ADANNA-
She slowly opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, a strange faint light, and a vast bed that made her feel even smaller in its expanse. A dull ache pounded in her head, and her mouth felt dry and sticky.
Panic set in as she scrambled to remember how she got here and the events that led to her waking up in this bed.
"I was just talking to the room service, and then... I don't remember what happened."
Her eyes roamed the room. It was large and exquisitely furnished with cream-colored walls and antique objects that looked like they cost a fortune.
Then, like a punch to the face, it hit her. The man from the other room. The missing pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, though confusion still clouded her mind. A sudden wave of fear gripped her. Instinctively, she reached for the pocket knife strapped to her thigh and was relieved to find it still in place. That should have relaxed her, but it only heightened her anxiety. Who am I dealing with? she wondered, her mind racing through the list of enemies she had made.
She stood abruptly, intending to leave, but just as she reached for the handle, the door swung open.
And then she saw him.
He looked like a demigod. His piercing blue gaze seemed to strip her bare, seeing right through her, unraveling layers of her existence she had yet to comprehend. He had chiseled features, a sharp jawline, and a perfectly proportioned nose that made him look like a Greek statue brought to life. His dark hair was tousled, messy yet effortlessly appealing, as if he had just rolled out of bed. His lips—full, inviting—curled into a hint of a smirk that sent her stomach into an uncontrollable flutter.
He stood tall, his broad shoulders and strong chest evident even under his fitted shirt. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and for a brief moment, she felt her knees weaken. There was something about him—confidence, authority, danger.
She took a step back, feeling a mixture of emotions she shouldn't have been feeling. The air between them crackled with tension. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She caught a whiff of his scent—a blend of leather, wood, and something uniquely masculine. Her senses went into overdrive.
She knew, in that instant, that she was in serious trouble.
"I am Lorenzo," he said, his voice like a slow-burning fire—warm, inviting, yet laced with danger. It was the kind of voice that could melt steel, smooth and velvety with a subtle roughness that sent shivers down her spine. It was a warning, a promise, a temptation all in one.
LORENZO
As he gazed at her, he was struck by the sheer intensity of her beauty.
Her skin was a rich, dark brown, glowing with an inner radiance. Her features were both delicate and chiseled—high cheekbones, a small nose, and full, trembling lips that were a captivating shade of deep red.
Her hair was a wild tangle of black curls, thick and luxurious. It framed her face like a halo, drawing attention to her piercing dark eyes—eyes that were like polished onyx stones, glistening with intelligence, dulled only by what he suspected was fear. And for some inexplicable reason, he hated being the cause of it. There was something about her gaze that made him feel as though she was constantly hiding secrets behind those dark, velvety depths.
She was tall and elegant, her movements fluid, almost feline. Even in her current situation, she carried herself with the grace and dignity of a queen
He was captivated. Entranced. Bewitched. And he knew, in that moment, that he needed to know her. To unravel the mystery behind those dark, alluring eyes.
Her gaze traveled from his head to his feet, as though assessing him, and he smirked in amusement. But he wasn't here for games.
"And you are?" he asked.
"I'm Juliet," she lied smoothly. "And I want to know why I'm here." Her voice was sharp, her accent thick and mesmerizing, rolling her words in a way that made him momentarily distracted.
He chuckled. "I think you already know why you're here. But I'll save us the time and stress of pretending otherwise. Nobody messes with my family and walks away unscathed, young lady. It's either you go down alone, or you start talking."
She crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "I believe you're an intelligent man, Mister... Lorenzo," she said, dragging out his name with an infuriatingly seductive lilt. "I don't mix business with pleasure. I might be a woman, but I think with my head, not my heart."
His eyes flickered to her chest, which was rising and falling with her rapid breaths. His focus wavered, but he quickly forced his gaze back to her face. A surge of irritation coursed through him. He didn't like how she was affecting him.
With a sudden burst of frustration, he slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room. She flinched slightly but recovered just as quickly.
"Signore, abbi pietà," he muttered under his breath before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.
ADANNA
As soon as he left, she smacked her forehead, frustrated with herself.
She had taken in every tiny detail about him—his subtle movements, the way he tapped his foot when angry, and, worst of all, how incredibly sexy he sounded when he spoke Italian. Having lived in Italy for years, she had always loved the language. It was a dance of sounds, a smooth blend of consonants and vowels. But when he spoke it? It did crazy things to her body.
She looked up at the ceiling and muttered a silent prayer for focus. Whatever spell this man had, she needed to break free from it before it consumed her.
Feeling the sweat trickling down her spine, she wondered why the tension in that room had felt thick enough to slice through, even though the air conditioning was on full blast. Shaking her head, she walked over to the wardrobe and smirked dryly. The clothes inside were her exact size.
How convenient.
Choosing not to dwell on it, she grabbed a fresh outfit and headed for the bathroom.
LORENZO
He stormed into his own room, staring down at the growing bulge in his pants, and let out a frustrated groan. He couldn't believe she was having such effect on him , he wasn't one to get sexually attracted to random women easily.
His senses were on fire, his body betraying him. The memory of her scent, her voice, the fire in her eyes—it was all too much. He needed to purge himself of whatever effects she was having on him , only one name stood out in his mind
Grabbing his phone, he dialed a number.
"Hello, sugarplum," came the sultry voice on the other end. "I'm awed and honored to be the one you called on this chilly night."
"I'm sending my driver to pick you up," he said gruffly and ended the call.
Loosening his tie, he sat down, trying-failing- to push the image of her out of his mind .