In the parking garage, Vincenzo shoved Lara against the car before the driver could even open the door.
"What the hell were you doing?" he growled, his hot breath brushing her lips.
"Did you really have to drag me out of there like that?"
"You were laughing at his jokes."
"I was gathering information," she shot back. "You're the one always telling me to act like a player."
"With me, yes. Not with them."
"Or did you want me to ignore the only lead we've got?" She stared him down, defiant.
The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly.
"Do you even know who Edgar Campos is?"
"No. But you do."
He yanked the car door open hard enough to make it slam against the frame.
"Get in. Now."
As soon as the doors shut, Vincenzo pulled out a tablet and typed furiously. A photo appeared on the screen—a man in his early fifties, wearing a shark-like grin.
"He's one of the people who helped the press destroy your father," Vincenzo said flatly. "And now he's playing golf with the prosecutor on the case."
A chill swept down Lara's spine.
"Which just proves that Hélio Campos is mixed up in all of this!" Lara snapped, fury in her voice.
Vincenzo's fingers tightened around the tablet, his knuckles turning white before he tossed it onto the seat opposite them.
"And you were encouraging him." His voice was rough, almost animalistic.
Lara let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"What did you expect me to do? Sit there like a statue?"
"I expected you not to smile at him like you were imagining what it'd be like to kiss him."
Lara turned to face him, her body still tense, her pulse racing from the confrontation at the restaurant.
"So now you're jealous?" she asked, her voice low, dripping with provocation.
Vincenzo didn't answer.
Instead, he pressed a button on the console, and the privacy window rose, sealing them off completely from the driver.
"Were you imagining what it would be like to kiss him?"
"And if I was?"
That was the last straw.
Vincenzo moved too fast for her to react. One hand seized her wrist, yanking her toward him, while the other tangled in her hair, tilting her face upward.
"You're mine." The words came out in a snarl through gritted teeth, but Lara had no chance to respond.
His mouth crashed down on hers with a possessiveness that stole her breath. It wasn't a kiss, it was a brand, a claim. His lips were hard, demanding, and she answered with the same wild heat, biting his lower lip until she tasted blood.
Vincenzo let out a low groan, a vibration that shot straight to her core. His hand slid from her hair to the neckline of her dress, fingers finding the curve of her breast with a pressure that made her entire body burn.
"You used it against me," he murmured against her lips, his teeth grazing her neck. "You made him look. You made him want."
Lara arched into him, her legs trembling.
"You noticed every detail, didn't you?" she teased, breathless.
His response was a grip on her waist so hard it bordered on painful as he dragged her onto his lap. She could feel the solid, tense heat of his body, vibrating with barely restrained need.
"I notice everything when it comes to you." His voice was a threat, but his hands trembled slightly as he pulled down the side zipper of her dress.
The fabric slipped off her shoulders, and the car's cool air hit her exposed skin, sending shivers racing over her flesh. Vincenzo paused for a second, just staring, as though branding every detail into his memory.
Raw desire. Pure jealousy.
"You have no idea what it does to me when another man looks at you like that," he murmured against her lips.
Lara gasped as she felt his teeth scrape lightly along her neck. One of his hands was already beneath her dress, sliding upward along her thighs with lethal precision.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look at her.
"Then prove it," she whispered.
Vincenzo growled like a predator about to sink his teeth into its prey. He shoved her dress up, exposing the delicate lingerie she'd chosen out of obligation, and which now seemed as though it had been made for this exact moment.
His lips traced a path down her chest, while his other hand gripped the back of her neck, keeping her gaze locked onto his.
"You were stunning. And I hated every second of it," he confessed, his voice thick with possessive desire. "I hate that I need you for this game. I hate that you're so fucking good at it."
She moaned as she felt his fingers slip past the last barrier of fabric.
"Then use me," she murmured. "The way you've always wanted."
He ripped her panties off in one swift, violent motion, shredding the delicate fabric as if it were nothing. His eyes burned like embers as he stared at her. And then, without another word, he claimed her right there on the leather seat, as though he needed to remind her, remind himself, that she belonged to him.
******
Vincenzo pushed open the apartment door and walked in without looking back. Lara followed close behind, her hair disheveled, the black dress wrinkled from the ruthless contact in the backseat of the car, and yet something was radiating from her that screamed power. An elegant fury that Vincenzo knew all too well… and feared.
He tossed his keys onto the glass counter and strode toward the sofa.
Vincenzo's phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, and Lara saw his shoulders stiffen even before he answered. "Talk," he said curtly.
Whoever was on the other end made his eyes darken. Lara couldn't hear the conversation, but she watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, his fingers clenching the phone as though he wanted to crush it.
"Understood."
He hung up abruptly.
"Who was that?" Lara demanded, stepping closer.
Vincenzo didn't even look at her.
"I have to leave."
"What? Now?"
"Yes. Now." He finally lifted his face, but his expression was shut tight. "You stay here. Rest."
Lara felt her blood boil.
"My father is in the hands of kidnappers, and you expect me to lie down and sleep as if nothing is happening?"
Vincenzo took a deep breath, as if hanging onto his patience by a thread.
"Lara, this isn't the time."
"Not the time?" She stepped closer, her chest heaving. "You know something. Who called?"
He didn't answer.
"Tell me!"
He sighed, exasperated.
"You need to rest, Lara. Tomorrow..."
"Rest?!" She let out a humorless laugh. "While my father is in the hands of criminals?!"
"Your father is a criminal, Lara!" His voice exploded, echoing off the penthouse walls.
It was as if the world froze for a second.
Lara didn't think. She lifted her hand and slapped him across the face.
The crack of skin against skin sounded louder than any scream. Vincenzo didn't flinch, didn't even blink. But his eyes darkened like a storm about to break, and a chill swept down Lara's spine.
She'd gone too far.
For a second, she thought he would strike back. That his rage would finally spill over. Instead, he merely tilted his head slightly, as though considering something.
"You're going to stay here," he said, his voice calm, but each word was a knife. "You're going to obey. And you will not test me again."
Lara swallowed hard.
"Or what?" she whispered, though she already knew the answer.
He stared at her for several long seconds, then stepped away, fury in every line of his body. He grabbed his jacket, his phone, and started toward the door.
"Vincenzo…"
"Lara." He cut her off, already gripping the doorknob. "If anything happens to you, I'll kill someone. And I don't want to kill anyone today."
And then, without waiting for a reply, he slammed the door behind him.
Lara stood there, alone. Face burning, heart pounding… and with the terrible sense that, from this moment on, nothing was under control anymore.