smiled. It was not his usual cocky grin. This time, it was small and quiet, almost soft, like he was hiding something beneath it.

I looked away before I could start reading too much into it. Looking too closely at Marco now felt like walking into a trap.

"You’re quiet," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. "That’s not like you."

Marco reached down and unbuckled his own belt. His dark eyes never left my face as he answered. "I remember you didn’t like it when I spoke too much."

I paused, my hand resting on the handle of the car door. I turned back to look at him properly. "When did I ever say that?"

Instead of answering normally, Marco shifted his weight and leaned half his body across the center console. He invaded my space until his face was only an inch away from mine.

"So you like it?" he whispered, his voice dropping low and raspy. "The sound of my voice?"

A small smile slipped onto my face before I could stop it. I rolled my eyes away from his gaze and pressed my palm against his shoulder, pushing him back lightly.

"Thinking of it now, I actually like it when you’re quiet," I lied.

Marco let out a deep chuckle that vibrated in his chest before he opened his door and stepped out into the garage. I took a brief second to catch my breath, then opened my door and followed him.

We walked side by side toward the private elevator bay.

As the elevator began to move upward, the quiet came right back. But this time, it felt heavier, almost suffocating.

I kept my hands shoved deep into my pockets and stared at the floor numbers lighting up above the door. I wanted him to talk. I needed him to say anything at all, because if he stayed silent, my mind was going to fall straight back into that dark loop. And every time I let myself think about him, it only got worse.

Marco’s eyes. Marco’s hands. Marco’s mouth.

It was terrifying how easily he took over my thoughts. We had spent weeks apart, miles away from each other, yet he had managed to stay inside my head the entire time. What if this didn’t stop after tonight? What if we slept together and it didn’t fix anything? What if I woke up tomorrow and still wanted him just as much? What would I do then? Chain him to me so I wouldn’t lose my mind?

The chime of the elevator broke my train of thought. The doors slid open to the top floor, and I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I stepped out first, relieved by the escape.

"You sure like swimming in luxury," Marco said behind me. "Are you some secret rich heir or something? This place looks like it costs a fortune. Not to talk of the villa and apartment back in Milan."

My chest warmed up instantly just hearing him speak. His voice sliced right through the dark noise in my head, pulling me back to reality.

"I might be," I said without turning around. "Does that make you want to kiss my ass? You want to be my personal and only bedmate?"

I heard him laugh softly behind me. It was an easy sound, and it made me want to stop in my tracks just to turn around and look at his face. But I kept walking.

"Now who’s overthinking?" he asked, his voice full of sarcasm. "I’m here for something else. Not your money."

I stopped outside the door to my apartment. I pulled out the keycard, but before I swiped it against the lock, I turned around to face him.

"Oh, yeah?" I said, looking up at his face with a small smile. "If I offered you a million dollars a week to do whatever I wanted, would you really say no? Hmm?"

Marco took a single step closer. He loomed over me, his eyes fixed on mine with an unblinking focus.

"Are you tempting me with money now?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, and amused. "Want me to be your gigolo?"

I laughed and turned back to open the door, but Marco reached out, grabbed my arm, and spun me right back around. His hand slid down from my arm and settled firmly on my waist, holding me in place against him.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Well, I wouldn’t mind as long as it’s you," Marco whispered, leaning down until his mouth was right over my ear. The sudden heat of his breath sent a sharp shiver down my spine. "I get to sleep with you and get paid for it? I’m not too proud to take a deal like that."

I didn’t answer right away. My eyes dropped down to his neck. I watched his skin, watching the way his Adam’s apple moved up and down as he spoke.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and pressed my palm flat against his throat. I felt his pulse beating fast against my fingers.

"That would mean I make the rules," I murmured, my thumb tracing his jawline.

Marco swallowed, his neck moving against my hand, but he didn’t pull away. He brought his hand up and rested his fingers lightly over mine, holding my hand against his neck.

"Okay," he muttered, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "I don’t mind."

"What if I say I want to always..." I looked up into his eyes, letting a mischievous glint show in mine, "...be on top?"

Marco raised his eyebrows, a look of mock offense crossing his face. He pulled my waist hard, slamming our bodies together until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.

"Then I might have to pass on that deal," he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Let’s stick with the first one."

I started to laugh, but he didn’t give me the chance.

Marco leaned down and captured my lips with his. He moved fast, taking control before I could even brace myself. His mouth was hard and demanding, pushing me back until my shoulders hit the door frame.

I was not about to just let him take over. I slid my hand up his neck and tangled my fingers into his hair at the back of his head, pulling back hard enough to make him gasp. The second his mouth opened, I pushed my tongue inside, taking the lead right back.

We fought for control right there in the hallway, our breath short and hot against each other’s skin. He pushed back, his tongue sliding against mine, trying to dominate me, but I kept my grip tight in his hair, locking his head where I wanted it.

When we finally ran out of air, we parted just enough to breathe. I reached behind me without looking and swiped my card against the loc. The door opened into the dark apartment, and I pulled him inside by his collar.

The moment the door shut behind us, Marco lost his patience entirely. He grabbed my waist, turned me around, and slammed my back flat against the wood.

The impact knocked the breath out of me, but he was already kissing me again, biting my bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth.

I wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him down into me. His hands slid down my sides, gripping my thighs tightly, and with one lift, he pulled me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back.

He carried me deeper into the dark living room. Our mouths never separated. The quiet of the apartment was filled only with the sound of our breathing and the messy, desperate collision of our lips. I dug my fingers into the shoulders of his jacket, completely lost in the heat of his skin and the weight of his body against mine.

Then came the crash.

The sound of glass shattering against the hard floor echoed through the now dimly lit living room.

We both froze. Marco stopped dead in his tracks, his body going rigid. I pulled my mouth away from his, my chest heaving as the heat vanished instantly.

Slowly, still wrapped around his waist, I turned my head toward the sofa direction where the sound came from.

It was Ethan.

He stood there, swaying on his feet, holding a half-empty bottle of scotch in one hand. He looked at me, then at Marco holding me, then back at me. He blinked slowly, not looking guilty at all.

Then he raised his drunk, shaky hand and gave us a small wave.

"Hi," he slurred.