Chapter 1

POV: Alisha

Cristiano stood inside my living room, looking at me like he wanted to swallow me whole.

He was soaked from head to toe. Water ran down the sharp line of his jaw and dripped from his black hair onto my floor. His wet designer shirt was stuck to his broad chest, outlining every single hard muscle beneath the fabric. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down like a man who had run miles through the dark.

His dark eyes were locked on mine. There was no apology in his face. No hesitation. Only a raw, desperate fire that made my breath stick in my throat.

I pulled my silk robe tight over my chest, my heart beating fast against my ribs.

He was my landlord. He owned this entire luxury high-rise tower. He had an emergency master key to every unit, but I had never imagined he would use it to walk into my apartment at midnight.

He was also my best friend’s older brother.

And for three long, agonizing years, he was the only man I had secretly loved in silence.

"Cristiano?" My voice broke the heavy quiet between us. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't speak right away. He reached behind him, turned the lock on the door with a wet hand, and stepped deeper into my space. Puddles pooled under his boots, but he never blinked. The heat rolling off his body filled the room, making my bare skin prickle with goosebumps.

"I had to see you, Alisha," he said. His voice was deep, rough, and strained with pure anger. "I had nowhere else to go."

"It's midnight," I whispered, holding my ground before taking a slow step back toward the rug. "Your sister told me you had a big dinner with your family tonight. You're supposed to be at your estate."

Cristiano let out a harsh, bitter laugh. He closed the distance between us with long, heavy strides.

"My mother landed from the village three hours ago," he said, the veins in his neck tightening with fury. "She didn't come alone. She brought Catalina with her."

A cold weight dropped straight into my stomach. I knew that name. Catalina was the traditional, quiet village girl his mother had been trying to push on him for two years.

"Your mother wants you to settle down," I said softly. "Isn't that why you went to see them?"

"She brought a signed marriage contract, Alisha." Cristiano stopped two feet away from me. The heat from his soaked frame hit me like a wave. "She brought two village elders, a family ring, and three lawyers. She told me if I don't sign tonight and make Catalina my wife, she will go to the media, brand me an ungrateful son, and tear down my entire career."

I looked into his dark, furious eyes. "Your mother wouldn't go that far..."

"She would," he said, his jaw tightening hard. "She doesn't care about my career. She cares about control. She expects me to marry a woman I have zero feelings for. She expects me to start a family with Catalina to protect the family name."

Those words felt like a sharp sting in my chest. The thought of Cristiano touching another woman, giving another woman his child, made my stomach knot with quiet jealousy. I tightened the silk belt around my waist, my fingers digging into the fabric.

"Then go back and fight your mother," I whispered, looking up at him. "Why bring that mess to my apartment?"

"Because I walked out," he said, stepping closer until his wet chest brushed against the silk of my robe. "I told my mother no. I left Catalina crying in the hallway, got in my car, and drove straight to you."

"Why me, Cristiano?" My voice cracked with raw emotion. "I’m your tenant. I'm your sister's best friend. That is all I am to you."

"You really think that's all you are to me?"

He took another step. The tiny gap between us disappeared completely. The scent of rain, cedarwood cologne, and raw male heat filled my senses, making my head spin.

"I know what I am," I said, my heart aching as I looked up into his intense face. "I'm a woman with wide hips, thick thighs, and a soft body. I don't look like the runway models and skinny socialites you take to parties. I don't belong in your world, and I definitely don't belong in your family war."

Cristiano’s eyes turned pitch-black with hunger.

Slowly, deliberately, his gaze moved down my body. He stared at the dip of my collarbone, the heavy swell of my breasts inside the silk, and the full, deep curve of my hips.

It was not a polite glance. It was hungry, possessive, and completely unfiltered.

"You think I care about those skinny, fake women?" His voice dropped an octave, rough and thick with need. "They mean nothing to me. I have spent three years watching you, Alisha. Three years watching your gorgeous hips sway through my lobby. Three years watching you laugh with my sister, driving myself insane every time you walked past me."

My breath caught in my throat. "Cristiano, please... don't say that."

"I stayed away because I respected my sister," he went on, lifting a large, calloused hand to gently touch the bare skin of my shoulder. A jolt of pure fire rushed down my spine, making my knees go weak. "I told myself you deserved a peaceful life, not the circus that follows me. But tonight, when my mother tried to force this marriage on me, I knew I was done lying to myself."

I looked at him, my heart aching with worry. "What happened with Catalina?"

"A few weeks ago, my mother pressured me into being alone with Catalina in the village," Cristiano said, raw regret tightening his features. "I made one terrible mistake because I wanted the argument to end. There was no love in it. No connection. And I hated myself for giving my mother that victory. I felt disgusted with myself because the only woman I saw when I closed my eyes was you."

"Cristiano..."

"I want a woman who is real," he whispered, his hand sliding up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting right over my racing pulse. "I want your softness. I want your curves. I want your fire."

He stepped forward with steady force, backing me up until the small of my back touched the living room wall.

Cristiano didn't give me an inch of space. He braced his large, muscular forearm against the wall next to my head, trapping me beneath his tall body.

He had spent three years hiding these feelings from me. For three years, he had acted like I was just a tenant, just his little sister’s friend. Now he was standing in my home, dripping wet, breathing his heat against my skin.

My heart twisted with a mix of longing and fear. I had loved this man for three agonizing years, but the thought of being pulled into his dangerous world terrified me.

"Cristiano, you can't just come in here like this," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion as my hands rested lightly against his soaked chest. "You're only doing this because you're running from your mother."

"I’m not running, Alisha," he whispered, his voice shaking with absolute conviction as he leaned down until his hot, ragged breath brushed directly against my lips. "I am choosing you. I need you by my side. I need you to carry my baby, Alisha. Help me break this trap."

My breath hitched, the entire world stopping around me. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Cristiano murmured, his other hand gripping my hip with firm pressure, pulling my curvy body flush against his hard frame. "Have my child. Be my woman. And I swear on my life, no other woman will ever touch me again."