Chapter 5 - The Flame in the Storm
Penelope clung to Julian’s neck, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her entire body trembled violently as she buried her face into the curve of his neck, breathing in the familiar, grounding scent of his cedarwood cologne and warm skin.
“I’ve got you,” Julian choked out, his arms wrapped around her waist with a crushing, protective force that felt like a iron vise. His heart was hammering against hers with equal violence. “I’ve got you, my love. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He buried his face into her soft hair, kissing her temple, her cheek, her forehead, his hands trembling as he checked her arms and shoulders for injuries.
“Are you hurt? Talk to me, Penelope. Are you hurt?” he rasped, his dark eyes frantic as he searched her face.
“I’m... I’m okay,” she sobbed softly, wiping a tear from her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m okay, Julian. You caught me.”
Down below, Marco and twenty armed guards had flooded the perimeter, weapons drawn, securing the site as emergency sirens began to blare in the distance.
Julian slowly lifted her into his arms, carrying her down the emergency stairs as if she weighed nothing at all. He ignored the frantic questions of the union bosses and the construction crews, carrying her directly into the back seat of his armored SUV.
He pulled the heavy door shut, sealing them inside the quiet, leather-scented interior.
Julian sat beside her, instantly pulling her back into his lap. He framed her face with his massive, warm hands, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying mixture of immense relief and cold, murderous rage.
“That cable didn't snap due to stress,” Julian whispered, his thumb gently tracing the tear track on her cheek. “The steel was cut.”
Penelope froze, her dark eyes widening in shock. “Cut?”
“A high-tension braided cable doesn't fray like that,” Julian said, his tone dropping into a deadly register. “It was sheared with an industrial cutting torch within the last two hours.”
Someone had tried to murder her. Someone had tried to drop her fifty feet onto concrete pilings to stop the Castellano port project—or to break the man who owned it.
Penelope looked into Julian’s eyes and saw the absolute, terrifying depth of his feelings for her. There was no corporate detachment. There was no cold mob boss calculations. In his eyes was a man who had just watched his entire world almost drop into the sea.
“Julian...” she whispered.
“I almost lost you,” Julian choked out, his voice cracking with a raw, agonizing emotion that shattered his usual untouchable armor. “I stood on that dock and saw you falling, and my heart stopped beating.”
He didn't wait for her to answer. He leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, desperate, overwhelming kiss.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was filled with three months of suppressed desire, the lingering terror of near-loss, and a fierce, possessive hunger that made Penelope’s head spin.
Penelope didn't pull away. She gasped against his mouth, opening to him, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders and pulling his heavy frame closer.
She had spent three months pretending that her feelings for Julian Castellano were purely professional. She had told herself that a powerful mafia monarch could never truly want a curvy, practical architect like her for anything more than her drafts.
But as his hands slid down her waist, gripping her wide hips through her jumpsuit, pulling her full, soft curves flush against his hard thighs, every single doubt vanished into ash.
Julian let out a low, guttural groan against her mouth, his hands tangling in her thick dark hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue claiming her with absolute, undisputed mastery.
When he finally pulled back two inches to let her breathe, both of them were panting, their chests rising and falling together in the warm interior of the vehicle.
“You belong to me, Penelope,” Julian growled softly against her lips, his dark eyes blazing with an intense, unbreakable oath. “From the moment you stood on my balcony and told me my party was a disaster, you became mine. And whoever tried to hurt you today will rot in hell before the sun sets.”
May you like
Penelope rested her hand against his broad, warm cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath her fingers, her full lips curving into a confident, radiant smile.
“Then let’s go find them, Mr. Castellano,” she whispered.
