Chirina_ butterfly

Chirina hated men who looked at her like they already knew her secrets. Mateo De Luca looked at her like he’d already decided which ones to break. His gaze lingered as she wiped down the bar, slow and deliberate, tracing her movements as though she were something to be studied—or claimed. The club wasn’t open yet, but the air already pulsed with bass and heat, neon lights reflecting off glass and skin. “Is there a reason you’re ignoring me,” he asked, voice smooth and controlled, “or is disrespect part of your charm?” Her hand stilled. Chirina turned slowly, meeting his eyes head-on. “I didn’t realize staring counted as conversation.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. Interesting. Most people looked away first. She didn’t. Mateo stepped closer—too close. Close enough that she could smell him: clean, expensive, dangerously calm. His presence pressed into her space, heavy and intentional. “You’re late,” he said. She scoffed softly. “You’re wrong.” His eyes dipped—to her lips, just briefly—before lifting again. “Careful,” he murmured. “I don’t like being challenged.” Her pulse betrayed her, skipping in a way she hated. But she refused to move. “Then don’t stand so close,” she whispered. “It makes it harder for you to think.” For a heartbeat, neither of them breathed. Something sharp and electric crackled between them—anger tangled with something far more treacherous. Mateo’s hand landed on the counter beside her, trapping her in place without touching her. The power of the gesture made her chest tighten. “You don’t know who you’re provoking,” he said quietly. Chirina leaned in just enough that her breath brushed his jaw. “I know exactly who you are.” That stopped him. Her voice dropped, edged with bitterness. “And I don’t scare easily.” For the first time, his composure cracked—not much, but enough. His gaze darkened, slow and heated, as if he were seeing her properly now. Dangerous mistake. Mateo straightened abruptly, stepping back like proximity itself had become a threat. “Do your job,” he said coldly. “And stay out of my way.” He turned and walked toward the office, every step controlled, every inch of him screaming restraint. Chirina exhaled shakily once he was gone, her heart pounding harder than it had any right to. She hated him. She hated the way her skin still burned where he hadn’t touched her. “Oh, don’t worry,” she whispered to the empty space he’d left behind. “I’ll stay out of your way.” She already knew it was a lie. Because the most dangerous enemies weren’t the ones who wanted to destroy you— They were the ones who made you feel something you never meant to feel at all.