Sweet Hatred

The warmth of a body pressed close, firm, possessive. A palm landed on the railing beside mine, boxing me in. Not Marco. His.

Kael.

The energy in the air shifted instantly. I didn't have to turn to know he was smirking, because I could hear it in his damn voice.

"You wouldn't want to get the wrong idea," Kael murmured, his breath ghosting the side of my temple, "about what belongs to you Mr. Benedetti."

My pulse spiked. Marco paled and straightened, adjusting his tie, the confidence he had just seconds ago flickering, but not entirely extinguished.

"Ah, Mr. Roman," he said smoothly, "I was just getting to know your assistant better."

Kael chuckled—low, mocking. "Oh, I'm sure you were. But unfortunately for you, she's not very friendly." He turned his head slightly, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Are you, Aria?"

God, I wanted to elbow him in the ribs.

I smiled sweetly at the Marco. "Not particularly. I think already made that clear."

Marco exhaled a laugh, clearly not used to rejection. "Well, that's a shame."

"For you? Definitely," I quipped.

Kael loved that. I could feel it in the way his fingers briefly brushed my hip before he pulled away, leaving just enough space for me to breathe—but not enough to escape. The bastard.

Marco's mouth opened again, his voice barely slipping out to say something insignificant.

And then at both at once—

Our glares hit Marco like a sledgehammer. Cold. Unforgiving. Lethal.

Marco stilled. The cocky grin faded. His throat bobbed as he took an instinctive step back, his body reacting before his mind could even process why he suddenly felt like prey.

Marco let out an uneasy laugh, but I could see it—the uncertainty. He knew something was off, but he wasn't sure what. He turned his gaze to me, as if expecting me to come to his defense.

Instead, I took Kael's champagne from his hand letting my eyes drift away briefly to the city lines while I took a slow sip and back to Kael.

He exhaled, slow and amused. "You were saying?"

Marco stammered something unintelligible before clearing his throat and forcing a stiff smile. "I—uh, I think I'll go check on father."

He scurried away before either of us could say another word.

I finally turned to Kael fully, anger curling in my gut. "You were watching the entire time, weren't you?"

Kael tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What? You handled yourself beautifully. Why would I want to interrupt?"

I wanted to murder him.

Instead, I threw back the rest of his champagne handing him the empty flute and stalked past him. My shoulder deliberately brushed his arm as I passed. "Go to hell dick!"

Kael chuckled behind me, low and satisfied.

"I'll save you a seat, sweetheart."

^^^

More drinks kept coming.

I downed it like holy water, letting the heat burn the taste of Marco's name from my tongue—letting it blur Kael's silhouette across the room. His goddamn laughter sounded like gravel as he charmed the business vipers in tailored suits.

Three flutes. Four. Cocktails. Wine. My mouth was having a field day. A great time to be a seasoned alcoholic.

My limbs felt lighter. The world seemed to melt at the edges, Milan's skyline blending into a soft haze.

Enough.

I made my way out, slurring something about "personal business," earning a raised brow from Kael. His eyes followed me to the elevator, like a wolf watching its prey slip away.

Too bad I didn't care.

The hallway swayed. My keycard blinked red. Red again.

A staff member materialized, nervous. "Mr. Roman upgraded your suite. To his."

Of course he did. That son of a—".

I could've screamed. Could've stormed back to the dinner, shattered a whole bottle over his smug skull. But exhaustion weighed my bones like river stones.

Pick your battles Aria.

The suite swallowed me whole—all cold marble and floor-to-ceiling glass, smelling of him. Sandalwood and sin.

I kicked off my heels, their clatter too loud. Sank onto the couch, legs jelly, head tipped back, memories replaying again. The smug bastard was invading my thoughts more than I could handle. More than I could admit.

The silence here was different. Charged. A held breath.

My phone buzzed in my purse. I checked it, the words blurring but still vivid enough for me to be able to read. Missed calls. Messages. From Sarah, Olivia and an unknown number. I hummed a bit, deciding who to answer first but gave up almost instantly. I'd deal with that later.

And then the damp feeling of sweat overwhelmed me.

I need to shower. And fast. Before he returned.

I stumbled into the bathroom, dress pooling at my feet like a slain shadow. The mirror showed too much—cheeks flushed from wine, lips bitten raw, eyes glittering with frayed defiance.

The water was hot. But I loved the heat. I let it wash away the remnants of the evening, the lingering feel of Marco's eyes, Kael's control. Steam filled the bathroom. I leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy.

Hurry.

But the heat drugged me, pulling me under. My body relaxed, betrayed by its own response. The glass door fogged, hiding everything outside.

After a battle with sobriety, I stepped outside wrapping myself with the towel arranged conveniently and then my eyes caught it. A small box. "La Perla Maison collection" Tch! This predictable bastard. I walked past it but my feet betrayed me.

I turned back. My hands shot out before I could think, unboxing the little present.

And then—a short black silk night dress with black thong that barely covered anything.

A small humorless chuckle slipped past me, the fog from my eyes clearing. "Who does he think he's dealing with?" I murmured, flinging the materials back into the decorated box.

What a predictable fool.

I draped myself in comfortable robes instead and sunk back into the chair. TV on. Playing something I didn't really care about. And then I stood up again. Back to the lingerie. "Just to see how it looks on me. That's all" I told myself.

A mistake.

I didn't hear the suite door open. Didn't hear footsteps.

Only the click of the bedroom lock.

The click of the bedroom lock sent a jolt up my spine.

I could feel him there—the weight of him, the presence of him—thick, dark, suffocating.

My breath hitched. My heart pounded. I turned slowly . And there he was—Kael, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the air I breathed.

Like he was unraveling. Like he wanted me to see it.

His eyes burned into me—devoured me—soaking in every inch, every curve, every place he wanted to put his mouth—the sheer hunger in them sending a sharp thrill through my veins.

My skin prickled. He wasn't hiding it. The way he looked at me. The hunger. The pure, unfiltered desire.

I grabbed my robe, slipping in on fast and tugging it tight, forcing my legs to move past him, feigning indifference. But I felt the way his eyes dragged over me, the way his body shifted slightly—drawn in, pulled like a magnet. He saw through me. He always did.

His smirk curled slow. Lazy. Carnivorous. "Quite the show you were putting on for yourself."

Heat burned my cheeks, but I lifted my chin. "Seems like you have nothing better to do than spy."

He stepped closer, the air between us turning thick, suffocating. "I was just enjoying my investment." His voice dipped, smooth as whiskey. "And from the look on your face, so are you."

The audacity.

Ignoring him, I stormed into the sitting area, needing space, but his presence followed—a shadow with teeth.

"Running won't save you, firefly," he murmured. That damn nickname. His tie loosened, his fingers making slow work of the knot. "You've been itching for this."

Snap.

That was the sound of my self-control snapping like a frail thread.

I turned, fisting his tie, yanking him down to my level. His breath hitched—not in fear. In want.

I shouldn't have let my guard down. I admit.

But Kael?

He knew how to push me.

"Don't push it." I breathed. My voice was lethal.

He didn't flinch. Smug bastard.

"Or what?" His gaze dragged lower, smearing on my lips like a sinful promise. "You'll bite me? Or sink your nails instead?"

His eyes glowed, a deep, venomous green.

And I swore—I could feel the poison sinking into me.

My throat was dry. I swallowed hard.

"I'll gut you." The words slipped out like a vow.

He laughed. Low, dark, amused and leaned further.

"Remember, firefly…" His voice dipped, sending a stream of dynamite down my spine, waiting to ignite.

"It's my authority against your rebellion."

"And?"

I refused to bend to him. To make it easy.

But my body? It was betraying me.

My pulse hammered. A dangerous need coiled tight in my stomach. My nipples slowly hardened, the silk fabric grazing them lightly.

Then—he stepped even closer. Our lips practically begging to touch.

His breath was hot. Lethal.

"Take it off. The robe."

This fucking—

I scoffed, arms crossing, my glare sharp enough to cut him open.

"You'll have to rip it off me."

His smile dropped into pure venom.

Test him. Just like he was testing me. Push him.

I released his tie, turning on my heel—

One grip.

Swift. Unyielding.

Before I could can react, I was airborne.

Slung over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

I thrashed. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

His grip was stone. Too fucking strong.

"Exactly what you want, firefly," he murmured, voice like molten sin, carrying me toward the bedroom.

Butterflies swarmed my stomach. Clashing. Fighting. Hate. Excitement. Need.

Fuck it.