Cristian watches me with dark, hungry eyes.
His breathing matches mine, ragged and uneven.
A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead.
A new wave of heat flares inside me.
Not just desire but curiosity.
I want more.
Need more.
My body craves in ways I never imagined.
My gaze drops to the bulge straining against his pants. I've never touched a man there before, but suddenly, nothing seems more important.
My fingers find his belt buckle, fumbling as I try to work it loose, eager to fully experience the ways a man and woman can find pleasure. "Let me touch you."
Cristian's strong hands grasp my waist, abruptly stopping my exploration.
For a moment I think he's guiding me, but then he lifts me like I weigh nothing and places me back in my seat.
"This can’t happen." His voice is firm. The passionate man from seconds ago has disappeared.
My heart plummets.
The euphoria of moments before dissolves into confusion and shame. "I don't understand. You want this too?—”
"What I want doesn't matter." Cristian straightens his shirt, shifts in the seat as he tugs on his slacks. "You belong to another man. To your family's alliance."
Each word hurts more than if he'd struck me. I'm nothing but a commodity. Even to him.
"So, I'm just a job to you? A package to be delivered safely to Maksim?"
Cristian's jaw tightens. "You're Don Alessandro's sister. You're promised to Pakhan Vasiliev. That's all that matters."
I pull my dress down, trying to reclaim some dignity.
Humiliation burns through me, not just from his rejection but from my own desperation.
I threw myself at him like some lovesick girl.
God.
He must think I’m pathetic.
“I understand perfectly.” I turn my attention out the window, unable to face him. "Forgive my indiscretion. It won't happen again."
“Valentina—”
“Stop talking.” I’m relieved when the car pulls into the drive. I burst from the car before it fully stops.
Tears of embarrassment threaten, but I refuse to let them fall.
Not here.
Not where anyone can see.
