Tension

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

"Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? Take me home right now!" I snapped, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at his gaze. He looked so damn tempting.

He tilted his head, the corners of his mouth tugging with a smirk as he came closer.
"You're feisty." His voice was low, but teasing. It sent a chill down my spine.

Before I could take a step back, his strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me against his chest. My breath caught in my throat. He smelled like cedar wood and smoke, intoxicating.

"What are you-" I stammered, but his finger pressed softly to my lips, silencing me.

"Careful, amore," he murmured, his grip tightened just enough to make my heart race.
"I could kill you right here. Now, tell me—what's your name?"

I glared at him, despite the heat forming in my cheeks. "That's none of your business."

Before he could respond, a sharp knock interrupted us. One of his men stepped in, murmuring something important. With a sigh, he released me, a smirk lingering on his lips as he turned to leave.

Later that night, my stomach growled, as I was restless. I wrapped the warm cozy blanket around me as, I only had my lingerie on underneath, hoping everyone was asleep. I wandered down the dimly lit hallways, down the stairs. The house was very quiet, but every creek on the floorboards felt like a scream in the dark night.

When I entered the kitchen, the faint glow of the fridge light illuminated the darkness. I poured a glass of water, trying not to think of my family back home, and how annoying this place felt. I wanted to go home. Or at least, I thought I did.

"Can't sleep?" His deep voice startled me, low and smooth, cutting straight through the darkness. I turned to see him lounging on the couch, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal his toned chest.

"No," I said, turning away. "I'd rather be home in MY bed if anything." My voice dripping with sarcasm.

I reached for the counter, but the glass slipped from my fingers, shattering at my feet. Before I could react, he was there—fast, and concerned. He lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the counter as if I weighed nothing.

"Are you hurt, amore?" he asked, his hands steady on my waist. His icy blue eyes scanned for any injuries.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, heat forming in my cheeks like a tint of pink. His presence was overwhelming, and I couldn't stop staring at him—his sharp jawline, the way his hair fell perfectly into his face.

He paused, his gaze lingering on my lips. My breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.

His lips hovered inches from mine, the air between us thick with unspoken desires. My heart raced, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

"Boss," a sharp, cold voice echoed from the shadows. I flinched as I looked up at him, biting my lip if I wanted more. A tall woman stepped into the light, her arms crossed over her chest.

He straightened up, his demeanor shifting back.

"What is it?" He asked, his tone intense.

The woman's eyes flicked at me for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. "We need to talk. It's urgent."

He glanced back at me, his jaw tightening. Without another word, he walked away, leaving me at the counter, breathless and confused.