A Dangerous Temptation

Only a few seconds passed before Monica pressed her hands against Davide's chest, trying to push him away, but he only tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer.

Seeing that scumbag kiss Monica with such blatant desire made Marcelo’s blood boil. His eyes darkened, and his hand clenched tightly as he tried to steady himself.

It felt like something inside him had caught fire, burning him from the within . He didn’t understand why he was reacting like this, but the urge to step forward, pull this bastard away from her, and unleash a flurry of punches on him was almost overwhelming.

He forced himself to stay still, gripping his hand tighter, fighting the instinct he knew he had no right to act on.

Realizing he had no intention of letting go, Monica shoved Davide back with all her strength.

She immediately wiped her lips with the back of her hand, glaring at him in disgust.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Davide?" she snapped angrily. "That's not what we agreed on."

Ever since Matteo had introduced Davide to Monica four years ago, she'd consumed his thoughts. Day after day, year after year, he'd wanted her with an obsession he could never shake. To him, Monica was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Davide was handsome and a notorious womanizer, the kind of man women naturally gravitated toward without even trying. He'd had more than enough opportunities with beautiful women, yet none of them had ever stirred the hunger Monica did. Perhaps it was because she'd always been completely out of reach. The more unattainable she was, the more desperately he wanted her.

Perhaps the fact that she was engaged to Sam only intensified his obsession. For a womanizer like him, wanting what belonged to another man had always carried a dangerous allure.

"I’m really sorry, Monica. I just couldn’t control myself. You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this moment," he said, swallowing hard.

"Shh, stop. I don’t want to hear it," she cut him off sharply, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a slow breath to compose herself. "We agreed it was just going to be a picture of us kissing. You asked to kiss me before the shoot as a condition, and I agreed, but that doesn't give you the right to go this far. What you did is considered harassment.

"I’m sorry… really. If you still want the picture, we can do it. I’m ready."

She huffed angrily and reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and opened the camera. When she leaned in to kiss him again, she stopped and raised a finger in warning.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared at him. "Don’t you dare take it that far with me again, or I swear I’ll cut your lips off. It’s just a quick kiss for the photo, nothing more."

"Okay. I won't."

She leaned in and kissed him. "Let’s look at the camera," she said against his lips. "Raise your thumb."

She lifted her own thumb as well, and took the picture.

The moment the shot was taken, she pulled away and turned on her heel.

"Thanks," she said flatly without looking at him.

"Wait, Monica!" he called after her, but she kept walking without once turning back.

She couldn't take her eyes off the photo on her phone as she walked, looking at it with excitement.

She was so distracted by the picture that she didn't notice Marcello until she finally looked up. Her eyes widened in shock, and she stopped when she saw him standing right in front of her.

His arms were folded across his chest, and his face was as unreadable as ever. A deadpan expression masked his features as his gaze slowly traveled over her face, making it impossible for her to tell what was going through his mind.

Acting on pure instinct, she slipped the phone behind her back as though she'd just been caught stealing. Never in her life had she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her more than she did at that moment.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak. "Marcello... you're here?"

she muttered, unable to hide the nervousness in her voice.

Before he could answer, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Davide still standing there, watching her.

"Yes, I'm here, Miss Monica."

The coldness in his voice made her look back at him. She was at a loss for words. It was as though the cat had her tongue.

"Since when?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Since before the photo." His eyes briefly shifted to the phone she was still hiding behind her back, a look of obvious anger crossing his face before he walked past her.

"Did you see everything?" she asked as she followed him, his back turned to her.

She needed to know if he had seen the first kiss. The second one wasn't what worried her as much. It had been very quick and superficial, barely lasting a second.

It was embarrassing, of course, but nowhere near as disastrous as the first one.

"Yes," he replied as he continued walking.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Her voice carried a little annoyance as she caught his arm to stop him.

She looked up at him, raising a finger in warning. "You're not going to tell anyone what you saw."

He sighed in irritation as he ran his fingers through his hair, as if resisting the urge to tear it out. His gaze wandered everywhere but at her. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't tell anyone. It's none of my business."

Then he finally looked at her as he leaned slightly down toward her. "May I leave now?" he snapped.

He didn't wait for her response. He turned and headed into the narrow, dimly lit hallway that led to the stairs, and she quickly followed him.

"Wait, wait... why do I feel like you're angry?" she asked, grabbing his arm again, this time with enough force to make him turn toward her. But the pained groan that escaped him made her flinch and take a step back.

She gasped, covering her mouth when she saw the red stain spreading across his white shirt. He immediately placed his hand over the wound to check it, his face tightening in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice filled with genuine regret.

"Marcello..."

The softness in her voice as she whispered his name made him look into her deep, ocean-colored eyes.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, gently placing her hand near the wound. The concern on her face was impossible to miss.

She was standing incredibly close to him now, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her body against his. Her intoxicating scent surrounded him, making it impossible to focus on anything but her.

And that feeling irritated him more than it should have. It irritated him because it felt like a betrayal of the promise he had made to his mother after her death, the promise to avenge her.

But avenge her from whom?

From the woman standing in front of him, the woman who had managed to capture all his senses? The woman he suddenly wanted to pull against the wall and kiss so badly, just to erase from her memory the kiss of any man other than him.

His thoughts made him instinctively look at her lips, those red lips that seemed as though they were made to be kissed.

He moved closer slowly, almost as if he had lost control of himself, until her back met the wall behind her in the hallway. Placing both hands against the wall, one on either side of her, he caged her between his arms. Then he leaned his head closer with agonizing slowness, his eyes locked on hers as he searched for any sign, anything that would tell him whether to continue or pull away.

Her breath caught for a moment as her gaze remained fixed on his lips, watching them inch closer. She couldn't understand what was keeping her frozen like this, what was making her unable to move or even think clearly.

She wanted to push him away just like she had with Davide. She wanted to slap him and ask how he dared to even think about doing something like this, let alone get this close to her.

But for a moment, she realized she didn't want that. She didn't want him to move away.

She wanted him to kiss her.