My Little Star

Nico sat in his car, parked just outside the penthouse, replaying every detail in his head. This was the endgame. Months of careful manipulation and planning had all led to this day. The cops had been tipped off about the weapons shipment Antonio's crew was moving tonight. Everything was lined up perfectly.

Nico took a slow breath, trying to settle the knot twisting in his stomach. Antonio wasn't the kind of man you walked away from alive--not unless you made damn sure he couldn't reach you afterward. If all went according to plan, by the end of the night, Antonio would be out of the picture for good.

But then, there was Luna.

She wasn't the reason Nico started down this road, but she had become the strongest reason to see it through. Every stolen glance and quiet exchange had worn down his defenses, making it that much easier to keep his promise to his grandfather and restore the Romano family's legacy.

He knew Luna was trapped, her brilliance and beauty wasting away in a marriage suffocating her spirit. It wasn't love. Hell, it wasn't even respect. Antonio treated her like a prize to display, another possession to share with his men. And Nico was done watching her wilt in that cage.

She didn't know about tonight. Nico had kept her out of it. He didn't want her anywhere near the fallout when the deal went down. It was dangerous. One wrong word from her, one wrong look, and Antonio would know. Nico only had one shot.

His phone buzzed, pulling him back to the present. It was a text from Javier, one of the few people Nico trusted in this game.

"Cops are in place. Deal goes down in four hours."

Four hours. That was all the time left before the world he knew came crashing down. He couldn't afford any mistakes now. He climbed out of the car, the cold weight of his gun pressing against his back where it was tucked into his waistband.

Inside, the penthouse was quiet, the heavy scent of espresso lingering in the air. Frank, Antonio's second-in-command, stood in the kitchen, pacing as he spoke into his phone. He was one of the few men Nico didn't outright despise. Maybe in a different world, they could've been allies. But that didn't matter. He was part of the machine Nico was about to dismantle.

"Everything okay?" Nico asked.

Frank glanced up, his brow furrowed. "Boss ain't happy with one of the crates for tonight. I got Georgio checking it out now."

Nico kept his expression neutral. The shipment had been clean when he'd inspected it himself, so this was probably just Antonio being Antonio--paranoid, controlling, always expecting betrayal. It made him dangerous.

"You think it's serious?" Nico asked.

Frank shrugged. "Better safe than dead, right?" He ended the call and grabbed a drink from the counter. "Georgio'll handle it. You heading to the docks later?"

"Yeah," Nico lied. He'd be anywhere but the docks when everything went to hell. "Just thought I'd check in first. Any issues I should know about?"

Frank's frown deepened as he took another drink, his gaze drifting toward the terrace. Nico followed his line of sight. Luna was outside, leaning over the glass railing, the breeze catching her hair. She was too close to the edge for Nico's comfort, and a little too still.

"She alright?" Nico asked.

Frank shrugged again, a vague gesture that said more than words. In Frank's world, shrugging meant he knew something, but it wasn't his place to talk. Still, after a moment's pause, he added, "There's been a lot of screaming lately."

"Screaming?" Nico asked.

"Fighting," Frank clarified, lowering his voice slightly. "Boss is losing patience with her. You know how he gets when people push him."

"Yeah."

Frank finished the bottle and set it down with a thud. "Anyway, you got a long night ahead of you. I'll catch you later."

Frank left the kitchen and Nico's gaze shifted back to Luna on the terrace. There was something wrong with this image. Then he saw it--the detail that made his heart drop into his stomach.

She was on the wrong side of the railing.

He rushed outside and then closed the distance to her quietly. he wrapped his arm around her waist and yanked her back over the railing. She gasped in shock, twisting in his grip, but he didn't let go until her feet hit the ground on the right side of the terrace.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped.

She stumbled back, her back hitting the wall, eyes wide. "I--"

"Save it." Nico cut her off, his jaw tight. "This how you handle shit now? Throwing yourself off a terrace?"

Luna straightened, defiance flashing in her eyes as she shoved her hair out of her face. The ugly black bruise that darkened her right cheek was unmistakable. Her bottom lip was split, a faint line of dried blood marking the edge. Looked like Antonio had done a hell of a lot more than just screaming.

"Why do you care?" she shot back.

"I don't," Nico lied smoothly, his expression cold. "I'm just disappointed you'd do something so stupid." He took a step closer, voice low and cutting. "Here's a hint--if you're serious about killing yourself, do it at night. Do it when no one's around to stop you." He pulled out his gun, holding it out toward her. "Make sure it's done right."

For a second, there was only silence. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, then flicked to his gun. To his surprise, she actually took a step forward, reaching for it.

Nico's anger flared, sharp and immediate. With a bitter chuckle, he yanked the gun back before she could touch it. The sound that escaped his lips was low and dark, devoid of humor.

"Porco Dio, Luna. You really are that far gone, huh?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze burning with defiance, but he caught the faint tremor in her hands. "I just want out," she said, almost daring him. "And you know there's no other way out for me."

"Why the hell now?" Nico's tone was harsh. He slipped the gun back into his waistband, keeping his eyes on her. "You've been silent for years. What changed?"

She stared at him like she knew the answer but wouldn't say it. Instead, her gaze flicked to his hand, and her voice dropped. "Where's your ring?"

Nico blinked. "What?"

"Thought you were getting married," she pressed, her eyes narrowing, challenging him.

"That's none of your business."

"And neither is this yours!" She stormed past him, heading back inside.

"Oh no," he muttered under his breath, moving to block her path. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her back toward him. "No fucking way."

"Let go!"

"So you can follow through on your death wish?" Nico's grip tightened, pulling her closer. "Not happening."

"I won't."

He clicked his tongue. "Too bad I don't trust you."

With no hesitation, he dragged her up the stairs, ignoring her resistance as she struggled against him. He didn't care.

When they reached the master bedroom, he didn't stop. He pushed her toward the bathroom, her protests echoing off the walls.

"Nico!"

He didn't answer. He shoved the door open, slamming it shut behind him with a bang.

He slammed her wrist against the pipe of the bathtub, and before she could react, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. The click of the cuffs as they locked around her wrist was final.

"Nico! What the hell are you doing?" she shouted, struggling to break free.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. "And you sure as hell aren't running off to paradise without me." He leaned in, his face inches from hers. "You get me?"

Luna's chest heaved with anger, but she was stuck. "Paradise?"

Nico smirked, his hand brushing a curl of her hair behind her ear. "What? You thought you were headed straight for hell? Not you, stellina."

She stilled under his touch. "I'm complicit in all of it, Nico. There's only hell for me."

His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing the soft curve of her cheek, the angry hue of the bruise Antonio had left on her. Nico's anger threatened to explode, but he forced it down.

"No." His voice was a harsh whisper. "You're not going to hell, stellina. You're what makes men do the things they go to hell for. But you?" His hand slid down to her neck, fingertips grazing the soft, exposed skin, his grip tightening around her throat. "You're pure. Heaven wrapped up in sin."

His touch wasn't gentle--he didn't need it to be. She didn't want it that way. She craved control, sure, but deep down, she was too far gone to think she could control anything in her life. Not her marriage, or her future.

So she took what little power she could get, even if it was borrowed from him. A temporary escape from the cage Antonio had put her in.

"Stop," she whispered, even as she leaned into him, her lips parting in silent invitation.

Stop.

Fuck. Her stops never felt like stops. They always felt like pleas. Her defiance was a drug, a rare glimpse of fight left in her, and it hooked him every time.

He closed the distance, his hand sliding down to the curve of her ass, gripping it hard. "Make me."

"What about your wife?" she said, even as a moan slipped from her lips. So needy.

"My wife takes what she wants."

Her eyes searched his, a flicker of disappointment flickering in her own, trying to make sense of him, of the cold finality in his words. He tightened his grip on her ass, pushing her closer, hoping she'd get it.

"You're just as bad as him," she murmured.

Like hell he was. Anger sparked, but it faded when she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him--not gently, but with a desperate hunger. Claiming him as hers.

He chuckled against her lips. "La mia piccola trasgressore."

He doubted she even understood, but her response was quick--she bit his lip, sharp and intentional, drawing blood. The metallic taste on his tongue made him lose control. He shoved his hand under her little white dress, right between her legs, pushing past the damp lace with ease. She was drenched, so fucking ready for him.

Her lips parted in a breathless moan, and he couldn't think. He buried his hand deeper, fucking her slick pussy with his fingers, his cock straining against his jeans.

She slipped her free hand around his back, fingers brushing the waistband of his jeans. For a split second, he thought she was just pulling him in further, her body grinding against his.

She broke the kiss, pulling back, her gaze defiant, wild.

His eyes dropped to the barrel of the gun now aimed directly at his chest. His pulse thudded, but it didn't shake him, not in the way she probably thought it would. If she thought that gun would tamper with his hunger, she was dead wrong.

"Undo them," she demanded, lifting her wrist. The handcuffs pulled tight against the pipe, reminding him just how far he was willing to push this.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Or what?"

She didn't back down. Her finger tightened on the trigger. "Or I'll shoot you."

He smirked, pulling the keys from his pocket and tossing them to the far end of the room. "Then what?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Get them."

He took a step closer instead, and she twisted, aiming the gun at the handcuffs instead. "Fine. Then I'll--"

The shot exploded, the deafening crack ringing in his ears. For a moment, he thought she might have shot her own arm off. Her eyes were wide, a mixture of shock and disbelief, as if she hadn't expected to actually pull the trigger.

But then he saw the water, jetting from the busted pipe, soaking her dress. Relief hit him, but it was brief. He grabbed her, ripping the gun from her grasp and tossing it aside. She was soft in his hold, still staring at the water as it spurted.

"Feel that, stellina?" He shoved his leg between hers, pressing close. "Feel how hard you make me?"

That seemed to shatter her trance. A soft, helpless moan escaped her lips as she shifted, rubbing her pussy against his thigh.

"You like that, huh?" His hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she pressed harder against him. Her breath hitched, and her fingers gripped the rim of the sink in front of her, knuckles turning white. "Want to cum on my leg, baby?"

A helpless, breathy moan slipped from her, her head falling back in surrender. That sound? Yeah, that was a fucking yes.

He slid his hand up her dress again, fingers hooking around the thin band of her panties. With a single fierce yank, he tore them away, the sound of ripping fabric lost beneath the steady spray of water from the pipe.

He lifted her slightly, making her weight bear down on his thigh, the friction sending a jolt through her body. She gasped, the rough texture of his jeans now teasing her bare pussy. He fisted a handful of her hair, tugging her head back so she had no choice but to look straight ahead into the mirror. "Go ahead, stellina. Ride me."

Her eyes fluttered shut, but he gave her hair another gentle tug, just enough to remind her to keep them open. "Look at yourself. Watch what you're doing to me."

With a quiet whimper, she began to move, rocking her hips slowly at first, rubbing herself against his thigh in slow strokes. He tightened his grip on her hair, pulling harder, making her arch against him.

"That's it, stellina. Don't stop. Take what you need. Use me."

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her reflection in the mirror--half-lidded eyes drowning in need, parted lips letting out those soft, desperate moans. Her cheeks were flushed deep with heat, but she didn't seem to see the bruise marring her face. No, she was too far gone, lost in the pleasure as she rocked against him harder, faster, chasing that high.

His jeans were soaked from her, the evidence of just how badly she wanted this. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, dark and hungry. "I fucking love the mess you're making all over me."

Her moans climbed higher, breaking into breathless gasps, her movements growing frantic. He knew she was close--so close--and he tightened his grip on her hips, holding her steady as she pushed herself to the edge.

Then she shattered.

Her body trembled violently, a shudder ripping through her as she collapsed over the sink, breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. He didn't give her a moment to recover. Stepping forward, he slid his thigh out from between hers and bent her over further.

His other hand slipped beneath her dress, fingers finding her soaked and swollen. He plunged two fingers inside her without hesitation, sinking deep, and groaned low in his throat as he felt her clench hard around him, her orgasm still gripping her tight.

"Fuck," he hissed, watching her reflection as she quivered beneath him, utterly wrecked.

She was still trembling, her body not yet finished coming down. He curled his fingers inside her, drinking in the way her breath hitched again. "I'm not done feeling this tight pussy cum yet."

She whimpered again at his words, and then said three little words of her own that almost broke him. "Fuck me, Nico."

Three simple, desperate words that shot through him like a bolt of lightning.

A groan tore from his throat, low and frustrated. He wanted to--God, he wanted to--but he already knew he couldn't. Time was slipping through his fingers, and he'd already stayed too long.

"Tu non sai quello che mi fai..." he muttered under his breath. You don't know what you do to me. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, as though that might steady the fire raging inside him.

"You listen to me, stellina," he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "I will fuck you. And often. But not now. I have to go."

"No..."

"Yes," he bit out. He dragged his fingers down her sides, his touch lingering before he pulled away completely. "You stay put, you hear me? Don't even think about leaving this house. And no more doing anything fucking stupid. Understand?"

She gave a shaky nod, her lips parting as if to protest again, but nothing came out.

"Good," he said, his voice softening just a fraction. "I'll be coming for you later."

But he could see it in her eyes... that disbelief she tried and failed to hide. She didn't think he meant it.

So he did something he couldn't remember the last time he did. Something he never gave freely.

"I promise." Then added, softer, "Te lo giuro." I swear it to you.

***

The plan was simple on paper. Get Antonio and his men to the docks. Make sure the police had enough evidence to arrest them for good--guns, drugs, money laundering, all of it. With Antonio out of the way, his organization would crumble, and the power vacuum would be too chaotic for anyone to come after Nico right away.

But simple plans rarely stayed that way when the bullets started flying.

Another text came in. This time from Antonio himself.

"We're at the docks. Where are you?"

Nico clenched his jaw, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment. Antonio rarely waited. He was the kind of man who demanded immediate answers, and delays made him paranoid.

Nico had ignored Antonio's last call, and now the old man was getting antsy. It shouldn't matter. If everything went according to plan, this would all be over in a few moments. Still, he sent a response, just to keep things steady.

"Stuck in traffic."

He hit send, watching the dots appear as Antonio typed a reply, then disappear again. No response came through. That wasn't good--it meant Antonio was thinking. And thinking made Antonio dangerous.

Nico's gaze flicked to Javier, who sat across from him in the dimly lit room, the muted glow of a single overhead bulb casting shadows across his face. The tense silence between them was both calming and unnerving.

His mind drifted, unbidden, back to Luna. He debated sending her a message, just to make sure she stayed put tonight. But no, that might only raise suspicion. If Antonio got wind of him contacting her at the wrong moment, it could blow everything apart.

They were holed up in one of the old Romano safe houses. Nico had grown up knowing every inch of them. That gave him the edge tonight, or so he hoped.

"You think he's suspicious already?" Javier muttered under his breath. He ran a hand over his face, then glanced toward the door.

"Antonio's always suspicious. But if he knew something, we wouldn't be sitting here talking."

Javier grunted, pacing the length of the small room, the floorboards creaking under his boots.

Nico pulled out his gun, checking the clip, his movements smooth and methodical. This was how he kept himself steady. Still, unease coiled in his gut.

Javier's phone buzzed. He read the message. "It's our contact," he said. "Deal's going through."

Nico exhaled slowly, a flicker of relief breaking through the tension. Finally. One step closer. But then Javier's brow furrowed as he kept reading.

"What?" Nico demanded.

Javier looked up, eyes sharp with unease. "Luna's with Antonio. At the docks."

Nico froze. "Che cazzo?"

"Yeah. Contact says she showed up with him. Doesn't know why."

"No," he spit out. "No fucking way." Luna had never been near any of Antonio's deals before. He kept her far from the dirt and blood, and Antonio respected that. Or he had--until now.

"Why the hell would he bring her?"

Javier shrugged, uneasy. "Could be leverage. Bait."

The cops were supposed to arrest Antonio's crew tonight. The evidence was airtight. But the side deal with their mole? That was the real endgame. Antonio wasn't supposed to walk out of this alive. Nico had been careful to stay out of it, far enough away to let the cops take their shot while he stayed free.

But now Luna was right in the middle of it. She'd be the first casualty.

"I'm heading down there."

Javier caught his arm. "You can't. You show up, you're done. You'll be in handcuffs before you can blink. Or worse."

Nico pulled his arm free with a sharp jerk. "I don't care."

"You should," Javier pressed. "There's nothing you can do for her now, Nico."

"She's not supposed to be there," Nico snapped. "She doesn't know what's coming. If I don't do something, she's gonna get caught in the crossfire."