3
825 Words
By the third day of Evan Novell haunting my life, I was running out of ways to say no.
He’d sent flowers. I’d tossed them.
He’d sent more chocolate. I’d donated it.
He’d even walked in during a wedding cake consultation, smiled that wicked smile, and left a business card on the bride’s sample plate like some kind of mob boss.
The nerve.
So when Lila waved the latest “invitation” in my face, I snatched it from her.
“That’s it,” I growled. “If the man wants dinner, fine. He’ll get dinner. But on my terms.”
Lila’s eyes sparkled. “So you’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying strategy.” I crossed my arms. “He thinks I’m some sweet little cupcake he can devour? Wrong. I’ll show him exactly what happens when you underestimate Carina Williams.”
That’s how I ended up striding into The Novell Grand Hotel at 8 p.m. sharp, wrapped in a crimson dress that hugged me like sin and screamed don’t play with me.
The lobby glittered with chandeliers, marble floors, and money obscene, suffocating money. The kind that made people lower their voices and raise their noses.
And there he was.
Evan Novell.
Tall, devastating, leaning against the reception desk like the world bent to his will. His gaze swept over me, slow and heated, before lingering on my lips.
“Carina.” His voice dipped, velvety smooth. “You came.”
I tossed my hair. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came for the free food.”
His lips curved, dangerous and amused. “Then I’ll make sure it’s unforgettable.”
Dinner was in a private rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Soft jazz floated through the air, candles flickered on every table, and waiters practically bent in half when Evan snapped his fingers.
I sat across from him, spine straight, eyes sharp. He, of course, looked like he owned the world black suit, loosened tie, smug expression.
“So,” I began, stabbing at my steak, “let’s get this over with. You lured me here, now talk. What do you actually want from me?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You.”
I rolled my eyes. “Be specific.”
His smirk deepened. “Do I need to be?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “Because I’m not some toy you can wind up and put on a shelf. I’m not a hotel acquisition. And I don’t fall for arrogant men who think obsession is the same thing as romance.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked on mine. “Then tell me why you’re here, Carina. Why put on that dress? Why walk into my world if you weren’t curious?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I told you free food.”
“Liar,” he said softly, the word striking like a caress and a challenge at once.
My fork clattered against the plate. “You don’t know me.”
His gray eyes burned. “I know enough. I know you’re fire wrapped in silk. I know you’ve built walls so high, most men wouldn’t dare climb. But me?” His voice dropped, husky. “I want to burn with you, Carina. I want to climb every wall, break every defense, and make you remember my name every time you breathe.”
My breath hitched. Damn him. Damn every word for sinking into me like heat into sugar.
I forced a laugh, though it cracked at the edges. “You sound like a bad line from a romance novel.”
“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re blushing.”
I shoved my wine glass at him. “Drink. You clearly need to cool off.”
Instead, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine warm, commanding, sending a shiver up my arm.
“Admit it,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “You feel it too.”
My lips parted, words caught somewhere between denial and surrender. Because he was right. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.
But surrendering meant losing. And Carina Williams never lost.
I snatched my hand back. “Here’s the truth, Mr. Novell you don’t scare me. You don’t own me. And you sure as hell don’t get to kiss me.”
His smirk turned wicked. “Not yet.”
I stood, grabbing my purse. “Dinner was lovely. Goodbye.”
He didn’t move, didn’t chase. Just leaned back in his chair, watching me with those damn gray eyes that saw too much.
As I stormed toward the elevator, his voice carried after me smooth, lethal, promising.
“You’ll be back, Carina. You always come back.”
In the elevator, I pressed a trembling hand against my chest, my heart a wild drum.
I hated him.
I wanted him.
And worse I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending otherwise.
- Writer
