CHAPTER 5 — CURIOSITY BITES
885 Words
Eva Moretti
It was nearly 2 a.m. and I was still awake, lying on top of my hotel sheets, staring at the ceiling.
My brain was on a loop:
Sell the dungeon.
Marco’s a liar.
I shouldn’t want him.
But God, I do.
My body still ached from remembering his hands on me. His mouth. His voice telling me how good I’d taste falling apart.
Snap out of it, Eva.
I was a corporate lawyer. Not some woman who let a man throw her entire life off balance because he had good hair and smelled like expensive danger.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
By 3 a.m., I was pacing the floor, phone in my hand, drafting a mental list.
Call the realtor.
List the dungeon.
Cut ties with Marco.
Focus on my job.
Forget how his voice makes me feel naked.
My thumb hovered over Marco’s number in my call log.
Don’t. Don’t call him. You’ll regret it.
Instead, I scrolled my emails. Tried reading legal memos. But the words blurred together until they might as well have been written in Greek.
My brain kept replaying snippets of Marco’s voice at lunch:
“Because the first time I saw you, I wanted you. And the second time, I wanted to protect you.”
And the look in his eyes when he said it. Like he meant every damn word.
Why did that scare me more than if he’d been completely cold?
At nine sharp, I sat at my law firm’s conference table, pretending to listen while my boss, Signora Bianchi, rattled on about an intellectual property case.
I nodded in all the right places. Made a few “mm-hmm” noises. But the second I opened my laptop, my fingers typed:
Sex club Milan private memberships.
My cheeks flamed as I slammed my laptop shut.
“Eva, are you okay?” Signora Bianchi asked.
I gave her a tight smile. “Fine. Didn’t sleep much.”
By lunchtime, I was practically vibrating with pent-up energy.
One more look. Just one.
I found myself back on the club’s website. Scrolling through the membership tiers. The testimonials. The discreet photos.
I should’ve felt disgusted. Or horrified.
Instead, I felt…wet.
That afternoon, my phone buzzed again.
Marco.
I stared at his name. My thumb hovered over Decline.
Instead, I answered. “What do you want, Marco?”
“I’m downstairs.”
My pulse slammed against my ribs. “Excuse me?”
“I’m in the lobby of your office building.”
When I stepped out of the elevator, he was waiting. Leaning against a marble pillar in a navy suit that made his shoulders look even broader.
He smiled the second he saw me. “Hello, trouble.”
I hissed, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to talk.”
“About what? You already made your pitch. The answer’s still no.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been thinking about me. About the dungeon.”
Heat flooded my face. “I have not.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Your pupils say otherwise.”
I shoved him in the chest. “Stop psychoanalyzing me!”
He caught my wrists gently, leaning close. “Come with me tonight.”
“Are you insane?”
“Just one night. No pressure. No commitment. I’ll show you what you inherited. You decide if you sell or not.”
“I already decided.”
“Then prove it. Come see it one more time. And if you still want to sell, I’ll help you. No strings.”
I stared at him, my pulse thundering. “No strings?”
“None. Except I want you to admit something first.”
“What?” I snapped.
He leaned closer, lips near my ear.
“That you’ve been thinking about me naked since the first night.”
I shoved him away. “You’re impossible.”
“Say it.”
“No!”
“Then meet me tonight.”
“I can’t.”
He brushed his thumb along my lower lip. “Then I’ll just have to come find you.”
By the time I got back upstairs, my hands were shaking.
My colleague Matteo gave me a weird look. “You look flushed. You okay?”
I swallowed. “Just…business stuff.”
But I couldn’t focus on work. Couldn’t focus on anything but Marco’s voice in my ear, whispering filthy promises.
At ten p.m., I was back in my hotel room. Hair pulled up. Face washed clean.
I stared at the address Marco had texted me.
Just one night, Eva. No strings.
I paced the room. Over and over.
Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go.
But the more I told myself no, the hotter my skin felt.
Finally, I grabbed my purse.
One night. That’s all.
But as I opened my door, I nearly crashed into a hard chest.
Marco stood there, filling the doorway.
He didn’t say a word. Just reached out, hooking a finger under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
His voice was gravel when he spoke.
“I knew you’d choose curiosity over fear.”
“Tonight, curiosity might cost me my soul or give me the one thing I secretly crave.”
- Writer
