Chapter Two- Knives in Velvet
762 Words
The warehouse smelled like gun oil and rain. Rafael stood at the center, arms crossed, eyes locked on the wall of monitors streaming surveillance footage across his empire. Docks. Streets. Clubs. Warehouses. All his.
And now–her.
He replayed the rooftop kiss in his mind, and it pissed him off. Not because it happened, but because it still burned on his mouth like a scar that hadn’t finished forming.
“Why’d you let her walk out of here?” Luca asked. “You could’ve had her followed. Tagged.”
“She wants to be followed,” Rafael muttered. “She’s baiting us.”
“You gonna take the bait?”
“I already did.”
###
Rafael didn’t like being played. Which meant he needed to know everything. Emilia Navarro’s apartment was on the eleventh floor of a converted church. Too poetic for his taste. He watched it from across the street, seated in the back of a black car, windows tinted and engine cold.
Two hours passed.
She didn’t leave.
But the longer he sat there, the more he realized–this wasn’t reconnaissance. This was obsession.
He was losing focus. And he never lost focus.
##
Emilia knew he was watching her.
She brushed her hair back in the mirror, lips parted slightly, applying lipstick with practiced slowness. Deep, sultry crimson. She chose it like a weapon.
Her dress was silk again–his time blood red, sleeveless, backless. A statement.
Look too long, and I’ll haunt you.
She walked into Ombra like she owned it. Again.
This time, Rafael was waiting.
She didn’t flinch when his hand caught her wrist before she reached the bar.
“You have five seconds to tell me why you’re still in my city,” he growled.
She turned toward him, breath brushing against his jaw. “Maybe I like the view.”
He pulled her closer, their bodies brushing. The heat between them was volcanic–barely restrained.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he said.
“I’m not stupid. You’re dangerous. But being afraid of you? That would give you power over me. And I don’t give power freely.”
He dragged her into a private suite behind the bar. Dim lighting. Velvet walls. Soundproof.
He pushed her against the wall–one hand above her head, the other on her waist.
“You came back for this?” he whispered.
“No.” Her voice didn’t shake. “I came back because I have a deal. But if you want this…” Her fingers slid over his belt, slow and sinful. “I won’t stop you.”
Rafael growled–and kissed her.
Hard.
Their mouths clashed with the kind of fury that could only come from two people who should’ve killed each other instead. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on her hip turned bruising. She gasped as his mouth trailed down her neck, biting just below her jawline.
“You’re the enemy,” he muttered against her skin.
“Then f**k me like I am.”
He spun her, pressing her front to the wall. She arched. He dragged the zipper of her dress down with aching slowness.
But just as the tension hit its peak–he stopped.
He stepped back. Hands clenched. Breathing ragged.
“Not yet,” he said.
She turned slowly, dress sliding off one shoulder. “Why not?”
“Because I want to see how long you can stand it.”
She licked her lips. “You think I’m the one unraveling?”
He smiled.
They both were.
###
Later that night, Rafael sat alone in his office.
He’d turned her away.
A mistake? Maybe.
But control meant power. And with her, every second he didn’t touch her felt like a war. A fire under his skin.
Still–he’d learned something.
She wanted him just as badly.
Now all he had to do was use it.
###
Emilia lay on her bed in silence.
He didn’t f**k her. He almost did.
And that… scared her more than if he had.
She’d kissed men before. Used her body like currency. But Rafael Moretti? He wasn’t a man you used.
He was the kind you fell for–and fell apart under.
She stared at the ceiling, her hand brushing the silver chain at her throat.
It wasn’t just a necklace. It was a key.
To the vault her father had left behind. The vault that could either end Rafael–or make him untouchable.
And she hadn’t decided yet.
- Writer
