Victorio
The room is shrouded in a muted darkness, only disturbed by the flickering neon light filtering through the blinds. I am sitting in the leather chair, a glass of whisky in hand, staring into the void.
Emily is gone.
I shouldn't have let her slip away so easily. But I'm starting to understand something fundamental about her: Emily is not the kind of woman you catch by locking her in a cage. She is like a sharp blade — unpredictable, dangerous, and terribly seductive.
She is playing a game. And I'm getting drawn into it.
A light knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Lorenzo peeks his head through the crack.
— Victorio?
— Come in.
He steps inside, closes the door behind him, and settles into the chair opposite me. Lorenzo is my trusted man. A loyal soldier. But tonight, I sense an unusual tension in his gaze.
— Any news? I ask, taking a sip of whisky.
He nods.
— Emily was seen with Rafael.
My expression darkens instantly.
— Where?
— In a downtown café. They spoke discreetly, but our men were watching them.
I set my glass down, my fingers tightening on the edge of the chair.
— What did they say?
Lorenzo hesitates.
— We couldn't hear. But they didn't seem to be exchanging pleasantries.
I clench my jaw.
— Rafael…
That man is a threat. He has always circled around Emily like a vulture, and he's seriously starting to annoy me.
— What do you want to do? Lorenzo asks.
I slowly rise, my cold gaze fixed on the wall in front of me.
— Increase surveillance on Rafael. I want to know where he goes, who he sees, what he eats, when he breathes.
— Understood, capo.
Lorenzo stands, ready to leave, but I hold him back with a gesture.
— And Emily?
— She went home after the meeting.
I think for a moment, my heart racing. She is slipping away from me, slowly but surely.
— I'll take care of her.
Lorenzo offers a faint smile.
— Are you sure you want to play this game with her?
I fix him with a cold stare.
— This is not a game.
He nods and slips away. Once the door is closed, I stand in the middle of the room, my thoughts spiraling.
Emily is hiding something from me.
And I intend to find out what it is.
—
Night has long fallen when I knock on the door of her apartment.
There's a tense silence on the other side. Then, after a few seconds, the door creaks open. Emily appears, wearing a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Her hair is slightly damp, as if she just stepped out of the shower.
Her gaze is cold, but I notice the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers grip the edge of the door.
— What are you doing here? she asks.
I take a step forward.
— Let me in.
She furrows her brow.
— It's late.
— So what?
A tense silence settles. Then she sighs, opens the door wide, and lets me pass.
The apartment is dimly lit, illuminated only by a weak lamp near the couch. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air — that intoxicating mix of jasmine and vanilla that seeps under my skin.
— You can't just show up at my place like this, she snaps, closing the door behind her.
— Why not?
I turn to face her. She is leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
— Because I'm not at your disposal.
I slowly approach, closing the distance between us.
— You were with Rafael today.
Her eyes darken.
— Are you following me?
— Yes.
She laughs lightly, a sound devoid of warmth.
— You're acting like a jealous man.
— Maybe I am.
She looks up at me, defiant.
— That's not healthy, Victorio.
— Nothing in my life has ever been healthy.
I reach out and brush my fingers against her cheek. She shivers slightly but doesn't pull away.
— What did he want? I ask softly.
— It's none of your business.
I move closer, until our bodies are almost pressed against each other.
— Everything that concerns you is my business.
She takes a deep breath, her gaze lingering on my lips.
— You're possessive, she murmurs.
— And you are mine.
She laughs again, but this time, there's a note of vulnerability in her voice.
— Do you think you can possess me?
— I know I can.
I slide my fingers into her hair, gently tilting her head back. She lets out a faint moan, her breath quickening.
— You're playing a dangerous game, Emily.
— And you think you can control me?
I smile darkly.
— I'm going to do much more than that.
My lips crash against hers with controlled brutality. She responds immediately, clinging to my collar, her nails digging into my neck.
I push her against the door, one hand slipping under her t-shirt, meeting the warmth of her bare skin. She moans against my mouth, but she doesn't push me away.
— Tell me what he wanted, I murmur against her lips.
— Go to hell, she hisses.
I smile against her mouth.
— Wrong answer.
I suddenly lift her up, cradling her in my arms. She lets out a cry of surprise as I carry her toward the bedroom.
— Victorio!
I set her down on the bed, my hands framing her face.
— Last chance.
She stares at me, breathless.
— You can't force me to talk.
I slide my hand down her thigh, my lips brushing against her neck.
— No. But I can make you lose control.
She shivers, but her gaze remains hard.
— You think you have the upper hand?
I smile.
— I know I do.
She gently pushes me away, rising up on her elbows.
— Keep believing that, Victorio.
She stands up, leaving me there, breathless, desire burning in my veins.
I watch her disappear into the bathroom, and I smile.
Emily still thinks she can win this game.
She has no idea what awaits her.