Dangerous Desires (Erotica Collections)

The night air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt as I hurried down the dimly lit alley behind my apartment building. My heels clicked against the uneven pavement, echoing like a warning I couldn't quite hear over the pounding of my heart. I'd just finished a late shift at the diner, my uniform clinging to my skin from the humid evening, and all I wanted was a hot shower and my lumpy mattress. But fate, or whatever cruel joke the universe was playing, had other plans.

A black SUV screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley, blocking my path. Before I could scream, rough hands grabbed me from behind, a cloth pressed over my mouth that reeked of chemicals. My vision blurred, limbs going heavy, and the world faded into darkness. When I came to, I was in the back of a moving vehicle, wrists bound with zip ties, a blindfold over my eyes. Panic surged through me like ice water.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, my voice hoarse, twisting against the restraints. No answer, just the low hum of the engine and the occasional murmur in Italian from the front seat. My mind raced-kidnapping? For ransom? My family wasn't rich; Dad had died years ago, Mom barely scraping by. This had to be a mistake.

Hours later-or was it minutes? Time lost meaning-the car stopped. Strong arms hauled me out, carrying me like a sack of flour up stone steps. A door slammed, and the blindfold was ripped off. I blinked against the opulent surroundings: marble floors, crystal chandeliers, walls lined with dark wood panels. A mansion. Definitely not a ransom hideout.

"Welcome home, principessa," a deep voice rumbled from the shadows. He stepped into the light, and my breath caught. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features carved from granite-jet-black hair slicked back, a scar tracing his jawline. His suit hugged his muscular frame like it was tailored by sin itself. Eyes like polished obsidian locked onto mine, unblinking, predatory.

"Who the hell are you? Let me go!" I spat, struggling as two goons held me upright.

He smirked, circling me slowly, his gaze raking over my body. "I'm Lorenzo Moretti. And you're Isabella Rossi, aren't you?" My blood ran cold. How did he know my name? "Your father owed me a debt. A big one. And since he's gone... you pay it."

"Debt? What debt? I don't know anything about-"

His hand shot out, fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. His touch was electric, rough, sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "Don't play dumb, Isabella. Your old man borrowed from the family. Lost it all on bad bets. Now, you're mine. Collateral."

I jerked away, but he held firm. "I'm not a thing to be owned! You can't just-"

"Oh, I can," he interrupted, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me. "And I will. You'll marry me. Bind yourself to the Moretti name. It's the