Snapping Point

28.

Represent?

For the fraction of a second, surprise captured my tongue and I basked under the warmth of that grey stare. I humbly glanced up at him, taking pleasure in the afterglow of a good stare. He sure knew how to stir things up with his eyes.

Warding off the entirety of his statement, I focused on how his proximity was making me feel stimulated. His grip on my waist made me gasp for air as he neared like the former presence wasn't riveting enough.

His nose against my ear was matched only by the electric touch of his hand on my bare waist. What unsettled me was how effortlessly he had breached my defenses, his hand finding its place without any barriers, not even the protection of my hoodie.

"You're trembling, Xenia." His voice went straight into my ear. His grip hardened on my bare skin as if I'd given him the permission to be there at all. "Is it fear or excitement? Or perhaps a bit of both?"

Devil. I stifled a curse, struggling to focus on anything other than the overwhelming impact of his presence, much like the last time he had invaded my privacy. Back then, I had been confined to his bedroom, but now, the setting was different—yet the effect was the same. His scent of tobacco, his rough hands, his commanding presence—I couldn't contend with any of it, let alone all together.

My breathing had scattered. Romano felt it, which made him even more convinced that I was both terrified of him and thrilled.

"You're like a fucking butterfly," he sneered, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Darting around where you don't belong, places where you're useless. Picture this—I snap your neck right here, no sweat. And Ivan? He'll find someone more suitable for the job, pronto."

His words felt like a soft bite against my cheek, but before I could dwell on the sensation, he continued, "Think long and hard before saying yes to every mission they throw your way. You can't even handle talking to me, let alone getting physical. I might just forget how fucking small you are and lose my nonexistent manners." His grip moved to my neck to thicken the threat. "And as for anything sexual? You better not mortify yourself."

"I'm not trying to compete with you," I managed to stutter, feeling my pulse tighten as his grip constricted around my neck.

Suddenly, he released me entirely.

Nervousness had swiftly morphed into uncertainty within moments. As I stepped back to regain control of my demeanor, Romano followed, seemingly intent on stripping it away forcefully. The smug expression on his face hinted at his enjoyment of my unraveling composure.

"The femme fatale stuck without a plan?" His gaze swept over me. I held my breath, unable to respond. Panic, confusion, and desire swirled in my chest, the cold room suddenly feeling suffocatingly hot. "Someone better let your uncle know what a moron move it is to pit me against this."

Ignoring his condescending gesture at me, I focused on finding a better anchor in this tense situation. "What do I represent?" I managed to ask about what he'd meant by that vague dialogue, my voice barely more than a whisper, my will urging me to break free from the cage his body was forming around me.

Instead of answering verbally, Romano's fingers spoke for him as they slipped under my hoodie once again, this time boldly moving to my bra and sliding under the strap. His hand rested provocatively on the small of my back, daring me to resist him. The gesture alone made my cheeks burn with embarrassment; I could feel the heat radiating from them, knowing I was flushed with color.

His weight pressed against me, pinning me against the wall behind me. I suppressed the moan that warned me of its presence.

Why would I allow myself to surrender? He had just declared me incapable of captivating him. His type thrived on pushing you to the brink and keeping you off balance, and when it was time to stop you from falling, they'd watch you tumble, laughing all the while. I couldn't give him that pleasure.