Page 48

“You?”

“That’s a question, princess. A piece of advice: when you come for me, you better be goddamn sure.”

I swallow hard. “Are we still talking about this…thing between us or something else?”

He studies me for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “You tell me.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. And I know I should be afraid, but all I feel is the pull—stronger than ever—to step closer to him, to see how far I can push before he pushes back.

He flicks ash from his cigarette. “What do you want, Daniela?”

“To prove you wrong,” I reply.

His brows lift just slightly. “About what?”

“That I’m not some delicate flower who needs saving.”

I pull off my heels, the cool grass grounding me. “You think you know me, Remo, but you don’t. You don’t know what I’ve survived.”

“And you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

“Maybe.”

He stands, towering over me. “Then tell me, what am I?”

The words bubble up before I can stop them. “You’re dangerous. Ruthless. But you’re not empty. Not entirely.”

I think about everything I’ve heard about him. The rumors, the whispers of a man who trusts no one and never lets his guard down. Remo doesn’t just survive in this world. He rules it, bending others to his will with calculated moves and merciless decisions. A man like him doesn’t care what someone like me thinks. Not really. And yet, for reasons I can’t explain, I need him to hear me.

For a split second, I think I see something shift in his expression—a flicker of something human and vulnerable beneath the hard exterior. But it’s gone so fast that I wonder if I imagined it.

He crushes the cigar under his shoe, grinding it into the pavement with deliberate force before stepping closer.

“Careful, Daniela,” he says, his voice rough, almost a growl—the kind of tone that sends a shiver down your spine whether you want it to or not. “Terrible things happen to people who think they know me.”

I don’t flinch, though every nerve in my body tells me I should. Instead, I hold my ground, meeting his icy stare with a defiance I don’t entirely feel.

“Maybe I don’t care,” I say stubbornly.

My pulse pounds as he steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint scar cutting through his jaw.

“You should,” he says softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.

The moment stretches, taut and electric, before I break it.

I lean closer, rising up on my tiptoes to gently press my lips against his. His lips are soft, with a hint of whiskey lingering on them. At first, the kiss is shy, with him remaining stiff against me. But suddenly, it feels like a switch is flipped, and we lose ourselves in each other. His tongue meets mine, filled with raw, animalistic desire. He pushes against me, kissing me passionately and groaning even as I feel myself grow wetter. Inibble at his lips, urging him to let out another low moan, and then I reach down to palm his growing erection through his pants.

“Daniela—”

“I know what I want,” I reply, my voice strong. “I want to pleasure you tonight, Remo. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll make it happen. I’ll do anything for you.”

He wraps his hand around my throat, his grip firm, and I gasp at the thrill of it. His eyes darken as he stares down at me. “I love how eager you are. And your body…you’re so incredibly tempting, princess.”

Why do I like this so much? I’m supposed to be pretending to enjoy this, but when he speaks to me like that or grabs me as if I might run away, I become delirious with desire. “Tell me how to make you come.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Remo undoes his belt and pushes his pants down slightly, revealing his cock as it springs free from his boxers. He strokes himself, his eyes locked on me and lips parted, burning with desire. Pre-cum glistens at the tip of his magnificent shaft, which he rubs around the pink head. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

His cock is long and hard, stiff against the cool night air. I kneel in the soft grass, staring at his throbbing erection. Remo’s skin is a warm bronze, perfectly tanned, matching the color of his shaft except for the inviting pink head. Riddled with veins, it’s clear he craves release as desperately as he needs air. He smells divine—vanilla, expensive cologne, and pure masculinity.