A smirk tugs at my mouth.
I don’t hesitate. I type:
‘Come back here around 6.’
The message sends, and I watch the screen like it’s going to breathe.
The typing bubbles appear. Disappear. Come back again. My heart beats harder than I want it to.
And then, finally, her answer:
‘Maybe.’
That one word.
Teasing. Unbothered. In control.
Damn.
She’s good.
Chapter 4
Scarlet
Sneaking back into the hotel isn’t hard. The lobby smells like stale perfume and desperation. My heels echo against the marble floor, too loud, too guilty, but I have a room to myself, and no one notices me slip in looking like an exhausted ghost of bad decisions. I shower quickly, scrubbing off the scent of spiced tobacco that still lingers on my skin, though part of me doesn’t want it gone.
The moment I collapse face-first onto the bed, I swear I’ll just rest my eyes for a second.
Bam bam bam
The door nearly splits in half from the force of someone’s fist.
I groan, rolling over with a pounding head and squint at my phone.
7 A.M
Kill me.
I shuffle to the door and crack it open. Luciano’s infuriating face is the first thing I see. Glaring.Judging.Already ready to ruin my morning.
“What do you want?” I whine, already over it.
“Where the hell were you?” he bites out, pushing past me before I can stop him.
“What? What are you talking about?” I blink, playing dumb, poorly.
He doesn’t answer. Just stalks through my room, throwing open the bathroom door, checking under the bed like I’m hiding a man under there.
The audacity.
He straightens the lapel of his overpriced jacket, the whisper of fine wool scraping over silk and ego like he hasn’t just broken into my personal space. His cologne hits me next, sharp, expensive, and entirely unwelcome, then turns back to me, calm. Too calm.
I take a step back.
“Don’t play fucking games, Adriana,” he says, voice low, dangerous. “Where were you?”
He’s inches from my face. And while Luciano and I usually have a good rapport when I’m out for a night, something in his tone makes me choose self-preservation over truth.