Chapter 7

7: Fear or envy

Livia's point of view

I still sit in the living room, the nerves in bulk, trying to calm the frantic beats of my heart. Madame Isabella has just got into her room, leaving us alone. Alone. With him. 

I feel his presence before I even see him move. A thrill travels me when I hear the sound of his chair that slides on the ground. It rises slowly, with this calculated, almost feline approach. My fingers tense on the fabric of my dress when I realize that he comes straight to me. I raise my head, and her dark and piercing gaze fixes himself on mine. 

- You are daring, Livia. 

His voice is serious, posed, but there is a dangerous glow in his eyes. I straighten myself instinctively, but before I could take a step, he is already there. Everything goes too fast. 

His hands grab my wrists, and in one movement, he plays me against the living room wall. 

The impact is soft, but the tension is brutal. His body is so close to mine that I feel the heat it gives off. My breath cuts. His powerful chest slightly touches my chest, and his fingers are tightening on my wrists, preventing me from moving. I try to struggle myself, but it is only a reflex. He is too strong. His gaze goes down slowly to my lips, then goes back to my eyes. 

-How did you dare stand up to my mother? he whispers, his vibrant voice with controlled anger. 

I swallow with difficulty. I should be afraid. I should. 

But all that I feel right now is a mixture of adrenaline and raw desire. His rage, his domination, this overwhelming tension between us ... It attracts me as much as it terrifies me. I don't answer. I can't. Because my gaze is irreparably attracted by his mouth. 

He knows it. 

A smirk stretches her lips, a dangerous smile. My belly tightens violently. 

- You don't say anything anymore? 

Its warm breath touch my skin. My heart drumm in my chest. He feels it. I know he feels it. His grip on my cakes relaxes slightly, but he does not back down. 

I could go away ... 

I could ... but I don't want to. Everything in me screams that I should flee this situation. But my lips open slightly, in search of the air he takes me by his mere presence. Our mouths are dangerously close. Too close. 

One centimeter. Pan less. I could kiss her. 

I want to kiss her. And this thought terrifies me as much as it excites me. I close my eyes a fraction of a second. 

And that’s when he gets back slightly. His absence is a shock. My skin shivers, as if it demanded the heat it has just stolen from it. 

Then, with a calculated slowness, he slides a hand under my legs and lifts me suddenly. 

A little cry escapes me under surprise. He catches me with disconcerting ease and plays me again against the wall, this time now at me at his height. My hands instinctively land on his shoulders to regain my balance. 

Bad idea. They are hard. Burning. And when he looks at me again, his expression has changed. It’s not just anger. It’s something else. Something indefinable ... but burning. My body is trapped, suspended between fear and envy. 

-You play a dangerous game, Livia, he whispers, her hoarse voice crossing me right through. 

He sets me intensely, perhaps waiting for a reaction. But I don't say anything. I can't say anything. My breath is short, my cheeks on fire. My legs are always surrounded by his arms, and the pressure he exerts against me gives birth to chills that I should not feel. 

His gaze softens a fraction of a second. Then, in a gesture as brutal as it is outstanding, he rests me on the ground, breaking the contact. 

I slightly chance, taking it short. 

- Good night, servant. 

His tone is mocking, but there is no more anger in his voice. 

He straightens up, throwing me a last look before turning my heels. I stay there, glued to the wall, my heart beating at a frantic pace. 

What just happened? I close my eyes, placing a trembling hand on my chest. I try to calm my breathing. I try to forget the warmth of her body. I'm trying to forget her gaze. But one thing is certain ... Alessandro is a problem. A problem that I am terribly tempted to explore. 

I sigh by stacking the plates, my mind still confused by what has just happened in the living room. My heart drumm always against my chest while my hands are mechanically activated. 

I just want to put it all away and get into my room. And forget Alessandro ... at least try. 

But as I hold out my hand to catch the last plate, a roar makes me jump. I look up. A phone is based on the table. It still vibrates. 

Shit. 

Why does he always have to forget something, this one? 

I take a look around me, secretly hoping that he came back to seek him for himself. But nothing. The house is strangely silent. I pinch my lips, before catching the device. An iPhone. The last model, of course. 

I turn it over in my hand, the screen lights up for a moment before going out. My reflection appears a fraction of a second. 

I sigh. I'm going to have to go up. I take a great inspiration and head for the stairs, already feeling my belly for the idea to face it again. My steps resonate slightly on the parquet while I go up. 

Arriving in front of his door, I hesitate. I could put the phone in front and run away. But if someone else goes before him, it wouldn't be very smart. Come on, Livia. 

I hit slowly. A few seconds flow. Then the door opens. And I freeze. Shit. 

He's there. 

Dressed in light gray pajamas, but it is his chest that my eyes immediately capture. The dragon. This impressive tattoo, which seems almost alive on its skin. The subdued light of his room accentuates the shadows on his muscles, making each line even more marked. 

Damn it. 

My gaze drifts in spite of me, touching the eye inked on his skin. I have a stupid desire. Reflected. I want to put my hand on his chest. To feel your warmth under my fingers. To smooth the dragon's rage under my palm. 

-What do you want? 

His voice suddenly derives me from my thoughts. I blink, realizing how it was staring at him, fantasizing about him. Shit, shit, shit. I straighten up a little too quickly, and my fingers are tightening nervously around the phone. 

- Uh ... you forgot that. 

My voice trembles slightly, and I hate myself for that. I hold the aircraft towards him, carefully avoiding his gaze. He grabs him with his fingertips, slowly. 

- THANKS. 

A simple word. Sharp. Detached. But the worst is his look. Cold. Elusive. He scrutinizes me as if he was trying to read through me. My belly contracts, and the desire to flee immediately takes me. I step back a step. But I'm still there. Always planted in front of him. 

Why don't I go? I feel it raised an eyebrow, as if he had just asked the same question. 

- Is that all? He asks in a nonchalant tone. 

Then, after a short break, he adds, mocking:

- Or don't you want to leave? 

My cheeks get started immediately. 

- Pardon ! I said rushed, taking a step back. 

But as I turn to escape, his hand closes on my arm. A firm socket. Not brutal. 

But uncompromising. I freeze. 

My breath cuts. 

I feel the heat of her palm against my bare skin. My heart explodes in my chest. Gently, I turn to him. Our eyes meet. His grip does not weaken. 

He holds me back. And in his eyes, a dangerous glow dance. 

A thrill crosses me. I am stuck. There, facing him. Stuck between fear and envy. And I no longer know which one is the strongest.