His hand reached out for me; grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to him. “If you’re so sure we’re such a terrible idea… Then let’s prove it.”
I swallowed, pulse tripping. He was doing that thing again – pulling the ground out from under me.
“And what does the winner get?” I asked.
His mouth lifted at one corner, slow and confident. “If you win, and you don’t fall for my irresistible charm, I backoff.” His voice dropped, quiet and firm, but his fingers dug into my skin. “No flirting. No touching. Just in public.”
“And if you win?”
His smirk was mischievous. “Then our deal is back on.”
Heat flared under my skin. Not anger. Definitely not fear. Just passion.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
I let the silence sit. Let him wonder. Then I gave him a smile that was all sweet poison and confidence I didn’t fully feel but refused to show.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll play with you, Matteo.”
Matteo’s answering smirk was criminal; slow and certain. “May the best seducer win.”
A spark shot through me – stupid, reckless, addictive.
“Oh,I will,” I said.
And I meant it. Even though a very dangerous part of me already wondered what losing to him might feel like.
“Cards? Really?”
“Not just cards,” I argued with a smirk. “Strip Poker.”
Francesca rolled her eyes, unimpressed.
Strip Poker wasmyidea, obviously. Which made it even more satisfying that she acted like she wasn’t intrigued. She sat cross-legged across from me on the fluffy rug, the lights low behind her, the city reflecting like gold dust across her skin. Chic, collected, beautiful – already plotting how to win.
“You’re ridiculous,” She said, voice smooth as ever. “Trying to get me naked won’t help you win this, you know.”
I leaned back on one hand, swirling my drink with the other. “Who said I need you naked to win,princesa?”
“Please. You think getting rid of clothes is going to make me fold faster?”
“I think,” I said, drawing a card, “That I like watching you strip.”
Francesca snorted. “Bold of you to assumeI’mlosing.”
I revealed my hand. Straight flush.
She stared. I shrugged. She huffed. And she tugged off her first piece – her diamond earrings – placing them on the table with theatrical slowness.
“That doesn’t count,” I said. “They don’t cover anything.”
“They count. They're an accessory.Diamonds.”
“Diamonds I’d like to fuck you in later.” I gave her a knowing smile. “Put your diamonds back on, and take off a piece of clothing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
