Page 156 of The Wicked
He was up to something.
Or maybe he does like my company?
I hate compromises, and that was one of the main reasons I was putting up with his weird idea of foreplay. I needed to get him out of my system. The fact that this wasn’t me was the most daunting part.
I’d never outright wanted anyone’s touch like I wanted Elio’s. Devil was convenient, Manuel was necessary, and the selected few others were mainly by choice.
But Elio… God, he evoked what I could only name as pure desire, and yes, the feeling scared me.
A soldier led me inside the plane, which was minimal, very clean and private, like an en-suite lounge area with golden lights and white leather seats. It smelled divine and had a warm, cozy feel to it. I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming around the space as the man led me down a small compartment until he pushed open a door, and I was in an even more private room. It was the same design as the other area we had just come through, but the smell was different, familiar. And I soon registered why after seeing Elio’s figure in the corner, an unlit cigar between his lips, book in hand, wearing a black men’s turtleneck and black pants.
He didn’t look up, even as the soldier announced my presence and left me alone with him.
I took the liberty of settling in the chair opposite him, appreciating the comfort of the leather and how appetizing the man sitting atop it was.
My God.He was handsome; it was so unfair. He had an engrossing aura, which was doing funny things to my stomach and the back of my spine.
“Zahra,” he said in greeting, his eyes going over the page.
“Marino,” I responded, and he looked up finally.
“Don’t call…” He trailed off, eyes taking me in slowly before he completed his statement: “… me that.”
“Okay,Dad.”
His stare hardened, and he looked back at his book. “Stop,” he muttered.
I smiled at him… genuinely. “Any reason your cigar isn’t lit?”
“Still figuring out if I should light it.”
“Right.” My gaze dropped to a black device on the table. “I thought you said you didn’t have a phone?”
“It’s new,” he said, discarding the cigar.
“Oh, what made you get one?” I made conversation because, yes, sue me, he might be infuriating and might end up at the end of my barrel when push came to shove, but I liked talking to him too.
Despite what Casmiro felt about me getting close to Elio, I knew something was there. If we did away with the inconvenient physical attraction, we could be friends… cordial, at least.
His gaze flickered to me and then to the phone.
I raised a brow at the conflict in his eyes, and then he closed the book, placing it beside the phone as he said, “Because almost everyone I know has one.”
“Cool… want my number?” I asked.
His eyes took me in again, and he seemed confused. “What for?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, we could be text buddies since we’re like—trying to be friends—”
What’s wrong with my voice?
“Thank you, but I have no use for your number.”
It was like someone had punched my chest in. “Ouch.”
“I meant that politely. If I ever need it, I’ll ask for it.”
Forcing on a smile, I shifted uncomfortably. “Right,” I said, looking out the side window, seeing everyone gearing up for the flight to take off.
