His Wicked Temptation

Chapter Nine

✈︎

à la folie
(m.) to insanity

ROSABELLE

"Again? Where are we going this time?" Even in the short time we've spent together, Emi and I had grown close enough for him to make unannounced visits and take us on late-night tours. "And don't say you like surprises unless you want me to close the door in your face," I said, folding my arms over my chest and glaring up at him. He leaned against the doorframe, a devious grin plastered over his face.

"You'd do that, Belle?"

"If you trust me enough, you know the answer."

He made a face as if he was sad, but I knew better than anyone that this man was never sad. He always messed with people, including me.

"Damn," he chuckled, "Where'd the shy, good girl go?" I couldn't hide the slight blush that covered my cheeks at his remark. "She's on a vacation. Now, spill," I demanded, clearing my throat.

I refused to go with him right now if he didn't tell me where we were going, although my shameless heart has been screaming at me to not push him too much and appreciate the company he's giving me.

After all, no businessman in Moscow, or anyone in the whole world for that matter, would ever knock on my door after evening hours and ask to take me on a so-called date, as I name it, with such a smile plastered on their face.

However, Emi was so obstinate with his choices that he got on my nerves sometimes. Man didn't even let me pay the bills. The last time I tried forcing him to let me pay, he looked at me as if I were annoying him. After that, thinking that I was really annoying him, I decided to stop the persuasion and let him pay in peace, only for him to laugh at the face I made afterward, because my dumb ass became nervous assuming that I actually irritated him, and he finally won the battle of persuasion.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes."

He sighed, and breathed out another chuckle. "We're going to take a stroll in Gorky Park, Belle."

I blinked, my brain taking more time than necessary to process his words. It was me who let out a nervous chuckle after that, completely taken aback by his suggestion. "... By any chance, Emi, are you trying to make the wishes of my bucket list come alive?"

He wiggled his eyebrows in a playful gesture, letting my question answer for itself.

I was left with curiosity still clouding my mind when I followed him out of my villa. Because though I found the answer to his question, I couldn't find the reason to why he would do that in the first place.

✈︎

Even if my whole day was ruined, I would still be left in bliss after seeing the scenario before me. Because I didn't know what could be more amusing than watching the gigantic man take small bites from a cotton candy, his face showing approving emotions to its sweet taste as well.

"Didn't know you had it in you to ever like sweet flavors," I teased, almost admiring Emi's reactions rather than eating my own cotton candy.

We walked on the roads of the beautiful Gorky Park in Moscow, the moon shining brightly above us. His emerald green eyes sparkled under its aloof light.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze provided a soothing melody. Dimly lit pathways wound their way through the park, inviting strollers to explore its hidden corners. The park's serene atmosphere was enhanced by the soft glow of streetlights, casting a warm, golden hue on everything it touched.

"Oh, you don't know how much of a sweet lover I am, Belle." Emi shot me a playful smile, and I laughed. "I'd love to know, really. Because the amount of time I've seen you drinking and eating bitter things, I'm almost convinced that your tastebuds are ruined."

He shook his head at my response, but agreed with my words anyway. "Do you like sweets, though?"

"Is that even a question?" I huffed, nodding my head frantically. "Of course! I love sweet flavors the most. And you probably like bitter tastes, I assume?"

"Yeah," he said. "I admit that I prefer bitter tastes more than spice or sweet. You could call me unhinged on that. But hey, I wouldn't deny it either." A slight smile spread across his face when I laughed loudly, and his mesmerizing side glance didn't go unnoticed by me, causing my foolish heart to skip a beat.

"Do you like flowers, by the way?" I asked, looking around the flowery pathways that surrounded us.

"Yes, what about you, Belle?"

"I do love flowers, but I'm a little allergic to lilies."

Our conversation carried on, and I lost track of time. When I returned home at nine p.m., and was about to bid my farewell to Emi, a sudden mortification crashed over me at a realization.

"Goodnight, Belle."

His figure slowly disappeared from my sight as he drove away, leaving me standing in front of my villa, uncertain.

He was gone.

In less than three weeks I would be leaving Moscow. The playful, mysterious man before me would soon become a mere piece of memory. As my father's words echoed in my mind, I recalled all the bad decisions I've made in my life.

Don't fall for a Russian man.

Was I getting too ahead of myself?

Given Emi's carefree nature, I was certain that he'd forget me in no time. But would I be able to do the same?

✈︎

EMILIANO

Leaving her house without looking back at the woman never felt easy for me. However, looking back would only make leaving even harder.

Rosabelle de Luca was slowly taking something away from me; perhaps a piece of myself. And I was certain that she wouldn't return it. Not that I cared, though.

If she was taking, I'd steal.

Whatever my mere interest in her was turning into, I didn't just like it.

I loved it. Relished it.

And it was bad. Very bad.

But, if you were to ask me:

Did I care?

No. My every sense answered for me.

With every step I took, I was reminded of Rosabelle. With every breath I inhaled, I was reminded of Rosabelle. With every thought that consumed my mind, all of them were about Rosabelle. She even invaded my dreams, stealing the tiniest moments of time I had only for myself.

Who said I wasn't going to do the same to her?

The way she wore mini skirts, the way she always tied her hair in a ponytail, the way her baby blue eyes gleamed brighter than the sun itself when she looked at me – she might have thought I wouldn't notice the crush she had on me, but she made it so obvious, almost as if to torture me.

But I wanted to be more than just a crush. I wanted to be everything she sees, hears, touches, smells, and tastes. I wanted to tear off that mini skirt from her body. I wanted to wrap my hand around her ponytail and pull it. I wanted that gleam in her eyes to burn, burn, and burn until I perished in its fire.

A loud growl escaped my lips, and my knees buckled so intensely that I had to cling to the wall of my shower for support. A sensual haze blurred my vision as I fought to catch my breath, my heart yearning to break free from its cage. Gazing downward, I watched as the liquid white material were washed away by the water streaming over my body.

I turned the shower temperature to its minimum, the icy water feeling scorching against my skin.

Still, I felt as though I were engulfed in flames.

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