Bound by Desire

"Where are you going?" Alessandro's voice sliced through the silence of the hallway.

His eyes landed on a maid struggling with a tray of food. Her hands trembled, the clink of cutlery betraying her nerves. She froze, eyes wide.

"T-To Mr. Rossi's room, sir."

Her voice was barely a whisper. Alessandro started toward her, each step measured and slow. The polished wood beneath his feet echoed with authority. Tension clung to the air like smoke—an ever-present veil in the De Luca mansion.

He exhaled through his nose, calm but heavy. Without a word, he took the tray from her hands.

"Sir..." she murmured, confused and clearly afraid.

"I'll handle this," he said, voice clipped.

She stood frozen for a second too long, then bowed quickly and disappeared.

Alessandro didn’t knock. He opened the door and walked in.

Marco sat upright on the bed. He was pale, the sheen of sweat on his brow telling of the fever that still lingered. Yet his spine remained straight, his stare bold. The blankets were messily tangled around his waist.

When he saw Alessandro, his face twisted into a scowl. "You again? What is it this time? If you're so obsessed with me, why not just kill me already? Get it over with."

Alessandro set the tray down on the bedside table, moving with that cold, collected calm that made everything feel heavier. His eyes, ice-cold and unreadable, locked on Marco.

"Bad manners first thing in the morning? Tsk."

"And it’s bad manners to hold someone prisoner," Marco snapped.

Alessandro studied him. How did Marco manage to stay so defiant? Where did that fire come from?

"I’m not staying here," Marco said sharply. "I have a life. School. My own responsibilities. I’m not part of your mafia war. Holding me won’t make my father cave. He doesn’t care. None of them gives a fuck about me."

"Mmm. Then maybe I’ll care for you instead," Alessandro said, voice laced with dry sarcasm.

"Fuck off!" Marco murmured.

He stepped closer, hand flashing forward to grip Marco’s throat—not hard enough to choke, just enough to assert.

Marco didn’t even blink. He held Alessandro’s gaze.

"If you’re begging to be killed," Alessandro said, voice low and tight, "you’ll be disappointed. I decide when you die."

He let go.

"Eat. You look like a corpse."

He picked up the fork from the tray and held it out.

Marco just stared. "No."

Alessandro’s jaw flexed.

"If you don’t eat, you can’t take your meds. And if you don’t..." His voice dropped to a dark whisper. "I’ll feed you myself."

Marco’s eyes narrowed. "I'd love to see you try."

"You think I won’t? You’re not in control here."

"You’re not shoving food down my throat like I’m some dog. I’m not your toy."

The air thickened. Alessandro didn’t flinch. He picked up a sausage from the plate, moved closer. The space between them shrank to inches.

"I’ll show you who’s in control," he said, lips curling.

"Open your mouth."

His tone wasn’t a request.

Marco turned his head away. "Get lost."

Alessandro didn’t speak. He bit down on one end of the sausage and leaned in.

"What the—"

Too late.

He grabbed Marco’s jaw and kissed him. The sausage passed between them, hot and unexpected. Marco gasped, eyes wide, but Alessandro didn’t back off. Their mouths collided, rough and charged. Alessandro’s hand slid to Marco’s neck, thumb brushing his pulse.

He didn’t mean to kiss him. Not really. Not like this.

But he couldn’t stop.

His tongue slid deeper, tasting salt, heat, and something more addictive than anything he'd ever known. Last night’s pain—the agony he’d suffered alone—faded. His body still ached from the bond, but now... now it buzzed with raw hunger.

He wanted Marco.

His fingers slid from Marco’s neck to his waist. Just when he thought Marco was softening, Marco shoved him back.

"Ahh!" Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes blazing.

"You’re a beast. Are you fucking insane?!"

Alessandro stepped back, chest rising and falling fast. He licked the taste from his bottom lip, still breathing hard.

For a second, silence.

"You talk too much," he muttered.

Marco barked a bitter laugh. "And you’re nuts. What the hell was that?"

Alessandro’s gaze darkened. "That was a reminder. I’m in control."

It was a lie. He said it to hide the fire burning inside him.

Marco shoved the blankets aside and stood. "That? You call that control? You can’t even control yourself."

Alessandro’s fists clenched.

"Careful."

"Or what?" Marco spat. "You’ll kiss me again? Force food in my mouth and say it’s about power?"

The words struck deeper than they should’ve. Alessandro faltered—just for a moment—but covered it with a dangerous smile.

"You think I care how you feel? I can do whatever I want with you. I can make you into anything I want—including being my slut."

Marco’s jaw tensed. "Maybe you should care. You’re messed up."

He was still breathing hard, lips still tingling with the memory of that kiss. It made him furious.

"Or maybe you’re angry because you care."

Silence crashed over the room.

Alessandro’s hands twitched at his sides. He took another step closer. This time, Marco didn’t move.

Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them.

Marco’s voice dropped. "You don’t know what you want, do you?"

Alessandro’s lips parted. Nothing came out. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He wanted to lash out, to threaten, to take control again. But he couldn’t.

Marco was right.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

And that terrified him.

"You..." Alessandro began through clenched teeth—but the words died on his tongue.

Because Marco had peeled back something raw. Something real.

And Alessandro wasn’t ready to face it,

And that terrified him more than anything else.