A Ride Into Trouble.
Angel's Point Of View
Standing before me, his grip firm yet gentle, his gaze impassive.
“Mr. D’Amano?” My voice came out quieter than I intended.
“Are you done with your training?” His voice was unreadable, his expression giving nothing away.
“Y…yes, I was just about to leave,” I replied, hating the way my words wavered under his intense stare.
“I’ll drop you off.” It wasn’t an offer. It was a command.
“No..no..no, Mr. D’Amano, I…I can mana….”
“You don’t have a choice, Caramella,” he interrupted, his deep voice laced with dominance.
I sucked in a breath. There was no use arguing—he had already decided. So I let him lead me to his car, a sleek sky-blue luxurious sedan that stood with an air of power, its tinted windows concealing the mysteries within.
I expected him to simply get in and let me fend for myself, but instead, he surprised me. Without a word, he opened the passenger door for me.
I hesitated for a second before offering him a shy smile and slipping inside.
The leather seat molded to my body as I adjusted myself. I reached for the seatbelt, but the damn thing decided to be difficult, refusing to budge. A small pout formed on my lips as I struggled with it.
“Hold on!” His authoritative voice cut through my frustration.
Before I could protest, he leaned in, so close that his head hovered just inches from my boobs. I froze.
His scent—God, his scent—was intoxicating. A mixture of fresh citrus and something dark, rich, undeniably masculine.
My fingers dug into the seat as inappropriate thoughts raced through my mind. Thoughts of his hands gripping me, his mouth exploring…..
Stop it, Angel.
He reached across me, his strong arm brushing against my waist as he pulled the seatbelt free and fastened it with effortless ease. My breath hitched.
His retreat was slow, torturous. Just as he pulled back, his knuckles grazed my hips, sending a jolt of heat straight to my pussy.
Our eyes locked. And in that moment, I felt myself drowning—falling helplessly into the deep, electric blue of his gaze. They pulled me in like a force I couldn’t resist. I felt trapped, captivated by their depth, a prisoner to their intensity.
It was as if I had committed the worst sin, sentenced to remain ensnared in their hold, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to break free. He was the first to look away, breaking the spell. I blinked rapidly, turning my head toward the window, desperate to calm my erratic heartbeat.
Maybe riding with him wasn't exactly a good idea.
The engine roared to life, and the next thing I knew, we were speeding down the road.
Fast. Too fast.
The speed at which he was driving made me grip the seatbelt tightly, my fingers digging into the fabric. My heart pounded as I stole a glance at him, wondering if he even realized how recklessly he was pushing the car or if he simply didn’t care.
His jaw was set in a hard line, his focus unwavering on the road ahead. Tension radiated from him, his arched brows drawn together in a way that made him look both dangerous and effortlessly attractive.
That was when I noticed it, the subtle slit in his left brow, adding to the enigmatic allure he carried so naturally.
Our lives were at the brink of death, yet, all I could think about was how painfully gorgeous he was.
Catalina was one lucky woman. To have this man entirely to herself. To hold the heart of someone who looked like he was sculpted by the gods themselves.
She should hold onto him tightly—because I wasn’t sure what I’d do if given the chance to take him. He was a masterpiece. An artwork carved from seduction and destruction.
From the way his dark curls faded at the sides to the sinful curve of his lips, lips I wanted to feel on every inch of my skin.
My gaze fell to his strong arms. The way they flexed as he handled the wheel. The way I knew they could hold me in place. Pin me down. Choke me….
Jesus.
Forgive me, Mother, for my thoughts of Raul D’Amano are laced with sin and pleasure.
“For someone who constantly reminds me that I’m married,you seem to be forgetting that yourself.”
His voice shattered my wicked thoughts.
I stiffened.
“The way you’re looking at me, tesoro, will get you into trouble.”
His voice was silk. Dangerous, smooth, and utterly sinful. It slid over me like a caress, settling low in my stomach, spreading heat between my thighs.
I swallowed hard and yanked my gaze away.
You’re right, Raul. Looking at you will get me into trouble. Trouble only you have the power to punish me for.
When we finally pulled up in front of my hotel, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Thank you, Mr. D’Amano,” I whispered, unbuckling my seatbelt. “For the ride. And… the penthouse.”
Just as my fingers brushed the door handle, his voice filled the car, stopping me in my tracks.
“Angel.”
The way he said my name made my body tense, heat prickling at my skin. Slowly, I turned to face him.
“Ye..yes, sir?”
“You’ll be coming to work every day.”
I frowned, my brows pulling together. “Even after my training? I still have about eight weeks to..."
“Yes, Angel.” His gaze was steady, unreadable. “I want you to continue your practice at the company. You shouldn't worry, I'll provide everything you need, to ensure your comfort, and per space."
Something about what he said it made my pulse spike, but I nodded anyway.
“Okay. Noted, sir,” I murmured.
For a moment, our eyes locked, and I found myself drowning in the deep oceans of his gaze.
“Goodnight, tesoro,” he said, his voice smooth and intoxicating, pulling me back to reality.
“Goodnight, Mr. D’Amano,” I murmured before stepping out.
The engine purred as he shifted gears, and I stood there, watching as he drove off, an involuntary smile creeping onto my lips.
Even the way he drove was sexy.
I shook my head, clearing my throat, and turned toward the hotel entrance. That’s when I heard them.
“Could she be Mr. D’Amano’s new slut?”
“No way. Mr. D’Amano is faithful to his wife. She’s probably just another desperate bitch throwing herself at him.”
"She doesn't even stand a chance against Catalina, who is a super model." Another scoffed.
Their whispers cut through the night, sharp and venomous, laced with judgment they had no right to make. I felt their eyes crawling over me, dissecting me, branding me with assumptions they didn’t understand, but I ignored them.
Head high, shoulders back, I walked straight toward the elevator.
Let them talk. Because they had no idea what kind of storm was brewing between Raul and me. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop it.