Sinner's Paradise|| 18+

Rio

           Liliana's POV: 

The last four hours dragged on like molasses. Luciano hadn't said a word to me; it was like I had the plague or something. Now I was tucked away in a sprawling penthouse in Rio de Janeiro, wondering if I'd be sharing a room with him. The very thought made me itch to be anywhere else.

The air was warm, inviting. Without thinking much about it, I wandered out to the balcony. The view was mesmerizing. Below me lay Brazil's golden coastline, sparkling under the fading sun, with the sounds of music and distant laughter drifting up from the street. It was impossible not to feel enchanted, but I shook off the feeling. I needed to go out and breathe some life back into myself.

"Celia!" I called, breaking the silence. I leaned over the balcony rail, letting my mind drift until a soft knock pulled me back to reality.

"Come in," I said.

Celia stepped inside, standing at attention like she was ready for orders. "Hi, Miss Liliana. How can I help?"

I walked up to her, trying to keep my voice casual. "You know the city well, right?"

She nodded, and I felt my shoulders relax a bit. "Take me out, show me around," I said, the words spilling out impulsively.

Celia's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "I, uh, have to ask Mr. Santos for permission."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a smirk. "He isn't my boss. We don't need his approval."

Her lips twitched, but I could see the nervous edge in her laugh. "Mr. Santos can be... very unpleasant when he's angry. I'd really rather ask him first."

"Celia, darling," I purred, stepping uncomfortably close, "I'm his wife. Which makes me your boss. And I've decided that tonight, we're dressing to kill and hitting the hottest club in Rio." I winked. "And don't even think about backing out."

She let out a resigned sigh, folding her arms with a smirk of her own. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not a chance."

She muttered something about getting back early, but I was already rummaging through my closet, pulling out a black, off-shoulder mini dress that hugged in all the right places and a pair of six-inch Louboutin Cassia Lace-Up Altas. As soon as I was ready, makeup on and hair perfect in under 30 minutes, I found her waiting downstairs.

When the elevator doors slid open, Celia grinned and called out, "Miss Liliana, you are serving."

I let out a laugh. "Right back at you, babe."

We headed out to the massive parking lot, and I felt a thrill of excitement as we approached a sleek, custom-made black Bugatti. Celia mentioned it was a gift from one of Luciano's many female "best friends." Whatever.

I shot her a look, and we both climbed in, ready to leave the penthouse and its stifling air behind. Tonight was ours.

Celia and I laughed as we sped down the winding Rio streets, the city lights blurring past in neon streaks. She handled the wheel with one hand, a bottle in the other, while I took another swig of my own drink, feeling the burn slide down my throat. As she blasted a Brazilian song, she belted out the lyrics, her voice rising with every beat.

"Chama, neném, que eu vou te pegar Sua mãe não tá em casa, então pode jogar," she sang, her voice carefree and raw.

I joined in, pretending I knew the lyrics, my voice stumbling over the words but catching her contagious energy. She burst out laughing and turned down the music, throwing me a look. "You don't know this song! Let's sing something you actually know."

I gasped, putting a hand over my heart with mock offense. "How dare you? I totally know this song!"

She raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitching into a grin. "Oh really? Then tell me who sings it."

I scrambled, trying to remember any Brazilian artist's name. "It's, um... Neymar?"

She laughed so hard she could barely keep her eyes on the road. "Neymar? The football player? A rapper? Oh my God!" She wiped a tear from her eye, and we both laughed until our stomachs ached, the car zooming through Rio's electric nightlife.

Finally, we reached the club, a massive, lavish building with lights that pulsed with every beat from inside. The line snaked around the building, filled with people dressed to the nines, all waiting for a chance to step inside. I resigned myself to the wait, but Celia had other plans. She winked at me, whispered something in Russian to the bouncer, then turned with a smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Santos."

I raised an eyebrow, but she just shrugged, and we were whisked past the velvet ropes and into the exclusive VIP section. The music was a thumping, seductive beat, and Celia and I drank like we were invincible. Her hand slipped into mine, and she laughed, pulling me toward the crowd. "Let's go early," she said, swaying a bit.

I shook my head. "Are you kidding? We haven't even danced, and the night's just getting started!" I grinned, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

The music wrapped around me, Brazilian funk filling the air, and it was like my body had a mind of its own. I moved with the beat, feeling free and wild, spinning and laughing, dancing with strangers who grinned and cheered me on. Time seemed to blur, and eventually, I found my way to the bar, breathless and ready for water.

"Excuse me, I only ordered water," I told the bartender as she set down a second glass beside it.

She inclined her head toward a dark corner. "The gentleman over there sent it over."

Curious, I followed her gaze and froze, my heart skipping. Luciano sat there, his gaze sharp as he raised his glass in a small nod. I composed myself, nodding back, then downed the drink in one go, letting the fire slide down my throat. Summoning my nerve, I walked over, my steps slow and teasing as I ignored the blonde at his side.

When I got close, I slid right onto his lap, my fingers resting on his chest, not even sparing his "company" a glance. I could feel the tension in his body, his jaw clenched as he fought back some mix of annoyance and something much deeper.

The blonde glared, but he dismissed her with a polite, "Excuse me." She got up in a huff, but I didn't care. I had his attention now. I bit my lip, letting my hand drift up to his collar, and his gaze darkened.

"Didn't I tell you not to leave the house alone?" he muttered, his voice low and almost dangerous.

I gave him an innocent smile, shrugging. "I wasn't alone. I had Celia with me."

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer. "And how much have you had to drink tonight?"

I held up my fingers, barely a sliver of space between them. "Just a tiny bit," I teased, my voice playful.

He shook his head, his grip firm as he said, "Let's go."

Instead, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him, my lips pressing softly against his. He didn't move, didn't react, so I tried again, pouring more intensity into it, daring him to respond. This time, he grabbed my face, his hands rough as he held me close, his lips crashing into mine with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.