The words came out like vomit, and before I knew it, I asked him to kiss me.
His head tilted to the right, his lips twitching into a delicious smirk before he whispered, “You don’t want that.”
“Why does everyone think they know what I want?!” I snapped—a little too loud—and his eyebrows shot up his forehead.
“I just think you would regret it.” His voice lowered as his eyes bore into mine. When his gaze dropped to my lips—before my brain could veto the impulse—I pulled him close, and my lips crashed into his.
It started clumsily, tasting of tequila, lime, and desperation. Damiano groaned, letting out a sound of surrender as his hands found my waist, hauling me against him until there was no space left between us.
The kiss consumed me, like a collision of six months of unspoken desire and suppressed hunger. His tongue swept against mine, possessive and deep, claiming me in a way that made my knees buckle. I lost myself in the heat of his body, my fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head, whispering against his skin.
“Te odio por hacerme quererte tanto…” I hated him for making me like him like this.
FLASH.
The flashing white light blinded me as the intimacy we built around us shattered.
Paparazzi.
In a few seconds, the shutters clicked like rapid gunfire, capturing every angle of us.
“Oh god,” I gasped as the budding scandal dawned on me. “Sol will kill me. Mateo will killyou!”
Panic sliced through the haze, and I pushed Damiano away. I bolted toward the exit as fast as I could, dodging people and stumbling with my high heels. I cover my face with my purse, using it as a shield. But it was too late. People had already seen us.
God, my career was over.
I could hear Damiano behind me calling my name, but I didn't stop until I reached the valet lot.
“Katarina!¡Para!”
He caught up to me just as I reached my Audi. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm, spinning me around to face him.
“You’re drunk. You can’t drive. Give me the keys,” he said as he tried to calm me down.
“Let go of me!” I jerked my arm away, my eyes swimming with tears. “Look at them! They’re going to ruin my career and drag you with it!”
“I don't give a damn!” he growled, reaching for the keys again. “I care about you getting home in one piece. Get in my car, or let me call you a driver. You are in no condition to drive.”
“No!Just let me go!” I shouted, shoving him back.
I scrambled into the driver's seat and locked the doors before he could reach the handle. He slammed his fist against the glass, his face twisted in a look of frustration.
“Katarina! Open the door!”
I ignored him, shifted into drive, and floored it. The tires screamed as I tore out of the lot.
I sped down the road as tears streaked down my face.
Mateo was going to be so disappointed in me. God, I didn’t think I could face him after this.
When I checked my side mirror, a single LED headlight cut through the dark. The roar of a high-powered engine echoed off the buildings as we both accelerated.
It was Damiano.
He was on his black Ducati, weaving through traffic at reckless, terrifying speed. His hand was outstretched as he signaled the cars behind him to get out of the way. I quickly realized we were still being followed by the paparazzi when I saw a car with a man holding a camera hanging out of the window, trying to take a shot on my right.
I panicked, and I took the turn toward the bridge too fast.
