His hips lunged into a frenzy, fucking me raw, like we were seconds from death. I welcomed the soreness, the stretching, the ungodly friction. I basked in his brutal lovemaking and fell into his unwavering stare.

“Oh fuck, Magnus.” Garbled noises tore from me as I convulsed around him, coming, coming, coming. “Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop.”

He pounded harder, chasing his release and finding it moments later with a guttural roar. Hoarse grunts filled the air as he filled my body with warm liquid.

I held him close, savoring the erratic thrusts that brought him to a slumberous, unmoving heap of muscle atop me. We melted together, legs entwined, hearts knocking. Two boneless, well-used bodies.

He was fucking heavy.

And snoring.

“Magnus?” Trapped, I shoved at his concrete chest. “Hey, asshole.”

“Shhh.” With a sleepy groan, he rolled to his back, taking me with him and keeping us joined. “Don’t move. I’m going to sleep inside you.”

Sure you are.

Apparently, he was drunker than I’d thought, the sound of his breaths already sliding into a deep sleep. I lay across his torso, saturated in his delicious heat, and waited for his softening cock to slip out.

His come bathed my thighs with stickiness, a sensation I welcomed. I intended to sleep with him smeared all over my skin, but there was something I needed to do first.

Quietly, carefully, I slid out of bed, crept into the bathroom, and called my sister.

“Tinsley?” She sounded groggy. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry to wake you. I need your help.” I pulled in a slow breath. “I need to arrange a dinner meeting with Lucian Morelli.”

Chapter Four

Magnus

Four days had passed since the poisoned wine had been delivered to my wife. No more attempts had been made on her life, but I’d eliminated every opportunity.

I kept her under lock and key in the penthouse. We didn’t leave. I didn’t allow visitors. Her food underwent thorough testing, and I conducted all investigations from my laptop and phone.

Not even my most trusted employees were permitted near her. Short of burning down the whole damn hotel, no one could touch a hair on her precious head.

Meanwhile, dozens of people worked day and night to help me hunt down the threat. Galen had followed Eliza Bancroft home after the party, and there he remained, running surveillance from the shadows of her building.

I hired private detectives to trail every potential Constantine enemy. And I planted spies among the Morelli household staff. They listened and observed and reported back.

Four days, and I had no promising leads.

It could’ve been anyone.

I shoved away from the desk and scanned the empty penthouse. Evening approached, dimming the city skyline, and I hadn’t seen Tinsley in hours. In fact, she’d been uncharacteristically quiet and obedient for days.