🔥 Chapter 20 - "Ashes Beneath the Kiss "
984 Words
Her lips were still warm when he pulled back.
Not abruptly. Not gently either.
Just enough to break the seal between them.
For a moment they stayed there—breaths tangled, foreheads almost touching, the echo of the kiss still moving between them like a live current.
She was the first to move.
Marco stepped aside without a word.
He didn’t touch her as she slipped past him, but the brush of air where her body had been felt like something stolen. She walked to the narrow metal bench bolted to the wall and sat down, hands folding into her lap as if that could contain what had just happened.
Silence thickened.
He didn’t look away.
She felt it.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” she said, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re replaying it.”
His mouth tilted slightly. “I am.”
Her cheeks warmed instantly. She hated that he could see it. Hated that he always noticed.
“Stop,” she muttered.
He didn’t.
He leaned back against the steel wall instead, arms folding loosely over his chest, studying her like she was something rare he hadn’t decided whether to protect or ruin.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
It wasn’t teasing.
It wasn’t strategic.
It was worse. It was honest.
Her head turned sharply away, but she couldn’t stop the small smile that betrayed her. It curved at the corner of her mouth before she could swallow it down.
“You’re impossible,” she whispered.
“Mm.”
The radio at his hip crackled suddenly, sharp and intrusive in the tight room.
Both of them stiffened.
“Marco,” a voice hissed through static. “Status.”
His expression changed in an instant. The softness shuttered. The edge returned.
He lifted the radio. “Clear so far.”
“Movement east corridor. Check it.”
“Copy.”
The safe room felt colder immediately.
He crossed to the concealed panel near the door, fingers finding the hidden knob embedded in the seam of steel. A subtle twist. A muted click.
Before opening it, he looked at her.
“Wait here,” he said. Calm. Commanding. “I’ll check and I’m coming back.”
Her composure cracked just slightly.
“How long?”
“Minutes.”
She stood without realizing she had, anxiety flickering across her face before she could bury it.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
He stepped back toward her, closing the space again—but differently this time. No tension. No game.
He took her arms gently, steady hands wrapping around her just above the elbows.
“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low.
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
His thumbs brushed once against her sleeves, grounding. Then his hand lifted, fingers sliding briefly along her temple as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The touch was softer than the kiss had been.
More dangerous because of it.
“I’ll be right outside,” he murmured.
Her eyes searched his.
“Come back,” she said quietly.
A pause.
“I always do.”
He stepped away before she could answer that.
The door opened with a controlled whisper of metal. Cold air slipped in from the corridor beyond. He gave her one last look—measured, certain—then slipped out.
The door sealed shut.
The lock engaged.
And she was alone with the echo of his mouth and the steady pounding of her heart.
---
When the door sealed shut behind him, the silence shifted.
It wasn’t empty.
It was hers.
Alina stood there for a long moment, listening to the fading echo of his footsteps beyond the steel. Waiting until she was certain he was far enough.
Then—
She smiled.
Not soft. Not shy.
Curious.
“I did,” she whispered to herself.
Her fingers lifted slowly to her lips, brushing over the place where his mouth had been. Not tenderly. Not longing.
Assessing.
“He is mine,” she murmured under her breath. “He’s already in my hand.”
Her smile deepened, colder now.
“Just wait sometime, Alina,” she told herself quietly. “Just a little more.”
She wiped her lips once with the pad of her thumb, as if clearing away evidence. As if sealing away weakness.
Then she walked back to the bench and sat down, drawing her knees to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them tightly, chin resting against bone.
The room felt smaller again.
But this time, it wasn’t because of him.
Her mind drifted where she rarely allowed it to go.
Her family.
Her husband.
The night everything burned.
The child that never breathed.
Her throat tightened—but no tears fell.
She saw flashes the way trauma shows itself—uninvited, sharp. The villa in flames. The smell of smoke. The sound of gunfire ripping through music. Blood where there should have been white silk.
His family.
Marco’s family.
The name tasted like rust.
They had taken everything.
And now?
Now their strongest weapon was standing in a hallway outside this door… touching her hair like he had a right to it.
Her eyes burned red, but she blinked the heat away.
No crying.
She had buried that girl in the ashes of her wedding dress.
The woman sitting in this room was different.
Colder.
Smarter.
And patient.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her knees.
“You don’t get to ruin me twice,” she whispered.
Somewhere beyond the steel walls, boots echoed again.
Alina lifted her head slowly.
Let him think he was in control.
Let him believe the kiss meant something more than strategy.
She would use his restraint.
His desire.
His need to protect.
And when the time came—
She would decide whether to break him.
Or own him completely.
- Writer
