Something in me snaps.
I'm across the room before I can think, stopping inches from his face. Close enough to see the silver threading his temples, the faint scar through his left eyebrow, the way his pupils dilate when I invade his space.
"What the fuck do you want?"
I'm furious. My hands are shaking. I ball them into fists at my sides.
Dmitri doesn't move. That smirk just deepens, carving lines around his mouth.
"Ah." His voice is low, amused. That accent wrapping around every syllable like smoke. "I thought perhaps you wanted another kiss."
Heat floods my face.
"Vaffanculo," I spit. "You arrogant, manipulative?—"
"Careful,solnyshko." He tilts his head, studying me like I'm fascinating.
"Don't call me that. Don't call me anything." I'm breathing too fast, chest heaving against the constraints of my professional blouse. "You set this up. The meeting with Pietro, the training, you planned all of it."
"Yes."
No denial. Just that simple admission, delivered like it costs him nothing.
"Why?" I demand.
Dmitri unfolds his arms slowly. He doesn't step back, doesn't give me an inch. We're so close I can smell him. And he smells so damn good.
"You ran from me," he says. "Twice."
"So this is what? Revenge? Some twisted game?"
"I don't play games, Vittoria." The way he says my name makes my skin prickle. "I waited a month. Watched you hide in your compound, pretending that night never happened."
"It didn't happen." The lie tastes bitter. "We kissed. That's all."
"Is that what you tell yourself?"
His hand moves. I should step back. Ishould, but my feet are rooted to the floor as his fingers brush my jaw, feather-light. The touch burns through me like a brand.
"I remember everything," he murmurs. "The sound you made when I kissed you. How you pressed against me. How you looked at me like you wanted to devour me whole."
My throat closes. "I was drunk."
"You had two glasses of champagne." His thumb traces my lower lip. "Try again."
I grab his wrist, intending to shove him away. Instead, my fingers wrap around warm skin, feeling his pulse beat steady and sure beneath my grip.
"This can't happen," I say.
"Your training session starts in ten minutes," he says pulling back. "My security team is waiting downstairs. I suggest you compose yourself,solnyshko. You look... flushed."
I want to scream. I want to slap that smirk off his face.
Instead, I straighten my spine and meet his gaze with every ounce of Sartori steel I possess.
"This isn't happening again," I tell him.
"No." His smile is slow, certain. "This is just the beginning."
