CHAPTER TEN
1565 Words
SOMEONE ASKED FOR A SAVIOR?
SALVATORE
Lady Luck seems to be on my side tonight.
I step out of the office earlier than planned, using a client meeting as an excuse, but truth be told, my mind hasn’t been on business since I watched her performance. The image of her is still fresh, still burning behind my eyes like something branded into my skull.
It feels different from the last time.
I haven’t been able to come around the club as often as I would have liked. Work has been relentless from deals stacked on deals, deliveries that can’t be delayed, meetings that drag on longer than necessary. The kind of responsibilities that build empires and cages at the same time. So tonight, slipping away feels almost reckless but I don’t regret it.
Not when she dances like that.
Not when she moves like she’s aware of me, like every roll of her hips and every slow drag of her body across that stage is meant for my eyes alone. It’s a dangerous thought, one that feeds my ego more than it should, but I can’t shake it.
She dances like she knows I’m watching her every move.
Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
As if she understands how my body reacts, how I go rigid, how every ounce of control I pride myself on tightens to a thin, fragile thread. Watching her grind her hips, letting her body flow like liquid sin under those lights…
Fuck.
That woman is a problem.
That ass alone could be the death of me one day. The way it moves, the way it refuses to be ignored, it’s enough to make a man forget reason, forget restraint. It’s enough to make me want to ruin her in ways I haven’t allowed myself to think about in a long time.
I almost ordered for every man in the room have their eyeballs plucked out for experiencing what is mine to watch only, I don't think my brother would like that though but I am still considering that
She deliberately looks in my direction more than once earlier, not randomly or carelessly.
Like she’s trying to find me in the shadows and I know, deep down, that my woman because something in me has already claimed her whether it makes sense or not is feisty. There’s fire in her, something sharp beneath all that smooth, tempting grace.
I like that.
I like it more than I should.
Even now, seeing her standing here, on the wrong side of the building, where she clearly doesn’t belong, curiosity flickers through me but it’s not just curiosity. It’s something darker, something more possessive.
Something that makes me want to test her.
“Didn’t hear me the first time?” I say, my voice cutting through the silence as I repeat my question. “Did you lose your way or something?”
She turns, finally, and there it is that face. Up close this time, not softened by stage lights or distance just real and unfiltered and even more dangerous.
Yeah, I know what I’m doing.
I’m giving her something to grab onto, a rope and a chance so let’s see how she plays this.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softer now, but still steady. “I was looking for the bathroom and then got lost. I found myself in this hallway and curiosity got the best of me.”
Curiosity.
That word again.
I let out a quiet breath, studying her. The way she holds herself, the way her eyes move, not nervous, not exactly. Calculating, a little too aware for someone who claims to be lost.
“Yeah,” I reply, a hint of amusement slipping into my tone. “I would be curious too, this side of the building gives the place an edge of mystery.”
It does more than that.
This part of the club isn’t for wandering guests, it’s controlled, rivate and mine and my brothers
“Thank you very much,” she says, and there’s something polite about it, almost too polished. “Do you know your way back? Can you help lead me? My ride would be here soon, and I can’t afford to miss him.”
Her ride.
The thought lands wrong in my chest, I don’t like it, not even a little and before I can stop myself, before logic or restraint can step in, I move.
I close the distance between us in a few slow steps, deliberate and measured, until she’s backed against the door of my office. The space tightens instantly, the air shifting into something heavier, thicker.
More intimate.
I cage her in, not roughly, not aggressively but firmly enough that there’s no mistaking the control in the gesture. My presence alone is enough to make the moment feel charged, to tilt the balance in my favor.
I can feel her now.
Her breathing.
Fast and uneven.
Her chest rises and falls just a little quicker than before, and that reaction, it does something to me. Something primal that makes me want to push further.
I lean in, closing the remaining distance until my mouth hovers just beside her ear, close enough to feel her warmth, enough to hear the subtle hitch in her breath.
Close enough to take.
“You know,” I murmur, my voice dropping into something darker, something meant only for her, “the big, bad wolf that owns this office wouldn’t let go of someone like you so easily.”
The words slide out low and deliberate, wrapped in implication and I get exactly the reaction I’m looking for.
Her skin prickles instantly, goosebumps rising along her arms like her body betrays her before she can stop it, her breathing picks up even more, shallow now, almost like she’s trying to steady herself and failing.
Good.
So she’s not immune, not even close.
For a second, a dangerous, reckless second and I consider it.
Kissing her.
Dragging her into my office, locking the door, and seeing just how far that fire in her goes when it’s pushed.
But no.
Not yet.
Calm down, Salvatore.
Baby steps.
The words repeat in my head like a warning, like the last thread of discipline holding me back from crossing a line I won’t be able to uncross because something about her tells me this isn’t a one-time thing and I don’t do plan on doing temporary.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get your name earlier,” she says, her voice a little breathless now, but still trying to hold onto composure. “Please… can I know my savior’s name?”
Savior.
The word almost makes me smile.
If only she knew.
If only she understood just how dangerous that title is in my hands.
Her savior, she says.
She has no idea how much saving I could do or how much I could ruin her in the process.
“I wouldn’t call me saving,” I reply, my voice quieter now, more controlled, though the edge is still there. “Not when all I’m thinking about is something unsaving.”
I let the words linger between us for a moment before I step back.
Just enough, enough to give her space to breathe again to show her that I can take control and release it.
For now.
Her shoulders ease slightly, her chest still rising and falling as she tries to regain herself and I watch it all, her every small reaction and flicker of emotion that crosses her face.
She’s interesting.
Too interesting.
“My name is Pedro,” I say finally, the lie slipping off my tongue with practiced ease. “I work in the winery.”
I pause, letting the name settle.
“Pedro,” I repeat with a faint tilt of my head, a shadow of a smile playing on my lips. “Your savior, at your service.”
It’s almost amusing the way relief spreads across her face subtly, but there.
Like she’s just dodged something bigger than she expected and in a way she has because if she knew who I really was, if she understood exactly whose space she had wandered into, this moment would feel very different.
Fear, maybe or defiance.
Either way, not this soft exhale of tension leaving her body and that’s how I know I made the right choice as the game needs time.
It needs space to build, to stretch, to tighten around its target before the final move is made and rushing it would ruin everything and I don’t ruin things I want to keep.
So I watch her, I let her believe the lie, let her settle into it, into the version of me I’ve chosen to show her tonight but beneath it, beneath the calm expression, beneath the controlled posture and measured tone…
There’s something else, something darker and patient because this isn’t over, not even close and when the time comes, when the truth finally surfaces, when the distance between who I am and who I’ve told her I am collapses
I want to see that same fire in her eyes.
Only this time, with nowhere to run because the moment I step into her world like this, the moment I let myself get this close
She’s already mine.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
- Writer
