Interrupted temptation

The knocking came again—sharp, insistent.

Alessandra's breath was still uneven, her lips tingling from Matteo's kiss, her body caged between him and the cold marble wall. The heat of his touch lingered on her skin, a stark contrast to the cool opulence surrounding them.

Gilded sconces cast flickering light onto the marble floor, their soft glow illuminating the tension crackling between them. The faint scent of jasmine and aged champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the intoxicating blend of Matteo's cologne—dark, spicy, utterly consuming.

She wasn't ready for this moment to end.

But reality had other plans.

Matteo's smoldering gaze flicked toward the door, his jaw tightening before he finally stepped back. The loss of his warmth sent a frustrating chill over her skin, a stark reminder of the space he was forced to put between them.

The pounding in her chest wasn't just from desire—it was from the precariousness of this moment, the sheer recklessness of what they had just done.

With deliberate slowness, Matteo reached for the handle, but not before dragging his gaze down the length of her body—taking in the way her emerald silk gown clung to her curves, the slight tremble in her fingers as she smoothed her dress. His attention lingered on her lips, kiss-swollen and parted, like a silent mark of possession.

A promise.

A reminder.

Then—he pulled the door open.

Standing in the threshold, framed by the soft golden light of the hallway, was Giulia Caruso—arms crossed, eyebrows arched.

She was dressed in a haute couture creation that only the elite could afford—black velvet hugging her frame, a slit revealing toned legs accentuated by sky-high stilettos. The diamond choker at her throat sparkled with the kind of wealth only old money could carry.

Giulia took one look at Alessandra—flushed cheeks, heaving chest, the undeniable wreckage of a stolen moment—and then at Matteo, who looked like he'd just been caught indulging in his favorite sin.

A slow, knowing smirk stretched across her lips.

"Well, well," she drawled, stepping inside with the kind of effortless grace that came from being raised in luxury. "I was wondering where you disappeared to, Ale."

Alessandra's stomach twisted. She forced herself to breathe, to regain some semblance of composure. Her fingers twitched as she adjusted the thin straps of her gown, pretending to smooth out wrinkles that weren't there.

"I just needed some air," she said, though the breathlessness in her voice betrayed her.

Giulia's gaze swept over her with amused scrutiny. "Right. And you just happened to stumble into a private moment with your fiancé's brother?"

The reminder landed like a slap.

Alessandra flinched, but Matteo?

Matteo didn't even blink.

Instead, he leaned against the wall with the kind of arrogance that only he could pull off—completely unbothered, completely in control. The dim light cast deep shadows over his sharp cheekbones, making him look even more untouchable, more lethal.

"Jealous, Caruso?" he murmured, voice lazy, taunting.

Giulia rolled her eyes. "Of you? Hardly." Then she flicked her gaze back to Alessandra. "But I do think you should tread carefully, my dear best friend. People are watching."

A pointed warning.

Guilia didn't want Alessandra to be in trouble.

One that sent an uncomfortable weight pressing down on Alessandra's chest.

She already knew that.

Hell, Luca had probably noticed her absence already.

The air grew heavier, charged with something unspoken.

Matteo straightened, his body language shifting—more predatory, more possessive. The rich silk of his tailored suit barely hid the power coiled beneath his muscles, a dangerous contradiction to the refined world they lived in.

"Let them watch," he said, voice a dark promise.

Alessandra's pulse jumped.

Giulia's brows lifted, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You don't care that she's engaged?"

Matteo's gaze flicked to Alessandra, pinning her in place. His eyes were dark, unreadable. "She isn't his."

A breath of silence.

Alessandra's throat went dry.

Giulia's smirk deepened, but for once, she didn't push.

She let the weight of those words settle, let them crack the illusion of control Alessandra had been clinging to.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, she turned back to her. "Come on, Ale. Luca's been asking about you."

The air shifted.

A reminder of reality.

Alessandra didn't dare look at Matteo as she stepped away.

Because if she did… she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave.

Giulia looped her arm through hers, the scent of vanilla and expensive perfume surrounding her as she led her toward the door.

Matteo didn't stop her.

But as she passed him, his fingers **brushed against hers—**a fleeting touch, light as air, but devastating in its impact.

A claim.

A warning.

A firestorm ignited beneath her skin.

Alessandra shivered, and Matteo noticed. His lips barely parted, just enough to let out a whisper that only she could hear.

"This isn't over, princess."

It wasn't a threat.

It was a promise.

And God help her—

She didn't want it to be.