CHAPTER 15: A Dance With Temptation

Marco leaned in, his nose brushing against mine, his breath warm and intoxicating. My own breath hitched, my lips parting instinctively.

And then—

He pulled away.

A slow, deliberate retreat, his lips curving into something smug, something wicked.

Heat flared in my cheeks as frustration tangled with the ache in my chest.

“Are you—” I swallowed, gripping the fabric of my dress. “Are you teasing me?”

Marco smirked. “Maybe.”

I narrowed my eyes, but before I could retort, he leaned in again, his fingers brushing against my wrist, his voice a low murmur against my ear.

“But when I finally take what I want, Mia,” he whispered, “you won’t be questioning anything.”

My stomach flipped, my skin burning where he touched me.

And just like that, he straightened, composed as ever, like he hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down.

I exhaled shakily, my heart still racing as he walked ahead, effortlessly slipping back into conversation with the next person who approached him.

I, on the other hand, was drowning in the aftermath.

The gala continued around me, a blur of clinking glasses, laughter, and murmured conversations, but I barely registered any of it.

Not when Marco’s words still echoed in my mind.

“You’ve made me want.”

“But when I finally take what I want, Mia, you won’t be questioning anything.”

My hands trembled slightly as I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, hoping the cool stem would ground me. But even as I sipped, the bubbles fizzing on my tongue, nothing could shake the feeling that Marco had just set something in motion—something dangerous, something inevitable.

I tried to focus on my surroundings. The room was filled with powerful people—business moguls, politicians, celebrities—each lost in their own world of influence and wealth. Yet the only one who had my full attention was the man who had effortlessly unraveled me.

Marco.

He was across the room now, engaged in conversation with an older gentleman who I vaguely recognized from the business world. But even as he spoke, his eyes flickered to mine, sharp and deliberate.

A silent reminder.

A silent promise.

I exhaled, setting my untouched drink down. My body was still humming from our exchange, my skin too hot despite the perfectly cooled air in the venue.

I needed air.

Without thinking, I turned on my heel and made my way toward the grand balcony doors, slipping outside into the night. The cool breeze kissed my skin, a stark contrast to the fire Marco had ignited within me.

I leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply. I needed to get a grip. To remind myself that this—whatever this was—was a game I had no business playing.

But then—

The door behind me clicked open.

And I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

I felt him.

Marco.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

Marco closed the distance between us in one slow, deliberate step. His fingers traced the bare skin of my arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“I don’t think you really want air, tesoro,” he murmured, his voice like silk and sin.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “And what do you think I want?”

His lips tilted into a knowing smirk, but there was something darker in his gaze—something that sent a thrill down my spine. “Me.”

The word was a statement, not a question.

My breath caught as he reached up, fingers grazing my jaw before tilting my chin toward him. His touch was gentle, but his grip was firm, making sure I was looking at him—really looking at him.

And God, he was beautiful.

The sharp cut of his jaw, the intensity in his stormy eyes, the way his lips hovered just inches from mine. Every part of him exuded control, dominance, but it was the restraint in his touch that sent a shiver through me.

I should step away. I should remind myself that Marco Valentino was dangerous. That getting too close to him was like dancing on the edge of a knife.

But instead, I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do.

I leaned in.

His breath hitched—just for a second—but I caught it. And then, his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me closer.

I wasn’t thinking anymore.

I wasn’t worried about the consequences, about the warnings screaming in the back of my mind.

I just wanted to know.

Know how it felt to be desired by a man like Marco Valentino.

His lips brushed against mine, teasing, testing, and I exhaled a shaky breath, my fingers instinctively gripping his jacket. He was holding back—I could feel it in the way his body tensed, in the way his thumb traced slow, lazy circles against my skin.

And then, as if something inside him snapped, he kissed me.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was fire and possession, a slow-burning hunger that sent shockwaves through my body.

His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I felt the full force of him—his warmth, his strength, his restraint unraveling with every second that passed.

A soft moan escaped my lips, and Marco growled low in response, his grip tightening.

Damn.

I was in trouble.

Because kissing Marco Valentino wasn’t just a kiss.

It was surrender.

Marco deepened the kiss, his lips moving with a slow, devastating precision that made my knees weak. His hand at my waist slid lower, his fingers pressing into my hip like he was anchoring himself—or maybe he was anchoring me.

I melted into him, my hands slipping up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jacket as if that could steady the storm brewing inside me. The scent of him—dark spice and something dangerously intoxicating—wrapped around me, making it impossible to think.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let me breathe, his forehead rested against mine. His chest rose and fell in sync with mine, both of us caught in something we couldn’t quite name.

I opened my eyes, meeting the intense gaze that held me captive. His thumb brushed along my jaw, his voice low, almost reverent.

“I should stop.”

But he didn’t move away.

I swallowed, my own voice barely above a whisper. “Then why don’t you?”

His lips curled into the faintest smirk, but there was something darker behind it. Something dangerous.

“Because I don’t want to.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

This was dangerous territory, and I knew it. I knew Marco wasn’t a man who played fair, who took things lightly. And yet, standing there, wrapped in his presence, I wasn’t sure I cared.

And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get myself back.

Just when I thought he might kiss me again, A sharp voice cut through the haze between us.

“Mr. Valentino.”

Marco’s hold on my waist tightened briefly before he exhaled and stepped back, his gaze flickering with irritation.

I turned to see an older man in a sleek black suit standing just beyond the entrance to the balcony. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was something sharp in his eyes, something that told me he wouldn’t have interrupted unless it was important.

Marco didn’t move for a second, his jaw tightening as if debating whether to ignore him entirely. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightened, smoothing a hand down his jacket.

“What is it?” His voice was cool, composed, but there was an edge to it—one that made the man hesitate before answering.

“There’s someone you need to see. Now.”

I felt Marco’s hesitation, the way his body remained angled toward me, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go of whatever had just happened between us.

He reached up, brushing his knuckles against my jaw in a brief, almost possessive touch before dropping his hand.

“Stay here,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, meant only for me.

I nodded, even though the absence of his warmth already made my skin prickle with something close to disappointment.

Marco turned, his entire demeanor shifting the moment he stepped past the doorway—back to the controlled, dangerous man the rest of the world saw.

I took a shaky breath, gripping the cool railing behind me. The city lights stretched below, a breathtaking sight, but all I could focus on was the lingering sensation of his lips, his touch, his words.

I should have been relieved for the interruption.

Instead, all I could think about was what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted at all.

I stayed on the balcony, the cool night air doing little to calm the fire Marco had ignited inside me.

A part of me told me to leave—to walk back inside, find an excuse, and go home before I got in too deep.

But I didn’t move.

Because deep down, I knew it was already too late.

Minutes passed. Then more. The sound of laughter and music from the ballroom barely registered in my ears. My mind was elsewhere—on the man who had just walked away, on the way his touch had lingered, as if he hadn’t wanted to leave either.

And then, just as I was about to step back inside, I caught a glimpse of him.

Marco.

Standing at the far end of the ballroom, his expression dark, unreadable. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and for the first time since I met him, he looked… unsettled.

Something was wrong.