A business arrangement forced us together.
His power keeps us tangled.
And every time I try to pull away... I want him even more.
" * " indicate more mature/ explicit scenes, the more the spicier
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AMIRA
The elevator doors part with a ding and I step out like I've got somewhere better to be because if I stay still for even a second, I'll remember he's behind me. I'll probably look back at him too.
Alessandro.
The air is so goddamn heavy. I don't need to turn around to know he's there. I can feel him. Like his presence is stitched into the hem of my blazer. Like the fucking air bends around him. It irritates me how hyper aware I am of this man and how his steps match mine.
I know if I'm haunting you You must be haunting me
We haven't really spoken since Italy. Since that night.
Since I let him in.
Since I let myself fall apart in his hands like I was something delicate and he was the only one who knew how to hold me without breaking me.
Now? We're back in Manhattan, and everything is cold again. Professional. Except my body still remembers how he kissed me like it was a secret. And my heart? My heart needs to stop looking for him in every room. My eyes need to stop searching for him in every corner.
I walk ahead, heels hitting the floor of the marble hallway outside the conference rooms. I strut with false confidence because I sure as hell don't feel in control right now. I don't slow down. Don't pause. Not even when I hear him behind me calm, collected, a few feet back like we didn't see every inch of each other not even two weeks ago.
We're here for a partnership update meeting. Just another calendar invite. Just another room. But when I push open the glass doors and step inside, it might as well be a stage.
Everyone else is already seated Nia included, giving me a look that screams, "Girl. Breathe, Cálmate ."
I pretend not to see her.
I take my seat near the front. Alessandro slides into the one directly across from me. Not beside me. Across. Strategic. He wants me to look at him.
Fuck.
I won't.
I nod my head in delighted greeting to Senior Armani and our assistants.
Then I keep my eyes on my iPad , scroll through numbers I'm not really reading. My finger taps the screen, just to keep moving. Keep busy. My eyes trail over the many characters that I comprehend but can't seen to pay enough attention to make out.
But then he speaks, opening that talented mouth of his
His voice low, smooth, laced with that Italian bite. "Amira." the way he always rolls that R is making its way up my list of favorite sounds.
I flinch.
Only once. But it's enough.
I look up. Just briefly. And there he is suit perfect, jaw sharp, lips curved in the ghost of a smirk that only I know the real meaning behind.
