PAWNS OF DECEPTION

ISADORA’S POV The music was too loud, and the lights too dim. The air smelled like expensive perfume, alcohol, and bad decisions. I tapped my phone screen to check the time, the faint glow reflecting against my face. It was past 2 a.m., and Misha hadn’t shown up. Now, I was getting irritated. I leaned against the bar, picked up my drink, and swirled it lazily, watching people have fun as if their lives weren’t quietly falling apart behind closed doors. My gaze drifted around the room until it stopped, caught by the eyes of a man seated far from the dance floor, alone in the corner, his glass held loosely between his fingers. He looked… appealing. I glanced away, then back again, just to be sure he was actually looking at me and not some other woman. He was. His gaze locked onto mine as he lifted his drink, sipping slowly, his eyes never leaving me. I looked away, reminding myself why I was here. I reached for my phone, about to text the person I’d been waiting for. “Waiting for someone?” The deep voice came from behind me, taking me slightly off guard. I didn’t turn immediately. I let a second pass, then two. And when I did, everything blurred for a moment. Hell… I forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just the way his dark shirt, the first two buttons undone, fit him like it had been tailored to follow every line of his body. His jaw was sharply defined, high cheekbones framing a face that looked almost too structured to be natural. And his dark eyes… they held an intensity that screamed danger. “Does it look like I am?” I asked. His gaze flicked briefly to the untouched drink in front of me, then back to my face. “Yes,” he said, taking the seat beside me. “And here I thought I was blending in,” I replied, turning to face him fully. My attention drifted to his hair, it was dark and soft-looking… the kind that made me wonder how it would feel between my fingers. “You are,” he said. “Just not well enough.” “Maybe I just like watching people,” I said lightly. “Maybe,” he replied, though he didn’t look convinced. “Do you always interrogate strangers?” I asked. His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. “Only the ones who make me curious.” “Hm… that’s interesting,” I murmured, lifting my drink for a sip. “Does it help?” he asked, his attention never wavering. “Does what help?” I kept my tone neutral. “Pretending,” he said simply. The conversation was casual, but there was nothing casual about him. My lips curved slightly. “You must be very confident to assume I’m pretending.” “I don’t assume ,” he replied. “Then tell me,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “what exactly am I pretending about?” His index finger brushed his lower lip as if in thought. They were full… soft-looking. Damn. I wanted them on mine. A faint pulse stirred low in my body. He leaned closer, just enough for the subtle scent of his cologne to reach me. “Your eyes betray you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. God… that was a dangerous move. I lifted a brow, holding my composure. “My eyes? Betraying me how?” “That look….” His thumb brushed his lip slowly. “You should hide it better.” I blinked, pretending to look away, though my gaze lingered. “I think you’re reading too much into nothing,” I murmured, my voice dropping just enough to tease back. “Nothing?” He paused. His gaze didn’t leave mine.“That’s not what I see.” The tension between us thickened, it was quiet, magnetic and dangerous. For a fleeting second, I considered letting curiosity win… before remembering why I was here. I lifted my glass again, letting the cold rim brush my lips, feeling the warmth spread through my chest, loosening the edges I usually kept tight. Suddenly, the stranger beside me felt a little more… tempting than intended. He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. My eyes flicked to his lips, they were barely parted and the thought of touching them made my pulse spike. “I see that,” he said. I let my gaze linger, studying him, trying to read him. He was… interesting. Hard to read. And yet, he read me effortlessly. That alone was dangerous. “Am I letting my guard down?” I asked softly, tilting my head, not breaking eye contact as I gently bit my lower lip. “Yes.” I laughed quietly, the sound barely cutting through the bass. “Maybe.” He didn’t respond. He just watched me… like he was deciding something. The corner of his mouth lifted slowly. His gaze dropped to my lips. Before I could think it through, I leaned in just enough for our lips to brush. Then I pulled back. “Where should we go?” I asked, impatience creeping into my tone. I hoped I didn’t sound desperate… or worse, cheap. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type for reckless, one-night decisions. But this man… this dangerously perfect man… wasn’t helping. “Follow,” he murmured. We both stood. He took my hand, his grip was firm but not forceful, and instead of leading me toward the exit, he guided me toward the back. The further we walked my breathing slowed… then deepened. We passed couples pressed too close, lost in their own worlds, until we reached a door, he placed his thumb on the sensor which made a soft click. We stepped into a quieter hallway, the moment the door shut behind us, he turned to me and then his lips were on mine. It was possessive. His hand slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him as his mouth moved against mine. It was slow at first, like he was testing the taste, then deeper and more deliberate. His thumb brushed along my jaw. A soft gasp escaped me, I swallowed instantly as he deepened it, his lips parting mine with ease. Heat rushed through me, and the tension between my legs worsened. He tasted like something addictive.