Emily
The sun begins to rise as I exit Victorio's building, breath still short, my lips burning from the kiss he stole from me. The morning chill pricks my skin, but I can't calm the shivers coursing through my body. It's not the cold. It's his hands on my skin. His breath on my neck. His mouth against mine.
I get into the unmarked car parked not far from the building. I run a hand through my hair, letting out a long sigh, trying to regain my composure. I am a professional. An FBI agent. Not a teenager falling under the spell of a dangerous man.
But Victorio Valenti is not an ordinary man. He is a shadow. A silent threat. A storm ready to break. And I have walked straight into his trap.
I start the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. I need to pull myself together. I am here for a mission. The objective is clear: infiltrate his organization, gather evidence, and bring him down.
So why the hell did I let his mouth possess me like that? Why did I feel that consuming heat, that absolute loss of control?
I shake my head, my jaw clenched. It's just a power game. He's trying to manipulate me. To make me lose my footing. He thinks he has control. He thinks I will bend under temptation.
He doesn't yet know who he's dealing with.
I press the accelerator, the engine growling beneath my feet. Heading to the FBI HQ. I have a report to make — or at least, a watered-down version of what happened. There's no way my superiors are going to find out how compromised I already am.
When I arrive at the FBI building, the atmosphere is as cold and impersonal as usual. The harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the gray corridors, and the tired faces of my colleagues reflect the weight of the work.
— Emily!
I turn to see David, my partner, approaching. Tall, blonde, with a serious face, he is my anchor in this mission. He gives me a worried look.
— Where were you last night? I tried to call you.
I shrug.
— I was out in the field.
— With Victorio Valenti?
My silence is a sufficient answer. He grits his teeth.
— You're playing a dangerous game.
— This isn't a game, David.
— Exactly! He's unpredictable, Emily. Do you really think he's going to let you get close without suspecting something?
I look him in the eyes.
— He's testing me, David. But he suspects nothing.
— And what if he discovers who you are?
I look away.
— He won't discover it.
David sighs, but I see the worry in his eyes. He knows the risks better than anyone. He knows what Victorio is capable of.
— Be careful, Emily. This guy… he's dangerous.
— I know that.
But it's that very danger that draws me to him. Like a drug.
—
Night has fallen when I return to Victorio's club. The building is shrouded in semi-darkness, the red and blue neon lights casting moving shadows on the walls. The atmosphere is heavy, saturated with electronic music and muffled conversations.
I weave my way through the crowd. Male gazes slide over me, but none of them interest me. There is only one I'm looking for.
I find him in the private lounge, surrounded by his henchmen. He is sitting in a black leather chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in hand. His dark gaze catches mine instantly.
— Emily, he says in a low voice.
I step forward, feeling the heat of his gaze brush over every inch of my skin.
— You didn't finish what you started last night, Victorio.
A predatory smile stretches across his lips.
— Really?
He sets down his glass and stands slowly. The other men in the room freeze, sensing the tension rise a notch.
— Everyone out, he orders without taking his eyes off me.
They obey immediately, leaving the room silent.
Victorio approaches, his steel gaze locked on mine.
— You're playing with fire, Emily.
— Maybe I want to burn.
He stops a breath away from me. His hand glides over my cheek, brushes along my jawline, then slowly descends to my throat.
— Do you think you can manipulate me? he whispers.
I place my hand on his chest, feeling the contained power beneath the fabric of his shirt.
— What if it's you who's being manipulated?
His smile darkens. He pins me against the wall, his body pressed against mine. His hot breath crashes against my lips.
— This little game could cost you dearly, Emily.
— Maybe I'm ready to pay the price.
He takes my mouth brutally. His tongue plunges between my lips, demanding, dominant. My hand slides down his neck, my nails digging into his skin.
His hands glide over my hips, then travel up my thighs, lifting my dress. My body arches under his touch. I lose myself in this kiss, unable to resist the heat that overwhelms me.
He lifts me and slams me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist. He growls against my mouth, his hands exploring my skin with raw hunger.
— You're mine, Emily, he growls against my lips.
— Prove it.
He carries me to the sofa, flipping me beneath him. His eyes are dark, burning with desire.
— You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, he murmurs.
— Maybe I do.
He tears the fabric of my dress, revealing my bare skin to the dim light. My breath is short, my pupils dilated. He leans over me, his lips brushing against the skin of my chest.
— Tell me to stop, he murmurs.
— No.
He captures my mouth again, his hand sliding between my thighs. My body opens under his touch. I am lost.
Lost between desire and danger.
I am an FBI agent.
He is a bloodthirsty mobster.
And yet, at this very moment…
I want only one thing: for him to possess me completely.