The Mafia Queen's Obsession

Part 4

Selene's eyes glittered as she took in the challenge in Ayla's tone. "Oh, we will," she said, her voice soft but carrying a dangerous edge. "We definitely will."

Ayla felt the heat of Selene's gaze, the kind that seemed to strip away any pretence. 

There was a playful tension in the air, and the way Selene leaned toward her, eyes glittering with mischief, told her this wasn't just a casual conversation. This was a game, one that Ayla had never played, but was more than willing to try.

"So," Selene began, her voice dropping a little lower, almost conspiratorial, "you come here, dressed like that, and expect me to believe you're not looking for something more than just a drink?" She cocked her head, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she studied Ayla with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Ayla raised an eyebrow, matching her smirk. "You think I'm here for you?" she asked, her tone playful but with a hint of challenge. She couldn't help but notice the way Selene's eyes lingered on her, the way she seemed to be sizing her up, almost like a puzzle to be solved.

Selene laughed softly, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, darling, I think you're here for something." She leaned in just a little closer, the proximity making the air between them thick with something unspoken. "Whether you admit it or not."

Ayla's heart skipped a beat. 

She could feel the electricity between them, the way Selene's presence made everything else in the room fade into the background. 

This woman, she thought. 

She knows exactly what she's doing.

With a sly smile, Ayla lifted her glass, taking a slow sip before meeting Selene's eyes again. "You're confident, I'll give you that. But let's be real. You've probably got a whole line of people trying to get your attention right now."

Selene's gaze flicked to the crowd behind her, but she didn't seem concerned. "Oh, I'm sure," she replied nonchalantly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "But they're all just noise. You, on the other hand... you're different." Her voice softened, carrying a hint of something more dangerous beneath the surface. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm intrigued."

Ayla felt the pull of Selene's words, the promise of something more than just a flirtation, something far more dangerous. "You think I'm different, huh?" she asked, leaning in just enough to close the distance between them, her voice low and steady. "What makes you so sure?"

Selene studied her for a moment, her lips curling into a playful smile. "It's the way you don't fall into line with everyone else here. You don't seem impressed by me, or at least you're pretending not to be. And I have to say, I find that refreshing."

Ayla's smile widened, the tension shifting into something more intimate. "Maybe I'm just waiting to see if you can impress me."

Selene's eyes sparkled, the flirtation in her gaze shifting into something sharper. "Is that so? Well, darling, you'll be waiting a long time. But then again..." She paused, her voice dropping even lower, "...some things are worth the wait."

Ayla's pulse quickened, the playful banter now carrying a heavier weight. She wasn't sure where this conversation would lead, but she knew one thing for sure—Selene Moretti wasn't the kind of woman you could walk away from easily. 

And right now, Ayla wasn't sure she wanted to.

The tension between them hung in the air like a thick fog, both women aware of the game they were playing, neither of them willing to back down. 

Ayla leaned back, taking another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Selene's.

Ayla shifted in her seat, the heat of the conversation lingering like an electric current between them. 

The way Selene's eyes held her, the tension building, it was starting to feel like the air in the club had grown thick, almost suffocating. 

Her dress—too tight, too constricting, suddenly felt like it was made of fire. The flirtation, the heat, it was all too much.

She took a breath, trying to steady herself. "Excuse me," Ayla said, her voice smooth, though the rush of warmth had left her feeling a little off-balance. She flashed Selene a brief but playful smile. "I need a moment to... cool off."

Selene's gaze never wavered, but the smirk on her lips softened, as if she was amused by Ayla's sudden retreat. "Take your time," she replied, her voice dripping with a mix of amusement and something else—something that Ayla couldn't quite place but knew she'd have to come back for.

Ayla stood, smoothing the edges of her dress, and made her way through the crowd, her heart still racing in her chest. 

She needed to clear her head, to think.

The washroom was a welcome escape—a quiet moment away from the pulsating music and the eyes of the room. 

She stepped inside, locking the door behind her, and immediately leaned against the counter, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her cheeks were flushed, her skin warm, and it wasn't just the alcohol. It was Selene. 

Selene Moretti, the untouchable woman who somehow made her lose her cool with nothing more than a few words.

Ayla took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. 

Get a grip, she told herself. This wasn't the time for distractions. She was here for one thing: information. She couldn't afford to get caught up in whatever game Selene was playing. Not yet, anyway.

After a moment, Ayla splashed her face with cold water, the chill of it snapping her out of the haze. 

She stared at her reflection one last time, straightening up. Stay focused, she thought. You're not here to get lost in her eyes. You're here to take down the Morettis.

With a final glance in the mirror, Ayla smirked at herself, an idea sparking in her mind. Let's see how long Selene can keep up this charade.

Ayla hadn't expected to be gone long, but when she stepped out of the washroom, her breath hitched.

There, standing just a few feet away, was Selene Moretti, her gaze locked onto Ayla's with a predatory gleam. Without a word, Selene moved quickly, her presence so intense it felt like the room itself bent to her will. 

In a blur of motion, she was on her, grabbing Ayla by the arm and pinning her against the cold, tiled wall of the hallway.

Ayla gasped, the air between them suddenly too thick to breathe. 

She was pressed up against Selene, her back against the hard surface as Selene's hand rested firmly on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

Selene's lips curled into that teasing, almost dangerous smirk.

 Her face was close—so close that Ayla could feel her breath, could smell the subtle scent of perfume mixed with something darker. 

Her eyes never left Ayla's, studying her with a knowing intensity, like she already had Ayla figured out.

"Well, well," Selene murmured, her voice silky and full of amusement. "I should've recognized you sooner. The Ayla Novak." She let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost condescending but with a hint of admiration. "World famous journalist, the woman who takes down the untouchable. And here I thought I was the one who knew how to keep things interesting."

Ayla's heart raced, but she didn't flinch, didn't try to push Selene away. 

She could feel the heat from Selene's body seeping into hers, the overwhelming power of the moment. 

This wasn't just a confrontation—it was a challenge, one that Selene was clearly enjoying.