Chapter 6

POV: Alisha

The massive iron gates of Cristiano’s estate clicked shut behind us, locking out the noise, the threats, and the cold morning air.

I sat frozen in the leather seat of his sports car as we drove up the long, winding driveway. High stone walls surrounded the estate, lined with tall trees that blocked out the city. At the top of the hill stood his home, a towering mansion of dark stone, gray slate, and glass.

It was breathtaking, but it was terrifying. It felt like a fortress built for someone far beyond my reach.

Cristiano cut the engine under the wide front porch. Before the quiet could settle between us, he was already out of the car. He opened my door, leaned inside, and slid his large, warm hands around my waist.

"Cristiano, please, I can walk," I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked up at the vast entrance.

"You're not walking," he said, his voice dropping into a low, possessive murmur.

He slid one strong arm beneath my thighs and lifted my full, curvy frame against his broad chest in one smooth motion. With his other hand, he grabbed my duffel bag from the back seat and pushed the car door shut with his hip.

He carried me up the wide stone stairs. With a light touch of his security fob, the heavy double doors swung open, and he stepped inside, sealing the world behind us.

The foyer was enormous. Black marble floors stretched out like dark water beneath high ceilings and glowing chandeliers. Everything was pristine, luxurious, and cold.

I buried my face in the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of cedarwood, rain, and the clean warmth of his skin. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it against his ribs.

Cristiano bypassed the main staircases and carried me straight into his private elevator. He tapped his keycard, and the doors glided shut.

"Cristiano, put me down," I whispered softly as the elevator rose. "What if your house staff sees us like this?"

"My staff knows who runs this house," he murmured, looking down at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "And nobody comes up to this floor. This space belongs only to us."

The elevator opened directly into a massive master bedroom suite.

The room was warm and quiet, lined with rich hardwood floors, a stone fireplace, and a massive glass wall overlooking the valley. In the center sat an enormous California king bed layered with charcoal-gray silk and plush pillows.

Cristiano carried me straight to the bed, lowering me down onto the edge of the mattress with an aching, gentle care that made my throat tighten. He set my duffel bag on the floor, shrugged out of his dark leather jacket, and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

He kicked off his boots and stepped between my parted knees, looking down at me with raw hunger.

"Welcome home, Alisha," he whispered, his voice shaking with thick emotion.

I looked down at the emerald-green dress hugging my thighs, the fabric pooling against the silk sheets. The sheer wealth of the room pressed heavily against my chest.

"Cristiano... this place is overwhelming," I admitted, my fingers knotting tightly in my lap. "I lived in a tiny flat. I work a normal desk job. Look at this house. Look at you. I don't fit here. I am a curvy, everyday woman stepping into a superstar's world. Your mother, the board, the reporters... they are going to look at me and say I have no right to be here."

Cristiano dropped to his knees on the dark hardwood right in front of me, bringing himself level with my gaze.

He reached out and covered my trembling hands with his large, warm palms, his thumbs smoothing gently over my knuckles to still their shaking.

"Look at me, Alisha," he commanded softly, refusing to let me turn away. "This house was an empty shell before today. It was just a place I came to sleep after matches. You don't need to change yourself to fit this world. This world is going to bend to fit you. You are the only woman who belongs in this room. You are the queen of this house, and you are the only one I want beside me."

The absolute sincerity in his dark eyes melted the tight knot of fear in my chest. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I looked at the man the whole world worshiped, kneeling on the floor just to reassure me.

"I'm scared, Cristiano," I whispered, letting all my vulnerability spill between us. "What if I'm not strong enough? What if they try to tear us apart?"

"No one is tearing us apart," he swore, his voice fierce and steady. "I don't care about the board. I don't care about the cameras. The only thing I care about is keeping you safe and holding you in my arms every single night."

He rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. He wrapped both of his arms around my waist, drawing my soft, curvy body flush against his hard chest.

The warmth of his body soaked through my dress, banishing the cold room air. I rested my cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid, heavy beat of his heart.

Cristiano lifted my chin with the crook of his finger. The hard, angry edge he showed the world was completely gone, replaced by pure, raw tenderness.

"Let me take care of you, Alisha," he breathed against my lips. "Just let me love you."

Then, his mouth came down over mine.

The kiss was slow, deep, and breathtakingly tender. He didn't rush. He kissed me like I was fragile, like I was the only thing on earth that mattered. His large hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my dark curls, while his other arm locked around my lower back, holding me tight against his heat.

A soft sigh escaped my lips, my hands rising to grip his shoulders.

He groaned low in his throat, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing my lips before sliding inside to claim my mouth with a desperate, possessive warmth that made my knees buckle. He held my weight easily, his body anchoring mine.

Cristiano guided us backward until the backs of my legs brushed the silk sheets.

We sank onto the mattress together. He hovered over me, resting his weight on his forearms so he wouldn't crush me, his dark eyes glowing with pure affection as he looked down at my flushed face.

"You're safe here, my love," he murmured, kissing my forehead, each of my eyelids, and the warm curve of my throat. "No one will ever take you from me."

My hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the hot, solid muscle of his back. Every lingering doubt about my body, every fear of being inadequate, washed away under the heat of his touch. In this bed, wrapped in his arms, I felt cherished.

Cristiano kissed me again, deeper and hungrier, his warm palm sliding down the curve of my hip and resting on the bare skin of my upper thigh.

The heat between us flared instantly, our breaths mingling in the quiet room as the world outside faded away.

Then, the peace was shattered.

A violent, thunderous pounding echoed from the main entrance downstairs.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The heavy metal knocker slammed against the front oak doors with enough force to shake the entire mansion.

Cristiano froze instantly, his chest heaving against mine, his dark eyes snapping open in lethal fury.