Emily
The night has fallen long ago when I leave the club. The air is heavy, laden with humidity and the scent of freshly fallen rain. My heels click on the cobblestones as I make my way to my car, still shaken by what just happened with Victorio.
My lips are still sensitive, burning from his kiss. Every shiver, every heartbeat resonates in my chest like an alarm. He is playing with me. But worst of all, I am responding to this game.
I start the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The low music resonates in the cabin, but it doesn't drown out the turmoil of my thoughts.
Victorio Moretti is not a man you survive. He is the kind of poison that seeps into your veins and destroys you from the inside. And yet, I just gave in to him.
I run the red lights without really seeing them, my jaw clenched. It's just a mission, I keep telling myself. Just a mission.
But deep down, I know that's a lie.
—
I finally arrive at the hotel, the sound of my heels echoing on the polished marble of the lobby. The receptionist nods at me, but I only give him a brief glance before heading to the elevator.
When the doors close, I lean against the wall, my breath short. I close my eyes, and Victorio's face immediately appears. His predatory smile, his dark gaze, the taste of his mouth on mine…
I reopen my eyes, my heart racing.
— Damn, I whisper.
The doors open onto the deserted hallway of my floor. I step out of the elevator, retrieve the key from my bag, and enter my room.
The darkness envelops me immediately. I throw my bag onto the chair near the window and take off my heels. The cold carpet under my feet makes me shiver.
I turn on the bedside lamp, and it is at that moment that I feel it.
A presence.
I freeze, muscles tense. My gaze sweeps the room, but everything seems in order. Yet, my instinct screams otherwise.
— Nice room.
I jump, turning towards the shadow that cuts near the window.
Victorio.
He is there, leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his black pants. He stares at me with that lazy smile that drives me crazy.
— How did you get in?
— You should lock the door better.
My heart pounds against my chest.
— What are you doing here?
He slowly approaches, his dark gaze fixed on mine.
— You think you can kiss me like that and leave me behind?
I step back, but he continues to advance.
— It was just a mistake, I say in a voice I try to make cold.
His smile widens.
— Then why are you trembling?
He is now so close that I feel the heat of his body radiating against mine. I step back again until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
— What do you want, Victorio?
He leans towards me, his hands capturing my hips.
— The truth?
I nod, breathless.
— I want to possess you.
His voice is rough, threatening, yet strangely soft.
— Do you think I will let you do that?
— You don't push me away.
His lips brush my cheek, trailing down my jaw. I close my eyes despite myself, unable to fight against the shiver that runs through me.
— This fire between us, Emily… it's real.
My hand comes to rest on his chest, but I don't push him away. I feel his heart beating, strong and fast, under my fingers.
— It's dangerous, I whisper.
— Everything worth it is.
His lips find mine, first gently, then with more force. His tongue glides against mine, awakening that uncontrollable desire that has burned within me since our first contact.
I give in. Again.
I let him push me onto the bed, his weight pressing against my body. His hands glide up my thighs, lifting my dress.
— You are mine, Emily, he murmurs against my mouth.
I tilt my head back, eyes half-closed.
— Not yet.
He laughs, a deep and sensual sound that makes me shiver.
— We'll see about that.
He gently bites my lip, and this time, I do not resist.
—
I wake up suddenly a few hours later. The room is immersed in darkness, but the warm weight against my back immediately reminds me where I am.
Victorio is lying behind me, his arm wrapped around my waist.
I remain still, breathless.
— Are you planning to run away? he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep.
— Maybe.
His hand glides over my hip, his warm breath brushing my neck.
— Not tonight.
I close my eyes. I'm screwed. Completely.
—
The next morning, I sit on the balcony, a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. The rising sun illuminates the streets of the city in a golden hue.
Victorio is still in bed, asleep. I watched him for a long time before stepping outside to get some air.
I should leave. Now. I should call Alex, end this mission before it spirals out of control.
But I don't want to.
Victorio is a drug. A poison. And I am already sinking.
I feel a hand slide over my shoulder.
— You're thinking too much.
His voice is still rough from sleep. I look up at him. He stands behind me, bare-chested, his black suit pants hanging on his hips.
— Maybe.
He crouches beside me, his hand resting on my bare thigh.
— Then stop thinking.
He kisses me again, gently this time. But I still feel that underlying fever, that fire he ignites in me with every touch.
When he pulls away, he looks at me with a dark smile.
— I told you that you'd end up begging.
I smile slowly.
— We'll see who begs whom.
He laughs, and I realize that's exactly what he wanted to hear.
Victorio Moretti is ensnaring me.
And the worst part is that I'm letting him.