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"Careful, Dario," my friend teases, unaware of the acquaintance forged between Jasmine and I. "Pandora’s Box and all." He says, winking at me.
"Some risks are worth it," I play it cool, even as I feel an unfamiliar pull in my chest.
"Dario Marchetti," a sultry voice purrs beside me, pulling me from my reverie. I turn to find Kiara Asher, an American Heiress who spends her summers in Italy, her gown a swirl of iridescent blue, her smile promising sins untold. "I was hoping to steal a moment."
"Kiara," I greet her with a nod and a half-smile, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Perhaps a dance? I promise, I won't step on your toes." I fake a polite laugh at her unremarkable joke.
"Regrettably, I must decline," I say, letting charm coat my words. "Duty calls. As you probably are aware, my father runs a tight ship."
"Of course," she replies, not quite masking her disappointment. We make some small talk about how long she plans on staying in Rome, before she walks away. "Another time then, Dario." She drifts away, waving with her fingers.
"Kiara never give up trying," Marco chuckles softly.
I say nothing, my eyes already searching for the woman who stole my breath. My gaze locks onto Jasmine again. She hasn't moved.
Her eyes are still trained on me, those luscious lips parted slightly as if she's feeling the same heady connection I am. I want to stride across the room and claim her, but something stops me. The rules of this delicate dance we've begun demand restraint, patience.
Besides, I still don’t know what she’s doing here, or how it came about that she finds herself in our midst tonight. It might be a little presumptuous of me to think that she’s waiting for me to greet her.
"You know her?" My friend asks, noting my fixation, perhaps realizing she's more than just a random woman who caught my eye.
"Not nearly well enough," I say, feeling the weight of her stare like a physical touch.
"Be careful with black ravens," Marco warns. "They usually mean bad news."
"Bring it on," I murmur, unable to peel my eyes away from her enigmatic allure.
She’s still standing there, staring at me. To my surprise, or perhaps imagination, I notice a flicker of hurt in her eyes.
She’s hurt?
I feel a sudden urge to protect her; to explore her thoughts and feelings and unearth the source of her pain.
Before I can decide whether or not to approach her, Jasmine turns on her heel and makes her way toward the bar. She walks like a woman on a mission.
My gaze follows her every step, lingering on the curve of her hips, the sway of her walk, the swell of her ass. I can't help but imagine what it would feel like to let my hands glide down that delicious derriere, and taste her lips in passionate heat. But first I need to know more about why she’s here before I make my move.
My eyes remain fixed on her, observing as she gracefully leans against the polished counter, ordering a drink. I’m drawn to her, yet I remain rooted to my spot, my obsession intensifying with each passing second.
As she sips her drink, a man in a Tragedy mask approaches her, his intentions clear from the confident swagger in his step. He leans in close to whisper something in her ear, and I can see the tension in her shoulders, the subtle narrowing of her eyes.
I’m about to step forward, but then, without a word, she dismisses him with a flick of her wrist, her expression unyielding.
I smile. Turns out, she might not need me saving her again anytime soon.
Another guy tries his luck after a while, mask long gone, sidling up to her with a predatory grin. Again, Jasmine stands her ground, coolly turning him down.
Brava, Bella. I admire her tenacity and independence. It's not often that a woman can hold her own in a world dominated by men like us. Like me.
It's as though she's searching for someone. I can't help but hope that it's me. Perhaps, if she's so openly rejecting others, she might be open to my advances.
As I circle the bar, observing from a distance, Jasmine turns her head just so, catching my eye for a moment before looking away, a coy smile playing on her lips.
I can't help but wonder if she's been aware that I've been watching her all evening. Is she teasing me, daring me to approach? In this game of seduction and secrecy, Jasmine and I seem to be moving in mirror image to each other.
I feel a shiver run down my spine as our eyes meet again, the electricity between us supercharged even from across the room. With each subtle glance, each stolen moment, we edge closer to one another, our desire building in intensity. And yet, we maintain our distance, neither of us willing to reveal too much, too soon.
