The First Collision

Amara’s POV

His words from dinner still echoed in my chest, heavy as a stone.

“You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I was just a girl who had been pushed into a marriage where love was nothing but a distant dream.

But tonight… I wasn’t going to be invisible anymore.

I sat at the edge of the bed, waiting. The house was silent, the world outside drowning in sleep. My heart raced when the door creaked open and Alexander walked in. His presence filled the room instantly—broad shoulders, dark suit loosened, his tie hanging as if even fabric feared to cling too tightly to him.

Our eyes met. For the first time, I didn’t look away.

“You’re late,” I whispered, my voice steadier than the storm inside me.

He froze. His gaze was sharp, molten, unreadable. Then he moved closer, each step slow, deliberate, making my breath catch.

“And you,” his voice came low, thick, dangerously wet, “don’t know what you’re asking for.”

I swallowed, heat rushing through me, but I lifted my chin. “I’m not asking. I’m living in this storm, Alexander. If I burn… I burn.”

A shadow of a laugh broke from him—dark, sinful. His hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up until our breaths tangled. My skin tingled under his touch, my pulse wild.

“Careful, wife,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “Fire consumes everything.”

“Then let it consume me.”

The second those words left my lips, his mouth was on mine. Hard. Claiming. My breath hitched as his lips devoured me, punishing and desperate. Yet my body betrayed me—I kissed him back with equal fire, my hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as though he was the air I’d been denied.

The world spun when he pushed me back against the bed. His weight pressed over me, caging me in, but instead of fear, all I felt was heat. A wildfire, spreading through every vein. His fingers traced down, slipping against the silk of my nightdress, igniting sparks on my skin.

“A-Alexander…” his name broke from my throat in a trembling moan.

His lips trailed down my neck, biting, kissing, marking. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice a growl against my skin.

“Alexander…” I gasped, clutching him tighter, my legs curling around his waist.

Every movement was raw, every touch electric. The cold man everyone saw outside these walls was gone. Here, with me, he was fire—burning, breaking, needing. And God, I wanted to burn with him.

The sheets twisted under us as our bodies collided, no space left, no hesitation. His breath was ragged against my ear, his voice rough, torn between command and surrender.

“You drive me insane, Amara…” he groaned, his forehead pressing against mine as if he could crawl inside me.

And I whispered back, my voice breaking but sure, “Then let’s be insane together… because tonight, I’m yours. All yours.”

The night melted into fire, into heat and whispered names, into tangled sheets where fear no longer existed. For the first time, I wasn’t just the wife he ignored. I was the woman who made the Mafia King lose control.

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