Alessandro's Pov

I leaned back against the plush leather of the backseat of Maybach, the city's lights blurring past the tinted windows as my driver navigated through the evening traffic.

The two beauties beside me, Sofia and Isabella, were a perfect distraction from the impending boardroom battle.

Sofia’s manicured nails raked up my inner thigh, then deftly popped the button of my Brioni trousers. The zipper hissed down under her fingers like she was unwrapping a gift she’d been starving for. Her dark eyes flicked up, pupils blown wide with lust and just the right amount of fear.

“You’re so fucking hard already, Alessandro,” she breathed, voice thick and syrupy. “All that power makes your cock throb, doesn’t it?”

I fisted her thick, glossy hair and yanked her face down until her glossy lips brushed the leaking head. “Less talking, more sucking, puttana,” I snarled, my Italian accent rolling heavy and dark. “Show me why I paid for that expensive mouth.”

She moaned at the insult…loved it and swallowed me to the root in one greedy glide. Hot, slick velvet clamped around me; her throat fluttered, gagging just enough to send lightning up my spine. I held her there, hips flexing lazily, fucking her face in shallow, possessive strokes while she drooled down my shaft.

God, I loved this life. Power, money, and women who knew their place. Tonight's meeting with the investors could make or break the merger, but why rush when pleasure was right here?

Isabella wasn’t waiting for permission. She swung one long leg over my lap, scarlet dress already bunched at her waist, black lace thong soaked through and clinging obscenely to her swollen lips that begged to be torn off.

Her hands roamed over my chest, unbuttoning my crisp white shirt as she ground against me hard, smearing wet heat across the base of my cock while Sofia’s tongue swirled below.

“Feel how drenched I am for you?” Isabella purred against my ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “I’ve been dripping since you looked at me in the club like you already owned me.”

I chuckled darkly, my free hand sliding under her dress to cup her ass. I ripped the lace aside with one brutal tug, fabric tearing like paper and plunged three fingers knuckle-deep into her tight, pulsing cunt.

No warning, no gentleness. She screamed, back bowing, nails clawing bloody trails down my chest through the open shirt.

“Fuck! yes….stretch me, you bastard,” she gasped, riding my hand like she was trying to break it.

I curled my fingers viciously against her front wall, thumb grinding brutal circles on her clit. Her walls spasmed, gushing slick down my wrist. Her moans fill the confined space of the car.

The driver kept his eyes on the road, as he should. I'd paid him well to ignore whatever happened back here.

These girls were just the latest in a long line, picked up from that exclusive club downtown. They thought they could charm their way into my world, maybe snag a piece of my fortune. Fools. I used them like toys, discarding them when boredom set in.

But right now, with Sofia's tongue swirling and Isabella riding my hand, I felt like a king.

She hummed approval around my cock, the vibration ripping a guttural sound from my throat.

“Harder, Sofia,” I growled. “Choke on it. I want tears.”

She obeyed instantly, head bobbing frantically, throat convulsing, mascara already streaking as she fought for air. Saliva dripped in thick strings from her chin onto my balls.

I tightened my grip in her hair until she whimpered around me, the sound muffled and obscene.

My mind flashed to the meeting ahead, the cutthroat negotiations where I'd crush my rivals and partners without mercy. Just like I was dominating these two now. Life was a game, and I always won.

The car hit a bump, jolting us, but it only heightened the intensity. Sofia's mouth worked harder, her hands gripping my thighs as I neared the edge.

Isabella was close already, shaking, thighs trembling, cunt clamping like a vice. I added a fourth finger, forcing her open wider, and she shattered with a broken sob. “Dio…..cazzo….Alessandro! I’m cuming….fuck…….!”

Her release flooded my palm, hot and messy. I didn’t let up, kept finger-fucking her through the aftershocks until she was a trembling, oversensitive wreck collapsed against my shoulder, whimpering my name like a prayer.

I hauled Sofia off my cock by her hair with a wet pop. Her lips were swollen, chin glistening, eyes glassy and desperate.

I shoved her backward onto the wide seat, spread her thighs wide, and ripped her thong clean off. Her pussy was flushed dark pink, clit throbbing, inner thighs slick with her own arousal.

“Look at this greedy little cunt,” I muttered, slapping her swollen folds hard enough to make her yelp and arch. “Soaking the leather because you get off on being used.”

I lined up and slammed home in one punishing thrust, buried to the hilt, balls slapping wetly against her ass.

She screamed, legs snapping around my waist, heels digging into my back. “Too big…..fuck! too deep…..!” she wailed, even as her hips bucked up to meet me.

“Take it,” I hissed, pounding into her with short, brutal strokes that jolted her whole body. “Every fucking inch. You exist for this cock tonight.”

Isabella crawled closer, hungry again. She leaned down, pulled Sofia’s dress and sucked one of Sofia’s nipples into her mouth, biting hard while her fingers found Sofia’s clit and rubbed fast, vicious circles.

Sofia lost it, back arching off the seat, cunt clamping down so tight I saw stars. “Alessandro!.....porca troia……I’m gonna…gonna squirt…..!”

“Do it,” I ordered, slamming deeper, grinding against her cervix. “Soak the fucking car. Show me what a filthy slut you are for me.”

She broke with a wail that echoed in the confined space, clear fluid gushing around my cock, drenching my thighs, the seat, everything. The obscene wet slap of our bodies grew louder, filthier.

I felt the pressure coiling low in my gut, balls tightening. I yanked out at the last second, fisted my slick cock, and barked, “On your knees, both of you…..mouths open.”

They scrambled to obey, faces pressed cheek-to-cheek, tongues out, eyes locked on me like I was their fucking god.

I stroked once, twice,....then erupted.

Thick ropes of cum painted Sofia’s tongue first, then Isabella’s, then streaked across both their faces in messy, claiming arcs. They moaned, licking at each other, swapping my release between their mouths while I milked the last drops onto their lips.

I tucked myself away, straightened my shirt, and lit a cigarette as the car rolled to a smooth stop outside the tower.

“Out,” I said, voice ice-cold again.

They blinked, dazed, cum still dripping from their chins, dresses ruined.

I exhaled smoke. “Now.”

They stumbled onto the curb, legs shaky, lipstick smeared, hair wrecked, looking exactly like the used-up toys they were.

Another day, another victory. The world was mine to take.

The driver didn’t even glance in the mirror.

I took another drag, watching the city glitter beyond the glass before stepping out. The meeting waited, and emotions were for the weak.

I straightened my tie and smoothed down my rumpled shirt as the car door clicked shut behind me.

The cool night air hit my face, a stark contrast to the heated chaos I'd just left in the backseat. My fingers, adorned with heavy gold rings encrusted with diamonds and emeralds, flexed as I adjusted my cufflinks. Each ring was a trophy from deals sealed in blood and ink, symbols of the empire I'd built.

My dark hair, slightly tousled from Isabella’s eager hands, fell in calculated waves over my forehead, giving me that effortless edge I knew turned heads.

But it was my eyes, piercing green like shattered emeralds, that scanned everything as I strode toward the skyscraper's entrance. They missed nothing: the doorman's subtle nod, the security cameras whirring overhead, the faint reflection of my imposing frame in the glass doors.

I was always watching, always calculating.

The lobby fell silent the moment I stepped inside. Executives mid-conversation froze, assistants halted their frantic typing, and even the receptionist straightened her posture.

They all bowed their heads slightly, murmuring respectful "Buonasera, Signor Moretti" in unison. I didn't acknowledge them, just kept walking with purposeful strides toward the private elevator. This was routine. They knew their place in my world, and I reveled in the power it exuded.

Tonight's meeting was crucial: a gathering of the CEOs from my legitimate white-collar partnerships. Real estate, tech ventures, luxury imports. All clean on paper, all feeding into my vast network.

We were discussing expansions, profit shares, and ensuring no one stepped out of line. I thrived on these sessions, where I could remind them who held the reins.

The elevator doors opened directly into the conference room on the top floor, and the chatter inside died instantly. The dozen or so men around the massive oak table stood up, their chairs scraping back in haste. They lowered their heads, a chorus of "Signor Moretti" echoing softly.

I gave them an arrogant smirk, striding to the head chair without a word. Sinking into the leather, I gestured lazily for them to sit. As they complied, my eyes swept the room, noting the empty seat to my right. Russo's chair.

I opened my mouth to demand where the hell he was when the sharp click of heels echoed from the hallway.

Every neck craned toward the door. In walked a vision that hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was stunning, an Indian beauty with warm olive skin that glowed under the room's soft lighting, long raven-black hair pulled into an elegant bun that exposed the graceful curve of her neck. Her eyes were deep brown, almond-shaped and sharp, holding an intelligence that could cut glass.

She wore a maroon business suit that hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her full curves, the skirt ending just above her knees to reveal toned legs that moved with confident grace.

Who the hell was this?

The men around the table stared with hungry eyes, shifting in their seats like predators scenting prey. But none were as ravenous as I felt. Curiosity burned in me.

This wasn't some fragile flower; she was a storm walking into my den, a mouse daring to face the lion. And damn, it intrigued me.

She stopped at the threshold, her composed expression unchanging, and addressed us coolly. "Good evening, gentlemen."

The room fell silent as she entered. Every CEO present was used to seeing beautiful women, models, actresses, but none like her.

Her suit was tailored perfectly, her heels click-clicking confidently on the marble floor. Her hair was up in an elegant bun, classy yet sexy as hell, and those lips. Her voice was like velvet, smoky, sultry, and it wrapped around every man's neck like a silk scarf.

My eyes never left hers as I stood up from my seat at the head of the table. Why? I don't know. I just did.

My voice was deep, commanding. "And who might this enchanting creature be?"

She smirked, her brown eyes steady and unflinching. "Is this how you address a business partner? Enchanting creature?"

My lips quirked into a smirk, my eyes sparkling with amusement and something else, interest.

"Indeed, it is. I'm Alessandro Moretti." I extended my hand toward her, my gaze never leaving hers.

The other CEOs watched with envy as her hand disappeared into my large, strong grip.

She shook firmly, her touch electric. "Aarika Singh. After taking over Mr. Russo's company, I'm now your new partner."

"Aarika." I tasted her name on my tongue like a fine wine, savoring it slowly. I don’t give a fuck why, when, or how Russo sold his company.

Right now, the only thing that has me completely captivated… is her.

"An exotic name for an exotic woman." I pulled out the chair beside me, my eyes never leaving hers. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Singh."

She sat with effortless poise. "Thank you, Mr. Moretti."

As she settled, the other CEOs began to whisper amongst themselves, completely ignored by me. My entire focus was on her, her perfume, her hair, the way her suit hugged her curves.

Damn me.

I’ve never been drawn to anyone like this. Women usually crawl to me on their knees. I never chase. I never get pulled.

But there’s something about this woman.

Something dangerous. Something that keeps dragging me toward her… whether I want it or not. I cannot take my eyes off this woman.

She leaned back slightly, her expression composed, hard to read. "Shall we begin?"

I nodded, my eyes sparkling with intrigue. "By all means, let's begin."

But as the other CEOs started presenting their reports, my attention wandered back to her. I noticed how she took notes, how she asked intelligent questions, how she commanded respect without raising her voice.

Fucking beauty with a brain.

Three hours passed. Contracts were signed, numbers were discussed, handshakes exchanged. But my real business was watching her.

When the meeting ended, I stayed seated, watching the other men file out, some still stealing glances her way. My jaw tightened.

Why does it bother me when another man looks at her?

"Walk with me, bella."

She turned, her expression unchanging. "I prefer Ms. Singh, Mr. Moretti."

My eyes glinted with amusement at her correction. "Of course, Ms. Singh." I stood up, buttoning my suit jacket. "Shall we?" I extended my arm toward the door, my eyes never leaving hers. As we walked side by side, I noticed how her heels clicked in perfect rhythm with my shoes, like a dangerous dance.

I led her to a private balcony overlooking the city skyline. The lights sparkled like diamonds beneath us. I leaned against the railing, crossing my arms over my chest.

"So." My eyes scanned her face slowly. "Aarika Singh. Never heard of you in my circles. Yet here you are, sitting at my table, commanding attention like you own the room."

She met my gaze steadily, her voice calm. "I'm new here."

"Ah, a newcomer." My lips curled into a smile, revealing a hint of straight white teeth. "And what brings a woman like you to Italy, Ms. Singh?" My voice was low, almost a purr. "Business? Pleasure?" My gaze drifted to her lips briefly before snapping back up to her eyes.

"Passion." She answered without a pause, in just a fucking single word that went straight to my cock.

My eyebrow arched slightly. "Passion, huh?" I uncrossed my arms and stepped closer, invading her personal space. "What's your passion, Bella?" My voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down my own spine at the proximity. She had that kind of aura… and for the first time in my life, I was losing my mind over a woman’s presence like this. "Art? Fashion? Or perhaps something more intense?"

"Power."

My breath caught. For a split second, something primal flickered in my eyes, hunger, recognition, respect.

A woman hungry for power.

Well, she turned out to be a woman of my league… my type.

I let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer until I could smell her perfume. This woman was different. All my life, I'd been surrounded by women who bent to my will, eager to please, easy conquests like Sofia and Isabella.

But Aarika?

She was a challenge, composed and hard to get, pushing back without flinching. It ignited something fierce in me, an attraction stronger than I'd felt in years. I wanted to unravel her, to see what made her tick, to claim that power she wielded so effortlessly.

"Careful, Ms. Singh." My voice was a whisper now, rough and dangerous. "Power is addictive. Once you taste it, you'll do anything to keep it."

"That's exactly what pulled me here from India." She answered so calmly, so casually as if discussing whether.

I smiled slowly, dangerously. "India to Italy for power." I straightened up, buttoning my jacket again, like I was arming myself. "You know what they say about Italy, Ms. Singh?" I asked but she was quiet. No response from her made me continue. "It's the home of the Mafia."

"I've heard."

Again she gave a short and damn fucking intriguing answer.

My eyes darkened with something, appreciation? Warning? I turned to face her fully, trapping her against the balcony railing with my arms caging her in.

She didn't flinch, she didn't move and for fuck’s sake she didn't even blink. Instead, she was looking at me calmly, waiting for my next words.

"And yet you came anyway." I tilted my head, studying her like she was the most fascinating creature I'd ever laid eyes on. "Did you know who you were walking into, Ms. Singh?"

She didn't back down, her voice steady with that same confidence. "I never step forward without calculating the consequences."

My smile widened, genuine and almost predatory. "A smart woman." I paused, my gaze intent. "You know what I think? I think you're not just here for power. You're here to take it." My voice was barely above a whisper, my eyes searching hers.

She smirked, throwing the compliment back. "Smart man."

I threw my head back and laughed, a rich, dangerous sound that echoed across the balcony. For the first time, a woman has genuinely amused me.

When I looked back at her, there was something new in my eyes, admiration, maybe? Desire? "You're going to fit perfectly here, Ms. Singh." I stepped back, extending my hand toward her.

"That's why I'm here, Mr. Moretti." She replied while shaking hands with me.

"Then let me make something clear." I leaned in after leaving her hand, my face inches from hers, my cologne intoxicating even to me in this charged air. "There's only one lion in this forest. And I don't take kindly to challengers." My hand cupped her chin, firm but not rough. "But I do appreciate a woman who isn't afraid to look it in the fucking eyes."

She didn't pull away, didn't speak, just held my gaze silently, her expression as composed as ever. That restraint only fueled my attraction, making me crave her more.

My thumb brushed her bottom lip, tracing where her gloss had worn away. "Tell me something honest, Ms. Singh." My voice was low, dangerous. "Are you looking to make friends in Italy? Or are you looking to make enemies?" My eyes dropped to her mouth briefly before snapping back up.

"No enemies, no friends."

I smiled slowly, dangerously. "Smart answer." I dropped my hand from her chin, stepping back slightly. "You know what they say about neutral parties in Italy?" I paused, waiting for her response. When she didn't answer, I continued. "They get eaten alive."

"A lone wolf survives sometimes. Perfect example: Arya and Sansa Stark."

I let out a genuine laugh this time, full and rich. "A Game of Thrones reference." My eyes lit up with amusement. "You're either the most dangerous or the most foolish woman I've ever met." I loosened my tie slightly, a rare glimpse of relaxation. "And I can't decide which one I like more."

She smirked, and her phone chimed at the same time before she could say anything. She looked at it. "My ride is here. If you'll excuse me." And she walked away.

I watched her walk away, my mind reeling. That smirk, the way she handled herself, the way she looked in those heels. The way her hips are swaying. She wasn't like the others, not bending, not yielding.

For the first time, a woman was making me chase, and I fucking loved it.

The attraction hit hard, a pull toward her power, her defiance. I pulled out my phone, dialing my right-hand man. "Lucio," I said when the line picked up. "Find out everything about Aarika Singh."

"Everything," I repeated. "Her family, her business, her relationships. And find out who the hell is picking her up tonight." I hung up, my gaze fixed on the spot where she'd disappeared. I had a feeling that tonight was just the beginning of a very interesting game.