His Wicked Temptation

Chapter Seven

✈︎

elayne
(m.) a ray of light

ROSABELLE

I stared at the mirror in disbelief, unable to decipher when I started agreeing to strangers' offers.

I had mixed feelings for Emiliano. One moment, I feel as though I could safely play out the fantasies I have about him in my head, and then the next moment, my damned conscience decides to scream at me, saying I literally knew nothing about that man to start fantasizing in the first place. Except for the way he smirks, which could make one kneel before him, the sinuous tattoos carved into his skin, and last but not least, his gaze. God, his gaze, such a devious, alluring pair of emerald-green eyes.

I could look at him forever.

Nino appears at my doorstep, his expression blank as he stands there, waiting for my permission to speak. I sighed, feeling oddly annoyed.

The man could act extravagant sometimes.

I turn around to face him with a frown evident on my face. "What is it, Nino?" He cleared his throat before speaking, "Miss, you have a guest."

The urge to grin was embarrassing in amount, but I managed to suppressed it anyway. "Let him know that I'll be coming down in a moment."

"Sure," he was about to leave from there, but seemingly, another question stopped him. Hence, he turned around to ask, "Miss, can I tell the boss about... your guest?"

I kept my face devoid of any expression as I stared at him, preparing an answer in my head.

Denying his suggestion would only raise his suspicion, and I didn't trust Nino to obey my command. If he sees anything going off the wrong axis, he'd tell my dad immediately, and he wouldn't hesitate to tell him as well that it's me who stopped him from letting dad know about Emiliano in the first place. After all, my dad was the one who paid and fed Nino. Of course, he'd be more loyal to him.

So, I played the safe card. With a tight smile, I responded, "You can."

At my answer, his expressionless mask seemed to falter a little, but it didn't take long for him to fix it as he sent a curt nod my way before finally leaving from my doorstep.

I kept looking at his disappearing figure. Then I huffed out a laugh and shook my head.

Anyway.

As long as my dad didn't know about my crush on Emi, I'm safe. I suppose.

I took a last glance at my figure and tucked the strands of my hair that fell above my forehead behind my ear. After taking my purse from the drawer of my walk-in closet, I made my way out of the master bedroom.

Downstairs, I was finally met with the enigmatic man who sat himself comfortably on my couch, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. However, the moment he anticipated my presence, his gaze faltered. He found me standing not very far away, and as much as his opinion on my appearance didn't matter, I kind of sought for his approval.

It was then I breathed a sigh of relief when Emi's seemingly stunned face broke into a captivating smirk. "I love the way you dress, velikolepnaya Belle." Gorgeous Belle. I nearly huffed out a choke upon hearing his toe-curling words.

I didn't know that wearing merely a baby pink mini skirt and a black crop top, which was almost eclipsed compared to his fashion, could bring out such adoring words from his mouth.

"I could accept a more believable comment, but anyway," I smiled through my blush. "Thank you," I said.

His laughter followed my response. "Oh, you don't believe me, Belle?" A pout formed on his lips as a dramatic sigh left him. "How disappointing."

I laughed too this time and then drew myself near him, almost close to where he was seated with his legs spread apart in a quite inviting gesture. However, as my self-esteem hadn't reduced to ground zero yet, I could stop myself from getting that close.

"You look good as well," I didn't stop myself from checking him out shamelessly though, my self-restraint wouldn't survive that much. "Maybe too good?"

"Say no less, Belle," he stood up from the couch afterward, standing enormous before my rather small frame.

God, were Russians that tall?

I was a solid 5'7", and still, I appeared so tiny before his figure.

"Shall we leave then?" Emi's much larger hand spread my way, waiting for me to grasp a hold of them. I easily complied, not anticipating the sense of thrill I'd feel the moment my skin touched his rough, calloused one.

His tattooed palm nearly engulfed mine, nearly making me lose my breath.

I stared up at him, my emotions betraying the voices in my head that screamed at me to run to the other side and never turn back while there's still time.

Alas, however, I didn't listen to them when Emi's own dark, covetous gaze bound my senses within its depth.

I could only manage to nod in response to his question. Before long, he led us out of my villa and inside his Rolls-Royce.

"Where are we going?" I asked after I found my voice again. "I like surprises." Emi's familiar words caused me to roll my eyes in return, scoffing at his grin afterward.

"And I don't," when he showed no sign of changing his decision to answer my question, I continued with a firm voice. "Remember, it's me who's going to visit. And you..." I smirked, "You're my tour guide, Emi. You're supposed to answer to my demands."

Emi supposedly seemed taken aback by my words, making my grin widen, only to flatten it when I found his grip tightening around the steering wheel.

Oh my God.

Was he angry?

I immediately regretted my words. But right when I went to apologize for my bold action, a breathy chuckle broke free from him, morphing my guilty expression into a rather confused one.

"You're indomitable sometimes, Rosabelle," he says, his words going over my head as they were completely off-topic. But I listened anyway as he continued. "I like it."

Was that a compliment?

I didn't know. And I didn't care as well. Because, the way he said my name? I nearly didn't hear whatever he said afterward.

"Thank you?"

The number of times I said 'thank you' after coming to Russia was literally insatiable. Perhaps because it's not every day I get compliments from such exceptionally hot men rather than a few geeks who are triple my age and my dad's companions.

"You're welcome."

"Don't try to ignore my question."

"Don't remember what you've asked, Belle."

That was a straight lie, I knew. As I glared at him in fake annoyance, he shot a wink my way, visibly more relaxed than my eagerness. "Please, Emi." I tried to make faces to get at least a hint from him, but the man remained nonchalant.

It's so unfair.

Yet, I liked it.

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