"Yes," I whisper, and the admission feels more dangerous than any lie.
His mouth finally captures mine, and this kiss is nothing like what I expected. It's hungry and demanding and completely at odds with his clinical words. When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Tomorrow," he says roughly. "We'll continue."
"With what?"
"More advanced techniques. Things that require..." His jaw clenches. "More direct instruction."
"And how long does this take?"
"As long as necessary." He steps back suddenly, leaving me naked and aching in the cool air. "Lesson over for today."
"What?" I blink, struggling to process the abrupt shift.
He moves toward the door with that controlled stride that makes me want to throw something at him.
"You're just leaving me here?"
"I have business to attend to. Buyers to contact, arrangements to make." He pauses at the door, looking back at me. "Remember—every response I just drew from you, every way your body reacted to my touch, that's what they'll expect."
"And if I can't reproduce it with them?"
"Then you'd better hope they're patient teachers. Because I won't be there to guide you through it."
The lock clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone and trembling with a mixture of arousal and rage.
Bastard.
He brought me to the edge and then walked away like nothing happened.
But as I sink onto the bed, I notice what he tried to hide. The way he left so abruptly, like staying another moment would break him. The tension in his shoulders as he walked to the door. The fact that he didn't look back a second time, as if he didn't trust himself to.
He's not as controlled as he pretends.
And tomorrow, when he comes back to continue this torture, I'm going to make sure that control shatters completely.
Because if I'm going to be sold to the highest bidder, I want to make damn sure Renato Vitiello knows exactly what he's giving up.
Chapter 14: Renato
I make it three steps from her door before I have to stop and lean against the wall.
My hands are shaking. Actually, fucking shaking like I'm some inexperienced boy who just touched a woman for the first time. The taste of her is still on my lips, the memory of her skin under my hands burning through every rational thought I have left.
Professional assessment. Quality control. Business preparation.
All fucking lies.
Every goddamn word of it.
Jesus Christ! This is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life and I’ve done plenty.
I push myself off the wall and force my legs to carry me to my study, where I pour three fingers of scotch and drain it in one burning gulp. Then I pour another and stare out at the lake, trying to regain the control that Camilla Colombo just shattered with a few strategic responses and one devastating kiss. If this keeps up, I’m going to end up a goddamn alcoholic before the month is over.
She's playing me.
I know she's playing me. Every gasp, every shiver, every perfectly timed reaction. It's all calculated manipulation designed to make me lose my mind with want.
