I leaned down further, pressing a kiss to her lips. I felt her weak, shaky hand find the sleeve of my jacket and cling to it as if it were a lifeline.
“I was afraid you were stuck with me,Dolcezza,” I whispered against her skin. “Whether you liked it or not.”
She let out a tiny, broken breath that might have been a laugh if she hadn’t been in so much pain. “I think... I think I liked it.”
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, my thumb grazing her cheekbone. For a second, the world outside that room, the paparazzi, the scandal, the inevitable fury of her brother, didn’t exist.
It was just us.
“Good,” I said. “Now sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
∞∞∞
Four Months Later
The flashbulbs were constant now, but they didn’t feel like gunfire anymore. They felt more like a shield those days.
We were sitting in the back of a limo, leaving a gala in Puerto Madero. For the last eight weeks, we had"owned"the rumors.We were the most talked-about couple in Argentina. It was the only way to save her career. To turn a drunken scandal into a high-profile romance. If we were"in love,"the kiss, the crash was a tragedy of passion, not a lapse in her judgment. Mateo had almost had a heart attack when Sol suggested the narrative, but ultimately agreed, as it was the easiest route for Katarina to return to her career.
Katarina leaned her head on my shoulder, her fingers playing with the cuff of my sleeve. She looked healthy again, though a small scar still traced her brow.
“Sol says the bookings are back up,” she murmured. “The romance angle worked. Thank you for doing this. I know you hate the attention.”
“It keeps you safe,” I said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s all that matters.”
She shifted until her face was inches from mine. The air between us thickened as she slid her hand higher on my thigh before grinning like a little devil.
“Damiano…”
The way she said my name—soft, needy—made me inhale sharply. Just hearing that made me hard like a rock.
I pulled her onto my lap. Our mouths crashed together, hungry and familiar. She tasted like champagne and the lipstick she’d worn all night. My hands slid under her dress, gripping her thighs as she rocked against me.
“Fuck, Kat,” I groaned against her lips. “You look so good on top of me.”
She moaned softly, grinding down on the hard line of my cock through my pants. Her fingers worked my belt open with ease as I bit her lower lip. I pushed her dress up to her waist and slid her panties aside.
She was already wet. I stroked her with two fingers, slow at first, then faster when she whimpered into my mouth.
“Damiano… please…”
I freed myself as she bit open a condom wrapper and slid it on my cock. Then I guided her down onto me in one smooth motion. She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders as she took me deep. The limo rocked slightly with her movements. I gripped her hips, guiding her to ride harder, deeper.
We moved together as we had so many times before—urgent, addictive, borderline desperate. Her breath hitched with every thrust. I buried my face in her neck, biting down just enough to make her moan louder.
“It feels so good,” she whispered, voice breaking.
I thrust up harder, chasing the feeling I knew I shouldn’t want this much. She clenched around me, trembling as she came with a soft cry. I followed right after, groaning her name as I finished.
For a few moments, we stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.
Then reality crashed back in.
She stayed on my lap, still joined with me, and looked into my eyes.
“I can’t keep pretending this is just for the tabloids,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’m in love with you.Please… tell me if you feel it too.”
The silence that followed felt like a blade.
