Now that Adrian had left her standing there—lips swollen, body still burning with unsatisfied need—Valeria had only one thought: she needed to regain control.
She hadn't expected to want more. She hadn't expected to need more.
But now, as she stood alone in the dimly lit hallway, her body still thrumming from his touch, it became clear—Adrian DeLuca wasn't just a game anymore.
He was becoming a dangerous temptation.
The sound of the distant music filtered through the walls, a stark reminder that the party was still in full swing. Laughter, clinking glasses, the seductive murmur of conversation—it all felt distant, irrelevant.
Because her mind was still trapped in that corner.
Still pinned beneath the weight of his body.
Still chained by the hunger in his kiss.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She had been the one meant to make him unravel. But instead, Adrian had turned the tables on her—kissing her so deeply, touching her so possessively that her entire body had betrayed her.
She could still feel the way his hand had pressed into the curve of her lower back, the way his fingers had teased along her spine before gripping her flesh.
And worse—she could still feel the ghost of his hunger, his restraint, his unspoken promise.
A slow breath. A single blink. And then, she turned sharply on her heel.
She needed to leave.
★★★
Valeria didn't return to the party. Instead, she moved with practiced grace through the estate, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors. Every step was deliberate, composed—masking the chaos still burning inside her.
By the time she slipped into the sleek black car waiting outside, the night air had cooled, but it did nothing to quench the fire still licking at her skin.
The door shut with a quiet click.
Dark leather. The scent of polished wood and something faintly spiced. The driver's silent presence in the front seat.
She exhaled slowly, leaning back against the smooth interior, her head tilting slightly as she pressed her fingers against her still-tingling lips.
She could still taste him.
The heat of whiskey, the dark spice of his breath, the addictive, infuriating need that had crackled between them like a live wire.
Her tongue flicked out, as if she could chase the sensation.
A slow, knowing smirk curved her lips.
She had wanted control over him—but tonight, he had taken control of her.
She had felt it in the way he kissed her—desperate, raw, like he was barely holding himself back.
And she had felt it even more in the way her body had responded—instinctive, reckless, betraying everything she had planned.
That was the dangerous part.
She wasn't just playing him anymore. She was playing herself.
She lifted her phone, the glow of the screen casting soft light over her face.
Her fingers hovered for only a moment before she typed.
Valeria: You left too soon.
The car hummed smoothly over the darkened streets, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows. She watched them, waiting.
Minutes later, her phone vibrated in her palm.
A response.
Adrian: Would you have stopped me?
Her smirk deepened. Damn him.
He knew exactly how to keep her engaged, exactly how to stoke the flames without extinguishing them.
Valeria: You'll never know.
A pause.
She imagined him reading the message—leaning back in his chair, that infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face, the same wicked gleam in his eyes that had made her drunk on the danger of him.
Then, his reply—short, simple, but laced with something dark and promising.
Adrian: Oh, I will.
Her pulse jumped.
A slow exhale. This was a game she couldn't afford to lose.
And yet—she already knew she was in too deep.
★★★
Adrian stood in the shadows of his penthouse, the city stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline was a sea of distant lights, cold and glittering, but his mind was nowhere near it.
His grip on his phone tightened.
The message she had sent—the teasing challenge in her words—shouldn't have gotten to him like this.
But it did.
Because he was still hard. Still aching.
Even now, his body remembered—the press of hers, the way she had melted against him, the way she had moaned into his mouth like she wanted to be devoured.
And then she had whispered those words—"We're not finished, Adrian."
Fuck.
He raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, trying to will away the fire still raging inside him.
But it wasn't just lust.
It was frustration. It was obsession.
Valeria Ivanov was under his skin in a way no one else had ever been.
And the worst part?
He had let her do it.
He had let her pull him under, let her draw him closer, let her set fire to something inside him that he wasn't ready to name.
And yet—he still wanted more.
More of her.
More of the game.
More of the feeling he got when she looked at him like she already owned him.
His jaw flexed, his thumb brushing over her message again.
You left too soon.
His lips curled.
She thinks she's winning.
But this wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
★★★
Back at the Ivanov estate, Valeria entered her lavish suite with steady, measured steps.
The door shut behind her with a soft click, sealing her inside the quiet, dimly lit space.
For the first time since she had walked away from him, she let herself breathe.
She walked to the full-length mirror, her reflection coming into view—her dress still clinging to her curves, her hair slightly tousled, her lips still red and swollen from his kisses.
Her gaze flickered over the evidence of him, of his touch, his hunger, his claim.
Her fingers lifted, brushing against her own throat—right where his hand had been, where his thumb had traced along her pulse before gripping her like he couldn't bear to let go.
A single shiver danced down her spine.
Then, softly—a whisper of a confession.
Just for herself.
"I wanted him."
The truth was dangerous.
She had been sent to seduce him, to manipulate him, to make him weak.
Not to crave him.
Not to feel this.
She shook her head, forcing herself to breathe, to regain the control that he had stolen from her so easily.
This was just another part of the game.
Wasn't it?
Her phone buzzed.
She exhaled, already knowing who it was before she even looked.
Adrian: Sweet dreams, Valeria.
Her grip on the phone tightened.
She tossed it onto the bed, exhaling sharply, but it didn't help.
Because the truth was—
She was already dreaming about him.