"I—I can't," Kyan whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.
But Nico didn't let go. He lifted himself just slightly from the bed, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, lips parted in that maddening, dangerous smirk.
"You already did half the work," Nico murmured, his gaze trailing slowly down Kyan's form. "Carrying me up here like that... you sure you're not dying to know what happens next?"
Kyan swallowed hard, cheeks burning. He tried again to pull his hand away, but Nico tugged him closer—slowly, until their knees touched and Kyan was standing between his legs.
"Still gonna run?" Nico asked, voice low and silky as sin. His free hand lifted lazily, fingers brushing along Kyan's waist, just grazing the edge of his apron.
Kyan shivered.
His lips parted to answer, but no words came. The room felt hot and quiet. Like time itself was holding its breath.
Nico leaned in—just enough for Kyan to feel his breath on his neck.
"Softie," he whispered, his tone suddenly softer, rougher. "Do you have any idea how dangerous you look right now?"
"I'm the servant," Kyan muttered, his voice shaking.
"And I'm the one craving you," Nico said, eyes dark and half-lidded. "That's a dangerous mix."
His hand slid up Kyan's back, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. Kyan gasped, his whole body tense—but he didn't move away.
He couldn't.
"You're not even drunk, are you?" Kyan breathed, realization hitting like a lightning strike.
Nico chuckled low, and it rumbled through Kyan's chest like thunder.
"I had enough to be bold. Not enough to forget."
His forehead rested against Kyan's for a second, their noses brushing, breaths mingling. It was quiet. Still. Electric.
"I won't ask again," Nico murmured. "Strip for me... or I'll do it myself."
Kyan's hands trembled as they moved up to his shirt buttons, his breath uneven, every second dripping in heat and tension.
And Nico?
He leaned back, watching him like he was art.
Like he was his.
Kyan landed on the bed with a soft thud, his breath hitching as his bare back touched the cool sheets.
Nico towered over him, one knee pressing into the mattress, his gaze burning with a hunger that felt almost unbearable.
Kyan whispered, "Master…"
But that only made Nico lean in closer, his hand braced beside Kyan's head, their faces a breath apart.
"All I want from you now…" Nico murmured, voice deep, almost guttural, "is to call me Daddy."
Kyan's heart skipped—then thundered.
Before he could even form a reply, Nico dipped his head and pressed a kiss to his neck. Slow. Possessive. His lips moved along the sensitive skin just below Kyan's jaw, dragging heat in their wake.
Kyan gasped, a soft, helpless sound escaping him as his fingers clenched the sheets.
Nico's voice was lower now, a whisper pressed to his skin.
"Say it," he coaxed, another kiss between each word. "Say it like you mean it, Softie…"
Kyan's lips quivered, his voice catching in his throat.
"N-Nico—"
Nico's teeth grazed the side of his neck, just enough to make Kyan flinch.
"Not Nico."
Kyan swallowed hard, his face flushed all the way to his ears. His hands gripped the sheets tighter.
"…D-Daddy…"
Nico froze for a beat—then smiled.
Dark. Satisfied.
"Good boy."
************
Meanwhile, up in Room 105…
Raven paced in nothing but her towel. She checked the time again.
"Over an hour?" she hissed, eyes darting to the door.
"Where the hell is he?!"
She marched over to the edge of the bed and sat, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot with impatience.
"This softie better not have messed this up…" she muttered under her breath, then growled, "No. No way. He couldn't be that stupid."
Raven huffed and yanked her towel off, tossing it aside as she slipped into her short black dress, the one that hugged every curve just right.
She didn't bother with a bra. No need. Tonight was supposed to go her way.
"This is bullshit," she muttered, slipping into her heels, one leg at a time. She grabbed her clutch, fixed her hair in the mirror with two annoyed swipes, then headed for the door.
If that softie had messed up the only perfect plan she had, she swore she'd scratch his pretty little face. But no—no way Nico could resist that dose. She had poured enough in that drink to get a man begging.
"I'm dragging him myself if I have to," she hissed to herself as she strutted down the hallway. "He won't be able to push me away once that drug kicks in fully. Not this time."
As Raven stepped into the main hall, the chatter dimmed just a little.
"Wait… is that her?" someone whispered.
"Raven Solis? The Latino heiress?" another murmured.
Heads turned. Eyes followed her every strut.
Her dress shimmered under the lights, hugging her like it was sewn on skin. Her lips curled—not from nerves, no. She loved this.
"Damn, she's even hotter in real life."
"She's the one they say is gonna marry Nico Luciano, right?"
"Oh, I heard she's worth more than half the men in this room."
Every word was music to her ears. Her steps slowed just a little. Chin up. Hip sway. She could eat up all this attention.
For a second, she almost forgot why she came downstairs in the first place. Almost.
Until a voice in her head whispered: You're not doing this for fun, princess. You're doing this 'cause Daddy said to.
Her smile faltered for half a second.
Then she rolled her shoulders back and flipped her hair. "Focus," she muttered under her breath. "Where the hell is he?"
The music softened. All eyes turned as Don Roco rose from his seat, lifting his wine glass with the kind of smug confidence that always meant something was about to go down.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed across the hall, "tonight, we crown a new era. And I present to you…" —he paused with a wicked smirk— "…the King of the Mafia… Nicolas Luciano!"
Thunderous applause erupted. Glasses clinked. Women fixed their hair. Men adjusted their jackets.
But the grand doors?
They stayed shut.
No footsteps.
No dramatic entrance.
No Nico.
Don Roco's smile stiffened.
"Where the hell is he?" someone whispered.
Meanwhile…
Nicolas Luciano?
The future King of the Mafia?
Yeah—he was somewhere else.
Somewhere dark.
Shirtless.
Drunk.
Belt half-undone.
Fingers tangled in silk sheets.
And just as Kyan whispered, "Daddy , you need to rest,"
Nico grinned and growled,
"Don't tell your king what to do."