Whispers of Love

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The night draped itself slowly over Los Angeles like a velvet curtain, soft and deliberate, swallowing the last streaks of sunset behind the skyline. I stood in front of the mirror in my private suite inside Ambrosia’s dressing wing, my hands resting lightly on the table, staring at my reflection as though it was someone I no longer recognized.

I looked beautiful. Not the type of beauty that begged for validation or attention but crafted and controlled.

A gold silk gown, long and fluid, reaching all the way to the floor. My hair fell free tonight, long and dark, my makeup was done with calculated intention, bold lips, dark eyes like the midnight ocean, the kind of eyes men are drown in before they realized they were sinking.

This wasn’t for him, I told myself repeatedly.This was business, this was work, with time, payment and delivery.

Michael. I hated that name now, I forced a breath.“No surprises,” Don Luca had said to me.So tonight there would be none.I grabbed my purse, inhaling slowly, and walked out.

He lived in a hilltop mansion that overlooked LA like a king who didn’t need to announce his kingdom. His security was invisible yet breathing through the silent darkness. This was not the house of a random wealthy client and when the door opened, it was only him standing there. Alone.

He didn’t blink at the sight of me. But his eyes moved slowly like he was memorizing the moment with terrifying precision. “Marah,” he said softly.

I stepped inside, pretending not to feel the tension under my skin. The air smelled expensive like leather, aged whiskey, cedarwood, and something dangerously clean.

I kept my gaze forward and sharp, not his eyes.

I reminded myself, do not soften.

He motioned toward a couch. “Do you want to sit?”“I don’t plan to stay long,” I replied evenly.

He studied my face and said nothing at first. His silence filled the room like a slow poison. I felt my pulse betray me. My throat tightened. I hated how aware I was of my own heartbeat around him.

He took a step closer, slow, unrushed, like he was handling something fragile.“You look extraordinary tonight,” he said quietly.

“It’s not for you,” I fired back instantly. It came out sharper than I intended.

He didn’t twitch . “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”

I closed my eyes for a second.

It annoyed me deeply, how his tone wasn’t lustful or cheap or assessing.

It sounded like recognition.

No. I wouldn’t allow that, I took a single step backward and reached for the zipper on my dress.

His eyes flickered, but not with the reaction men usually had. Not hunger, not victory, it was something else. Something unreadable.

My hands went behind me. I pulled the zipper slowly downward.His voice broke through the stillness like a steel command:

“Marah. Stop.”

Surprised, I asked, “Isn’t this what I came for?,” my voice trembled despite my effort to control it. “Isn’t this why you paid?

“ You made quite an impression on me the other night. I only want us to talk…Let me know you and be your friend Marah.”

Pretending not to pay attention I slid one strap off my shoulder.

The silk slipped.I hated how vulnerable I felt. He stepped forward and his hand gently caught my wrist.

“I didn’t bring you here to undress,” he said, low and steady.

His touch was warm… infuriatingly warm.

His eyes met mine finally and something in me cracked.

I stared at him and my body betrayed me before my mind could catch up, I lost control. I had come here to conduct business, to keep it strictly professional, and yet here he was, defying every rule I had enforced upon myself.

I felt a reckless impulse rise, a feeling I've never felt before. If he thought this was a game of words, I would meet it with action.

Slowly and deliberately, I let the silk of my gown slide a little on my skin, letting the lines of my body speak where my voice could not. I walked toward him, slow and calculated.

“You’re talking nonsense,” I said, my voice low, teasing, trying to mask the quiver in my hands. “All of this… these are just words. Words that men like you throw at women like me.”

He didn’t move, didn’t blink. But his eyes darkened, a storm behind the calm, and I could feel the weight of him pressing against my resolve.

“I see what you’re doing,” he said quietly. “You think if you tempt me, I’ll act like all the others. But I’m not like them, Marah.”

A flicker of disbelief crossed my mind. Of course he wants me… everyone wants me. My pulse raced, my body responding in ways I hated to admit. The air between us was thick, charged, the room shrinking around us.

I stepped closer, letting the heat of my closeness tease him, my words deliberate, almost dangerous. “And if I tempt you… if I let myself… What then? What makes you different from all the men who came before?”

His eyes softened, a quiet unwavering intensity. Then, deliberately, he reached out and pulled me closer, caressing my bare skin with his hand. I felt a burning sensation run through my body and for a minute I wanted him, and God! He knew, in as much as I tried to hide it.

“Because if I acted on desire alone, I would be exactly like them. And you… you would see me the same way you see all the others. I will never be that man to you.”

My breath hitched. I wanted to scoff, to dismiss him, to prove that I was untouchable, untamed, untamable. But his calm certainty cut through my defenses like a blade.

“Then… What do you want from me?” I whispered, almost pleading now, though my pride burned me from the inside.

“I want you,” he said. “All of you. Not the part you show the world, not the part you sell. I want the part you hide, the part that’s afraid, the part that doesn’t know it can breathe freely because it’s never been allowed. I want you, Marah.”

The words lodged in my chest. I could feel my pulse in my temples, my body vibrating as if every nerve had been electrified. But I wouldn’t allow softness to show. I had survived on steel and walls. I can't unravel here, not yet.

I shook my head, stepping back, letting my hands fall to my sides. “You’re dangerous,” I said, my voice tight.

“Because you speak like a man who knows the power he has, but what you’re offering… it’s impossible. I don’t… I can’t… I don’t trust anyone to want me. Not like that. Not like you say.”

He stood, slow, deliberate, letting the tension settle between us like a storm waiting to break. His hands were empty, but I felt their pull anyway.

“I know,” he said softly. “And that’s why I’m telling you now. Not later. Not when it’s convenient. Now. I love you, Marah. I will marry you.”

The words hit me like a thunderclap. I felt the floor tilt beneath me, my vision narrowing, my stomach twisting. I wanted to laugh, or scream, or cry, but none of those came out. Instead, my body acted before my mind could catch up.

I stepped back abruptly, my hands trembling, and the silk of my gown whispered against my legs as I moved. My heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as I turned. I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t process it.

“I… I…” My voice broke, swallowed by the shock and disbelief and fear of being utterly unarmed in front of him.

“I need… I need air…” I managed to speak.

Without waiting for him to respond, I swept past him, out of the living room, through the hallway, each step driven by instinct and panic and the sudden impossibility of what he had said. The door to the front opened before I could think, the night air rushing over me as if welcoming me back into the world I thought I controlled.

I want you… All of you.

That realization… that terrifying, intoxicating, impossible realization… left me trembling.

I didn’t look back. Not yet.

Because I knew somewhere in that house, in the quiet calm of that impossible man, he was watching.