Emily
The silence is almost oppressive in the dimly lit room. The soft light from the chandelier on the ceiling casts a golden glow on the dark walls, accentuating the tension that hangs in the air. My lips are still burning from the kiss that Victorio gave me. My legs tremble slightly under the too-short dress, the fabric brushing against my sensitive skin.
I am sitting in a leather armchair, my back straight, my hands crossed over my knees to hide the trembling of my fingers. Victorio stands facing me, casually leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke rises slowly, curling around his face sculpted by shadows. He devours me with his gaze, that same icy stare that seems to penetrate my soul.
— So, Emily… he murmurs, his low, hoarse voice sliding under my skin like a poisoned caress.
I look up at him, gathering my courage.
— So what?
A fleeting smile stretches his lips. He takes a long drag from his cigarette before placing it in a crystal ashtray.
— You come to me in that tight dress with your barely concealed confidence. You want to play? Then play.
He approaches slowly, each step echoing on the floorboards. My breath quickens as he stops right in front of me. He leans down, placing his hands on either side of the armchair, trapping me between his arms. His scent—a mixture of leather, musk, and something darker—fills my nostrils, intoxicating me.
— Tell me, Emily… he begins, his warm breath brushing my skin. — Do you really know what you're doing?
I hold his gaze, challenging him as best as I can.
— Yes.
His smile widens.
— That's what I like about you. That arrogance… that illusion of control.
His hand slowly glides down my cheek, to my neck, where he lightly presses his fingers on my pulse that beats too fast. My heart pounds in my chest, yet I do not look away.
— But I'll tell you one thing, Emily, he breathes. — You have no control here.
He straightens up slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. He removes his jacket, revealing a white shirt that fits perfectly over his muscular torso. The fabric is taut over his broad shoulders, the first button slightly undone, offering a glimpse of his tanned skin.
— Let me guess… he continues. — You came here to seduce me. To charm me.
— Maybe, I reply with a shrug.
He laughs softly. A deep, dangerous laugh.
— So, why you? Why would a woman like you, a stranger in this world, take that risk?
I feel his gaze pierce my defenses. He knows something is off. He is too smart not to notice. I have underestimated the danger he represents.
— Maybe I like risk, I respond, my voice firmer than I truly feel.
— No. That's not it, he replies, shaking his head. — You're hiding something.
I stand up, breaking the proximity between us, and head to the bar at the other end of the room. My heels echo on the wooden floor. I pour a glass of whiskey, my hands slightly trembling, and bring it to my lips. The burning liquid travels down my throat, soothing the knot of tension in my stomach.
Victorio watches me with a smirk.
— Do you really want to play? he asks.
I turn to him, my gaze hard.
— Maybe I'm not the pawn you think I am.
— Oh, I have no doubt about that, he replies, a spark of amusement in his eyes. — But in this game, Emily, there is only one master.
He crosses the room in three long strides. Before I can retreat, he is in front of me, his hands resting on my hips. I shiver at his touch. His hand glides along my hip, then slowly rises along my spine, sending shivers through me.
— It's not you who controls this game, he murmurs against my temple.
— You think? I say, defying the shiver coursing through my body.
— I know.
His lips brush my cheek, then slowly descend along my jawline. My breath quickens as his mouth reaches the hollow of my neck. I close my eyes, unable to resist the heat flooding my body.
— You're playing with fire, Emily, he whispers against my skin.
— Maybe I like to burn, I reply in a whisper.
A low growl emerges from his throat. He suddenly spins me around and pins me against the wall. His hand traps my wrists above my head. His body is pressed against mine, his warm breath caressing my skin.
— You are too beautiful for this world, he murmurs.
— Maybe I'm meant for it, I reply.
His lips capture mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. His tongue slips between my lips, demanding, dominating. My body responds instinctively, warmth spreading between my thighs.
His hand glides along my thigh, slowly lifting my dress.
— You shouldn't be here, Emily, he growls.
— Maybe I'm exactly where I need to be.
He stops abruptly, his forehead against mine. His icy eyes have darkened, filled with raw desire.
— You don't know what you're getting into.
— Then show me, I whisper.
His smile is predatory. He releases my wrists and steps back, leaving me breathless against the wall.
— Not tonight, Emily.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt, his gaze sliding slowly down my body.
— But soon.
He walks away toward the door, his shadow disappearing into the dark hallway. I stand there, my heart racing, breath short, my lips still swollen from the brutality of his kiss.
I lean against the wall, one hand on my heart.
Victorio Valenti is dangerous.
But the most dangerous thing of all… is that I already want more.