Emily
The golden morning light filters through the curtains of the room, casting soft shadows on the unmade bed. My gaze drifts towards Victorio, still asleep beside me. His breathing is steady, his chest rising slowly under the dawning light.
He is perfect in his imperfection. A living sculpture of muscles and scars, of strength and danger. Yet, that is not what draws me in the most. It is the mask of calm that conceals the beast within him, the veil of control behind which a predator lurks.
A predator I have allowed into my bed.
I gently sit up, careful not to wake him. My body is still sore from the previous night—a delicious pain resonating in my muscles. I run a hand through my hair, breathless.
Damn.
I can't let this continue.
I leave the bed, grab Victorio's shirt lying at the foot of the bed, and slip it on before heading towards the balcony. The morning air is fresh, laden with the scent of salt and the distant noise of the city waking up.
A cigarette. I need a cigarette.
I rummage through my bag on the small table of the balcony, but before I have the chance to light the lighter, I hear a noise behind me.
— I thought you quit.
His voice is hoarse, still tinged with sleep. I slowly turn around. Victorio is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless, his black pants casually secured. His dark gaze is fixed on me.
— Bad habits are hard to break, I murmur.
He steps towards me, slowly, like a beast. His gaze is burning, his stride assured.
— There are other ways to relax, he breathes as he stands right in front of me.
His fingers brush my cheek, slide along my neck before stopping on the shirt I'm wearing.
— Nice shirt, he says with a smirk.
— I borrowed it.
His smile widens.
— Keep it.
He takes the cigarette from my fingers, brings it to his lips, and lights it. The orange glow briefly illuminates his face before he exhales the smoke into the fresh morning air.
— You don't want to know why I'm here?
— I already know, he replies, offering me the cigarette.
I accept it, our fingers brushing briefly.
— Do you really think you can play this game with me, Emily?
I take a drag from the cigarette, staring at him through the smoke.
— You don't yet know what you've gotten yourself into.
His smile fades, his gaze turning darker.
— Maybe. But I intend to find out.
He steps closer, and this time, I don't back away. His hand slips into my hair, tugging my head back slightly.
— You're hiding something from me, he murmurs against my throat.
— And you think I'm going to tell you?
A low, grave laugh escapes his throat.
— No. But I will find out.
His lips brush against my skin, and a shiver runs down my spine. I close my eyes, struggling against the burning desire that threatens to engulf me once again.
— You're playing with fire, Victorio.
— And you're about to fall into it.
I gently push his hand away and step back, breathless.
— I need to go.
He fixes me with a gaze, his smile vanishing.
— Where to?
— It's not important.
He blocks my path with a slow but precise gesture.
— If you think you can escape me, Emily, you're mistaken.
I stare at him, my eyes locked on his.
— It's not me who's trapped, Victorio.
He narrows his eyes, but before he can respond, my phone vibrates on the table.
I pick it up, glancing quickly at the screen. A message from Rafael.
"We have a problem. Meet me in an hour."
— Who was that? Victorio asks, his voice hard.
— No one.
His gaze hardens.
— You're lying.
I smile softly, placing the cigarette back in the ashtray.
— You're in a good position to know that lying is second nature in this profession.
He steps closer again, his face just inches from mine.
— If you think I'm going to let you slip away after what happened last night…
— What are you going to do? Chain me to the bed?
His smile broadens.
— If that's what it takes to keep you by my side…
I raise an eyebrow.
— I'm not a woman to be owned, Victorio.
I turn away, heading toward the bathroom to get ready. But before I close the door, I hear him murmur:
— Not yet.
—
An hour later, I meet Rafael in a small café downtown. He's sitting in the back, a cap pulled down over his forehead.
— You're late, he says without looking up.
— Victorio was hard to shake off.
He looks up, and his dark gaze pierces through me.
— You're getting attached to him.
— I'm controlling the situation.
— No. You're getting played, Emily. That guy is dangerous.
— I know.
— Then why do you keep playing?
I sit down across from him, crossing my legs.
— Because he holds the key.
Rafael shakes his head, exasperated.
— This mission was supposed to be simple. Seduce, get information, leave.
— Things have changed.
He stares at me for a moment, his gaze hard.
— That's what they always say before getting killed.
I give him a cold look.
— I know what I'm doing.
— I hope you're right. Because if you're wrong, it's not just you who will pay the price.
I stand up, running a hand through my hair and heading towards the exit.
— I've got this.
— Emily.
I stop.
— He's going to break you.
I turn around, my dark gaze locking onto his.
— Maybe.
I step out of the café, my heart racing.
Victorio Moretti is a trap. A deadly danger.
But what frightens me most is that I've already started to fall.