I don’t move
I don’t breathe.
The world should have ended by now.

It’s the second time. The second time he’s stolen my breath, the second time I’ve forgotten how to exist. He’s here, right here, and yet, I’m lost.

His tongue is in my mouth, leading mine to the dance only he knows. I burn without flame. I drench without the rain. If I were the snow, I would’ve melted by now.

His hands are on me, impatient and those deadly drags of his fingers, tracing the zipper of my hoodie. Tugging, opening and letting the cold breeze hit my partially naked skin. The moment suspends in air like the rest of me, like a held note in a song that should have ended already. Reality slams into me, and I fight. I fight because I know what will happen if I don’t.

He’ll ruin me
And God, maybe I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

His grip is bruising, wrists pined beside my head and his knee wedge between my thighs. The position is sinfully blasphemous, but it feels familiar. Like that night. I can’t forget that night.

He kisses me until I forget how terrifying this man was.

It’s all a game to him anyway. But I am not a game. I am not something to be played with and I am not someone to be undone.

So, I push him. At least I try.

His fingers only tighten like a warning.

I’ve never known a kiss could feel so deep it carves its name into your bones. The kind that steals the air from your lungs,
leaves your knees trembling like autumn leaves caught in the wind. A kiss that isn’t just lips on lips—but a collision of souls, a supernova behind shuttered eyelids. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission, only takes, only claims,
leaving fingerprints on the very marrow of your being.

It’s gravity and chaos. A wildfire that doesn’t burn. Your lot shifts, the earth tilts, the stars realign—because in that heartbeat, in that impossible moment, the universe is nothing but the space between your lips and theirs.

I feel the same way.

I pant, he grumbles, going for another kiss when I look at me. My vision is blurry and that’s when I realise there’re tears in my eyes, either from feeling overwhelmed or apparently oxygen deprived.

Massimo’s eyes focus on my lips before moving to meet mine, and something flickers in them. It’s subtle but recognisable if I’m not so bothered.

I mutter between the pants. “You… you think this is a game?”

“I don’t. Do you want it to be?”

I swallow. My voice barely comes out. “What do you want from me, Massimo? Why’re you… here?”

And not with Anna or Sienna? Why are you standing in front of me as I truly matter to you. Even if it’s for a minute breath. The words remain in my mouth though. Never make their way to him, strange how he could heart the pulsating beats of my heart but not my… feelings.

“I told you not let anyone touch you, didn’t I?” Velvety voice caressed my ears. Dark and smooth. There it is. The possessiveness… the weird glints of grey and steel in his eyes. “And yet, you take my words lightly, Bambina.” His thumb swipes over my lower lip. “Should I remind you again?”

I shake my head, letting his touch fall off my skin. “This… needs to stop. You can’t kiss me like this. I’m not… yours and I can’t have myself being pulled into the abyss again...”

“And who decides that?”

‘I do.”

His smile is cruel. “And since when do I start caring about what you want?”

I freeze. Cause he’s right. Since when?

His fingers move to my throat. A fetaherlight touch but as commanding as his presence. “You let filthy bastards touch you so easily.” His voice lowers, drips like molten sin. “Let them put their dirty hands on you like they have fucking rights.” He leans and his breath brands my skin. “But I don’t. bambina?”

Mu pulse stutters.

“If I want to kiss your mouth, I don’t need your permission. If I decide to make you mine, you won’t stop me. And even if you do, that’ll only tempt me. So, trade wisely.”

There’s no softness in the way he speaks, and not even in the way he looks at me. And definitely not in the way he touches me, like he’s already decided. And the rest world is just late to the realisation. Me included.

But I am not his. I refuse to be.

I take a step back, putting distance between us even though the wall behind me is pushing me back into his arms. Massimo doesn’t move, just stares at me with his cold eyes and detached gaze.

“Tell me, bambina, do I get you excited?” His voice is deep now, and so are his eyes that are peering into my soul. “You loved me first.”

I look at him but say nothing. If he thinks he can ruffle my feather, make my trembling heart shuffle, he truly doesn’t know how far I’ve come. His provocative words will not affect me. At least, not until I decide.

And despite the feather light touches or kisses, I maintain my calm.

He cocks his head to the side, giving me a mechanical once-over like I’m the problem he needs to solve. Like it’s me who is cornering him and kissed him forcefully. “I still remember that letter. Dear Massimo, I’ve never felt what I feel for you. You make my heart flutter…” He recites it like a poem he’s remembered from childhood, and the more he speaks, the deeper it’s hitting. “Everyone likes you, I like you too.

I swallow past the tightness in my throat willing my expression to remain neutral. “That was momentarily crush.” I try to make my voice sharp, yet it comes out as a whisper. 

His eyes darken, flickering downward for a moment before returning to mine. Something flashes in them, something I can’t quite name. “Momentary?” His voice lowers as he breathes into my face. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

I don’t get the chance to answer before he moves. One hand fists into my hair, yanking my head back, exposing the curve of my throat to him like an offering. My pulse betrays me, hammering wildly beneath my skin.

His lips hover over the sensitive spot beneath my jaw, his breath hot, intoxicating. “Tell me, Bambina…” His fingers flex against my scalp, just enough to sting. “Did it feel momentary when you wrote my name over and over again? When you imagined my hands on you?”

A breath shudders out of me, but I force myself to stay still, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to me.

His other hand finds my waist, rough fingers pressing in, dragging me against him until there’s nothing—nothing—separating us. My hands come up to shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He only grins, tilting his head as if daring me to fight him harder.

“You liked me once,” he murmurs, tracing his nose along my jaw. His teeth nip at my skin—sharp, teasing, possessive. “You still like me. No matter how much you lie to yourself, your body tells me the truth.”

I suck in a sharp breath as his grip tightens, holding me steady, keeping me in place like I’m something breakable—something his.

“Massimo—”

“Say it again,” he interrupts, voice like a growl, like an unspoken demand. His teeth scrape the shell of my ear, and I jerk in response.

“Say what?” I manage to bite out, voice shaking.

“My name.” His hand slides lower, possessive fingers digging into my hip. “Say it like you did in that letter.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but that’s a mistake. Because the second I do, I feel everything—the heat of his body caging mine, the way he’s touching me like he already owns me, like I belong to him whether I admit it or not.

His grip is a noose, tight enough to make me gasp, to remind me who holds the power here. His breath skates over my lips, hot, maddening. The scent of him—smoke, leather, something dark and sinful—wraps around me like a cage.

"I was trying to be civil with you." His voice is smooth as a blade sliding between ribs, dark amusement curling at the edges. "But looks like you like it better when I force your hand."

I bare my teeth, anger slicing through my veins like fire. "Let go."

A chuckle. Deep. Wicked. Like he’s already won. "Let go?" His fingers tighten on my waist, his thumb dragging slow, burning circles into my skin. "Now why would I do that, Bambina? When I know you don’t want me to?"

"You don’t know anything about me."

His grin sharpens, his fingers threading into my hair as he tilts my head back, baring my throat like a sacrifice. "Oh, but I do." His lips hover, never touching, just enough to make me feel the heat of him, to steal the very air from my lungs. "I know you wrote my name over and over again. I know you dreamed of my hands on you before you decided to hate me. Tell me, did it feel momentary then?"

My breath stutters. Shame slithers beneath my ribs, twisting, burning. He’s picking me apart, dismantling me piece by piece, and the worst part? I can’t tell if I want to run or collapse into it.

"Here’s how this will go." His voice drops lower, a quiet promise laced with poison. "You’ll be my girlfriend."

I blink. What?

"You’ll be mine." He says it like a claim, like a sentence. "And in return, I’ll give you immunity. No one will dare touch you, no one will look at you the wrong way. You’ll survive this year unscathed."

I force my chin up, ignoring the wild hammering of my pulse. "And if I refuse?"

His smirk fades. His fingers trail up my spine, slow, deliberate, until his palm settles against the back of my neck. Holding me. Caging me. "Then I’ll make your life hell."

The words are a whisper, a promise wrapped in steel.

"Everywhere you turn, you’ll find me there." He leans in, his mouth a breath away from mine. "Blocking your path. Tearing down your walls. Ruining you in ways you can’t even imagine." His lips ghost my jaw. "You won’t last a day, Bambina. Not against me."

I swallow hard, nails digging into my palms. He’s bluffing. He has to be bluffing.

But then he murmurs, "Is that what you want? For me to make every choice for you?"

And I realize something awful.

He already is.

Pulling me to his face, his grey-blue eyes penetrates into my soul. "You have five minutes," he murmurs, his grip tightening, dragging me closer until there’s nothing—nothing—between us but the heat of his breath and the unspoken ruin hanging between us. "Five minutes to decide."

His fingers slide up my throat, curling around the nape of my neck with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down my back. "By the end, you will be mine, or  regret it in ways you can't even fathom."