Emily
I pull away, my heart pounding wildly.
I leave the room, but his gaze follows me.
And I know this game is far from over.
The night is heavy and humid as I exit Victorio's villa. The air is thick with moisture, clinging my thin dress to my skin as my heels click against the marble of the porch. A shiver runs down my spine, but it's not due to the chill in the air. It's that gaze. That damn gaze.
Victorio let me go, but his smile said it all. He didn't lose tonight. No. That smile promised he would return. That this round was just a warm-up.
— Madame?
The chauffeur is there, next to the black car, ready to open the door. He stands straight, impassive, as if he hasn't seen or heard anything.
— Take me home, I command, my voice firmer than I truly feel.
He slightly inclines his head, opens the door. I get into the car, collapsing against the cold leather of the seat. The city lights flash by behind the tinted window as we drive through the night.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. It was just a game of poker. A simple game. So why do I feel like I've lost more than just a hand of cards?
My phone vibrates in my bag.
I pull it out, heart racing. A message.
"I can't wait to play with you again. – V"
I grip the phone between my fingers, breathless. This game is slipping away from me.
When the car stops in front of my building, the chauffeur immediately steps out to open the door for me.
— Good night, madame, he says, slightly bowing.
I don't respond and quickly climb the stairs to my apartment. I open the door, close it behind me, and press my forehead against the wood.
— Damn…
I rip off my heels and head to the kitchen. A glass of wine. I need a glass of wine. I open a bottle of red, pour the dark liquid into a glass, and bring it to my lips.
The taste is bitter, but the weight on my chest lightens a little.
I open the living room window, letting the fresh night air seep in. The city lights twinkle in the distance. I slump onto the couch, the glass of wine between my fingers.
A noise.
A crack in the hallway.
I sit up.
— Who's there? I call out in a harsh voice.
No answer.
I grab the fruit knife sitting on the coffee table and stand slowly. My breath is quick, my muscles tense.
A shadow slips near the door.
— Show yourself, I command.
The living room door opens slowly.
A man appears in the shadows. Tall, lean, dressed in a dark suit. His hair is black, his eyes a steel blue.
— Adrian… I whisper.
He smiles slightly, his gaze sliding over the knife in my hand.
— You really think you can threaten me with that?
— What are you doing here?
— Watching you.
I frown.
— Watching me?
He steps forward slowly, his eyes gleaming coldly in the dim light.
— Do you really think Victorio will be satisfied with just this card game? You're a target, Emily. He will return.
I lift my chin.
— I know how to defend myself.
— Not against him.
He approaches until the distance between us is almost nonexistent. His scent—a mix of leather and ash—fills my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
— Why are you here, Adrian? I ask.
He stares at me, his pupils slightly dilating.
— Because you belong to me.
— What?!
He grabs my wrist, pulling me against him.
— Victorio thinks he can play with you. But he forgets that I saw you first.
I place a hand on his chest, trying to push him away.
— I don't belong to anyone!
Adrian laughs softly, but his gaze is icy.
— You still don't understand, Emily. You're already in this game. You never had a choice.
— You think I'm going to stay here and let you play with me?
He tilts his head, his breath brushing against my cheek.
— You can try to run, but Victorio and I… we are two predators. You are the prey.
My heart pounds in my chest.
— Get out of my house.
He brushes my cheek with his fingertips.
— Very well. But remember this: the next time Victorio strikes, you won't have anyone else to turn to.
He slowly turns away, his eyes piercing mine one last time before he disappears into the darkness of the hallway.
I stand frozen, breathless, my heart pounding too hard in my chest.
A shiver runs down my spine.
I know Adrian is telling the truth. Victorio won't give up. And now, Adrian is involved.
— Damn…
I turn back to the couch, the glass of wine trembling in my hand.
Another message appears on my phone.
"Next round tomorrow night. I hope you're ready. – V"
I close my eyes, my hand clenched around the phone.
The game is just beginning.
Dawn filters through the curtains of my bedroom, casting a pale light on the rumpled sheets. I slowly open my eyes, my muscles numb from a too-short night. My thoughts are still haunted by Adrian's visit. By his presence, his warm breath against my skin, his burning gaze.