Emily
I am sitting in my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on Victorio's club. Night has fallen long ago, plunging the city into an electric, almost suffocating atmosphere. Red and blue neon lights illuminate the club's façade, casting dancing shadows on the wet pavement.
My breath is short, my thoughts in disarray. Victorio knows. He has figured out my game, or at least part of it. What he said last night still echoes in my mind: "How far are you willing to go?"
I should back away. Leave, call my superiors, and tell them the cover is compromised. But my fingers remain clutched to the wheel, as if an invisible force is holding me here.
This is no longer just a mission. It has become personal.
Victorio is a deadly trap, and yet, a part of me burns to fall into it.
I take a trembling breath, then I open the door. My heels click on the sidewalk as I walk toward the entrance of the club. The bouncer recognizes me immediately and lets me pass without a word. The inside of the club is saturated with heat, music, and desire. Bodies press together on the dance floor, the dim lights caressing silhouettes like a silent promise.
I make my way through the crowd to the back of the room. Victorio is there, settled in his usual corner, a glass in hand, looking perfectly at ease amidst this controlled chaos.
His eyes catch mine as I approach. A shiver runs down my spine.
— Emily, he says in a smooth voice, the corner of his lips curving into a dangerous smile.
I stop right in front of him, arms crossed.
— Why did you call me?
Victorio tilts his head slightly, his gaze sliding slowly from my face to my neckline, then lower still, before rising back up with calculated slowness.
— Sit down.
— No. Tell me what you want.
A glint of amusement flickers in his eyes.
— Very well. Follow me.
He stands up, his six-foot-three frame of muscles and dominance immediately taking possession of the space. He gives me no choice. He starts walking, and I follow him without thinking, as if hypnotized by his fluid stride and the animal tension that emanates from him.
He leads me to a discreet door, guarded by two armed men. They let us pass without a word. A long, dimly lit hallway stretches before us. Victorio pushes open another door, revealing a luxurious, soundproofed room.
A massive bay window offers a plunging view of the illuminated city. A glass coffee table sits in the center of the room, surrounded by black leather chairs.
Victorio turns to me, closing the door behind him.
— Why are you here, Emily?
I frown.
— You called me.
He steps closer, slowly, his gaze locked on mine.
— No. Why are you really here?
I tense up.
— You know why.
He stops just inches from me, his breath brushing against my skin.
— Maybe. But I want you to tell me.
I take a step back, but he follows. His gaze is dark, burning.
— Do you think I'm stupid? he continues in a low, icy voice. Do you think I don't know that you're hiding something?
I stare at him without flinching.
— And you think you can intimidate me?
His smile widens.
— No, Emily. But I know you feel the same thing I do. This tension. This burn. This need.
His hand brushes my cheek, and despite myself, I shiver.
— Do you think you can play this game with me? he breathes. Do you think you can manipulate me?
He slides his thumb over my lower lip.
— I am the predator, Emily. Not you.
My breath quickens. My skin ignites where he touches me. I should push him away. I should pull back. But I remain frozen.
— Maybe, I say in a hoarse voice. But even a predator can be trapped.
A shadow of darkness crosses his eyes.
— Oh, my sweet Emily… If you think you have control, then you haven't understood anything.
With a brutal gesture, he grabs me by the waist and presses me against the bay window. My breath catches. My back meets the cold glass as his scorching body presses against mine.
— Tell me to stop, he whispers against my ear.
My hands cling to his shoulders. My heart beats so hard I feel like it's going to explode.
— Emily…
His mouth brushes against mine, so close…
— Stop me.
But I don't.
Instead, my lips part. And he seizes my mouth with possessive brutality.
His tongue slips between my lips, demanding, asserting. My hands slip into his hair, my hips arching under the pressure of his body.
I lose myself in this kiss, in the taste of his mouth, in the dark, musky scent of his skin. He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist, his body pressing deeper against mine.
— You are mine, he whispers against my mouth.
I gasp, my nails digging into his neck.
— And what if it's you who belongs to me?
He chuckles softly, a dark, delightful sound.
— We'll see about that…
His lips slide down my neck, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. My hips roll against him, seeking more.
— You're going to hate me, Emily, he murmurs against my skin.
I lock my eyes with his.
— I've already started.
He kisses me again, wild and burning. And I realize at that moment that I'm doomed.
Because Victorio Moretti is in the process of possessing me — body and soul.
—
Later, when the door closes behind me, my legs are still trembling. My skin is still marked by his fingers, my mouth sore from the force of his kisses.
I lean against the wall, breathless.
I am falling.
No… I have already fallen.
And Victorio understood it long before I did.
Now, he knows he no longer needs to hunt me.
Because I am already his prey.