Forbidden Never Felt This Good

~ 15

0015

~ Aria ~

I turned to face Luca, my expression perfectly composed even as satisfaction curled hot in my chest. His eyes were molten steel, his jaw so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

"Actually, it is possible," I said coolly, my voice carrying just enough authority to remind him exactly who he was dealing with. "I'm cleared for the evening, Luca. There's no security threat, no pressing obligation waiting for me at the estate."

"There are always security concerns," he said through gritted teeth. "Especially in public venues where…"

"Where what? Where I might actually enjoy myself?" I tilted my head, letting him see the challenge in my eyes. "We concluded our business meeting successfully. Jean-Paul has extended a perfectly reasonable invitation for drinks. I see no reason to decline."

"Miss Santoro…"

"My father will be thrilled to hear I'm extending the evening," I continued, playing the one card I knew he couldn't counter. "Building relationships with investors, showing interest beyond just the boardroom. Isn't that exactly what he wants? For me to be engaged, social, to cultivate the kinds of connections that will benefit the family?"

Luca's hands clenched into fists at his sides. I watched the war play out across his face—duty versus desire, his oath to my father versus the possessive fury that made him want to throw me over his shoulder and carry me away from Jean-Paul's interested gaze.

Aria 1, Luca 0.

"Then I'll accompany you," he said finally, each word clipped and precise. "For security purposes."

"Of course." I smiled, all innocence. "I wouldn't dream of going anywhere without my dedicated bodyguard."

I turned back to Jean-Paul, who'd watched this exchange with barely concealed amusement. He was smart enough to read the tension, sophisticated enough not to comment on it.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his hand.

I placed mine in his, noting the way his fingers closed around mine with just the right amount of pressure, confident without being presumptuous. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, a subtle gesture that could have been accidental but absolutely wasn't.

"Lead the way," I said, letting warmth flood my voice.

Behind me, I heard Luca's sharp exhale. The sound made heat pool low in my belly.

---

"Please, allow me to drive you," Jean-Paul said as we stepped outside into the cool night air. "My car is just here."

A sleek black Mercedes waited at the curb, the kind of vehicle that whispered wealth rather than shouting it. Jean-Paul's driver stood by the rear door, professional and unobtrusive.

"That won't be…" Luca started.

"That sounds perfect," I interrupted smoothly, meeting Luca's furious gaze with bland politeness. "Though of course, my bodyguard will need to accompany us. I'm sure there's room?"

Jean-Paul's smile widened, clearly enjoying this game even if he didn't fully understand the stakes. "Naturally. Perhaps your... associate... would be comfortable in the front?"

"Perfect." I let Jean-Paul guide me toward the car, his hand warm on my lower back, fingers splayed possessively across the bare skin exposed by my dress.

I felt Luca's stare like a physical burn.

The driver opened the rear door, and Jean-Paul handed me in with old-world courtesy. The leather was butter-soft, the interior immaculate. Jean-Paul slid in beside me, close enough that our thighs were nearly touching, and the driver closed the door with a quiet click.

Luca took the passenger seat with barely controlled violence, his shoulders rigid, his entire body screaming tension even as he tried to maintain professional composure.

"The bar is only ten minutes away," Jean-Paul said, settling back into the seat with easy confidence. "One of Monaco's best-kept secrets. Exclusive clientele, excellent cocktails, and the kind of atmosphere where one can actually hear oneself think."

"Sounds intriguing," I said, angling my body slightly toward him.

"Rather like you." His eyes held mine, warm and appreciative. "I have to say, Aria, you're full of surprises. Most people in your position would have sent a representative to tonight's meeting. But you handled every detail yourself, asked all the right questions, drove the negotiation with impressive skill."

"I don't believe in delegating what I should understand myself."

"A woman after my own heart." His smile was genuine, charming. "Tell me, do you sail? I have a yacht moored in Monaco. Perhaps I could take you out sometime—show you the coastline from a different perspective."

From the front seat, I heard what might have been Luca's teeth grinding.

"I've been sailing," I said, letting my fingers toy with my bracelet in a way that drew Jean-Paul's eyes to my wrist, my hands. "Though it's been years. I'd enjoy that."

"Consider it a date, then." Jean-Paul's hand found mine on the seat between us, his fingers threading through mine with practiced ease. "Though I suspect you have many men lining up for the privilege."

I laughed softly. "Fewer than you might think. Most men are intimidated by strong women."

"Their loss." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "I find strength incredibly attractive."

The car pulled to a stop outside an unmarked building, discreet and elegant. Jean-Paul's driver opened the door, and we stepped out into the warm night. Jean-Paul kept my hand in his as we walked toward the entrance, and I let him, hyperaware of Luca's presence three steps behind us, a shadow made of barely leashed violence.

---

The bar was everything Jean-Paul had promised—intimate without being claustrophobic, sophisticated without being pretentious. Low lighting, plush velvet seating, and music that was more feeling than sound, a slow sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse through the floor.

We were shown to a VIP area tucked into an alcove with a perfect view of the small dance floor. Jean-Paul ordered champagne, but I shook my head.

"Tequila," I told the server. "Patrón Platinum. Neat."

Jean-Paul's eyebrows rose with appreciation. "A woman who knows what she wants."

"Always."

The tequila arrived in crystal, smooth and expensive. I took a sip, letting the warmth slide down my throat, settling into my chest like liquid courage. On the dance floor, couples moved together with the kind of intimacy that came from either long familiarity or new desire.

The music shifted, slowing into something deeply sensual, all bass and breath, the kind of song that demanded bodies pressed together, movements that were more suggestion than dance.

Perfect.

I set down my glass and stood, extending my hand to Jean-Paul. "Dance with me."

His surprise gave way to pleasure. "I'd be delighted."

I led him to the dance floor, hyperaware of Luca's eyes tracking every movement. The music wrapped around us, sultry and demanding. Jean-Paul's hands found my waist, pulling me close, and I went willingly, letting my body mold against his.

But my eyes... my eyes found Luca.

He stood at the edge of our VIP area, rigid as stone, his face a mask of barely controlled fury. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw so tight I thought it might shatter. And his eyes, God, his eyes were black with rage and something darker, something possessive and primal that made my pulse race.

Good.

I wanted him to watch. Wanted him to see exactly what he was missing, what he refused to claim.

Game on Luca.