“Twenty-five minutes,” Sean replied, his jaw hardening instinctively at the mention of the name.
Rosália exhaled a heavy, entirely resigned sigh. She sank onto the edge of a plush velvet armchair, closing her eyes as she shook her head. “It was exactly as you said it would be, Sean. They just couldn’t let this opportunity slip by.”
“No,” Sean murmured, his dark eyes tracing the tired lines of her beautiful face. “They wouldn’t.”
It hadn’t taken much effort for a man with Sean’s resources to figure out the logistics of their betrayal. Katherine, using the limitless credit card Sean provided, had discreetly reserved a second, lower-level room in the hotel for the weekend. Sean had known they would use the cover of the busy birthday party, wait until their respective partners were asleep, and sneak away to take advantage of the night.
But David and Katherine’s real surprise wouldn’t be down in that lower-level burner room. Their nightmare would begin when they crept back up to the penthouse suites, expecting to slip quietly into bed beside the spouses they had just betrayed, only to pull back the heavy duvets and find the sheets completely, terrifyingly empty.
Let them sweat this one out,Sean thought, a dark, ruthless satisfaction curling deep in his gut.Let the panic set in when they realize the cages are empty.
He pulled his focus back to the woman in front of him. Rosália was sitting on the edge of the armchair, nervously twisting her delicate fingers together in her lap, her knuckles turning white. The agonizing reality of her husband currently sweating over another woman’s body was clearly suffocating her.
“So,” Rosália asked, her voice a fragile, breathless whisper. She looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. “What are we going to do for the next few hours while we wait?”
Sean’s sharp, calculating demeanor melted entirely. A warm, breathtakingly handsome smile spread across his face, entirely genuine and meant only for her. “I have an idea.”
He stepped closer, invading her space just enough to offer his presence as a shield, and extended his large hand toward her.
Rosália looked at his outstretched, calloused palm for a fraction of a second. And then, she placed her smaller hand completely in his. She didn’t hesitate. The absolute, unshakeable trust in that simple, fluid movement sent a deep, intensely pleasant jolt of electricity straight up Sean’s arm and directly into his chest. He laced his long fingers tightly through hers, pulling her gently to her feet.
He didn’t let go as he led her out of the main living area, down a short hallway, and pushed open the double doors to a private, state-of-the-art media room.
Rosália’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in surprise.
Sean had requested the hotel staff prepare the room specifically for her. A massive, high-definition projector screen dominated the far wall. On the low mahogany coffee table, positioned perfectly in front of an oversized, pull-out velvet sofa,sat a meticulously arranged spread. There was a silver platter overflowing with fresh, split figs, honey-drizzled blackberries, and sliced mangoes—every single fruit he had noticed her gravitate toward at neighborhood dinners. Beside it sat a vintage-style popcorn machine, the rich, buttery scent filling the room and overriding the sterile smell of the hotel. Resting in a silver ice bucket, condensation dripping down its sides, was a bottle of perfectly chilled sparkling wine from her absolute favorite vineyard.
Sean guided her to the plush sofa and grabbed the remote, dimming the recessed lights until the room was bathed entirely in the soft, intimate glow of the blank screen. He popped the cork on the wine with a softhiss, poured them each a crystal flute, and took a seat right beside her on the deep velvet cushions.
He pressed play.
The iconic, sweeping orchestral notes ofBreakfast at Tiffany’sfilled the room, and Audrey Hepburn’s face appeared on the massive screen, staring wistfully into the jewelry store window.
Rosália turned her head, looking at Sean with a brilliant, entirely disarmed smile that hit him with the force of a physical blow. “You remembered.”
Weeks ago, during a fleeting, casual conversation over the dark hedges that divided their properties, she had mentioned that the classic film was her ultimate comfort watch when she was feeling lost.
Sean held her gaze, his dark eyes dropping to the soft curve of her mouth for a fraction of a second before slowly rising to meet her eyes again.
“There is absolutely nothing about you that is forgettable, Rosália,” he murmured, his deep voice thick with a heavy, undeniable truth that vibrated in the small space between them.
A pretty, dark flush immediately rose to Rosália’s cheeks, blooming across her golden skin. She swallowed hard, suddenly looking incredibly shy, her eyelashes fluttering as she awkwardly turned her attention back to the massive screen.
For the next two hours, the movie played. They ate the popcorn and drank the crisp, expensive wine, but Sean could barely focus a single ounce of his attention on the plot.
The physical proximity was driving him out of his mind.
The room was a cocoon of sensory overload. The subtle, intoxicating scent of her perfume—jasmine and something deep and warm like vanilla—mixed with the dark, quiet intimacy of the room. Every time she laughed softly at a scene, her body shifted on the cushions. Every time she leaned forward to grab a blackberry, her thigh brushed against his, the agonizing friction of her silk trousers against his dark slacks sending a surge of pure static electricity straight to his groin.
Sean felt his muscles pull taut, completely strung out. He spent more time watching the flickering, cinematic light wash over the delicate lines of her face than he did looking at the screen. He watched the way she absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip. He watched the elegant, graceful line of herneck when she tilted her head back to drink her wine. He was a starving man sitting at a feast he wasn’t allowed to touch.
When the credits finally rolled and the room brightened slightly, the heavy atmosphere didn’t lift. It only intensified, pulling as tight as a tripwire.
They stayed on the sofa, shifting their bodies to fully face each other. They talked about the movie, effortlessly exchanging opinions about the characters’ flaws, their laughter quiet and entirely genuine.
But as the conversation naturally lulled, a profound, suffocatingly heavy silence settled over them.
They just looked at each other. The chemistry vibrating in the six inches of space between them was electric, undeniable, and completely consuming. The air felt too thick to breathe. Sean’s gaze dropped to her lips, parting slightly as she drew in a shaky breath. He felt the overwhelming, primitive urge to reach out, to fist his hand in her dark hair, pull her across the cushions, and finally taste the mouth he had been obsessing over all night.
