ALINA'S POV
The gown clung to me like a secret. Midnight velvet, slit scandalously high, low neckline daring enough to silence a room. My fingers smoothed the fabric over my hips as I caught my reflection in the mirror. A wicked smile curved my lips.
Tonight wasn’t about looking beautiful.
It was about power.
I wanted him—Señor Álvarez Alejandro Cortez III—to feel it. To feel me. To burn under the weight of wanting, to crack beneath the cool mask he wore so damn well. He had kissed me once, commanded me with words that made my chest tighten and my thighs clench. But then he called me… friend.
Friend.
I wasn’t his friend. Not in my veins, not in my fantasies, not in the way his kiss still haunted my mouth. If he wanted to pretend distance, I’d make him choke on it.
“Push him,” I whis
