Chapter 2: At Least He's Hot

Aria's POV

My head is splitting.

That's the first thing I feel when I wake up.

The second thing is: I'm tied to a bed.

What the fuck.

My eyes snap open. Unfamiliar ceiling. Crystal chandelier. Décor that screams too much money.

This isn't my apartment.

This isn't anywhere I know.

I look down at myself.

A thin slip dress. Black, silk, definitely not mine.

Did Ethan dress me in this?

That sick bastard.

I try pulling at the restraints on my wrists. Silk rope, loose enough not to hurt but tight enough to hold. And then I feel it.

Heat.

My whole body burning up.

Not fever burning. Something else.

Shit. The drug hasn't worn off yet.

What the hell did Ethan give me?

The door opens.

A man walks in.

I'm ready to scream, ready to threaten police and lawsuits and destroying whoever's behind this. Then I see his face.

Fuck.

At least he's hot.

That's the first thought in my head, before any rational thinking kicks in.

He's tall. Six three, maybe more. Dark hair slicked back perfectly with a few strands falling forward. Eyes so deep brown they look like they could swallow you whole. The suit fits him like it was made for his body. Probably was.

And that face.

Jesus, that face.

Sharp jaw, straight nose, and those lips...

I bite my own lip hard.

Focus, Aria. You've been kidnapped. This isn't the time to drool.

But the drug.

The damn drug is making my body have ideas of its own.

"You're awake," he says.

Low voice, trace of an Italian accent.

Of course. Dante Valentino.

"Untie me," I say. My voice comes out huskier than I want.

He moves closer to the bed, hands in his pockets, looking down at me like I'm something mildly interesting.

"Your ex-boyfriend dropped you off," he says, casual as discussing the weather. "Left a note saying you're his 'best asset.' Thought you might help me 'calm down.'"

My stomach lurches.

Not from nausea.

From rage.

That asshole. That fucking asshole actually sent me like a gift basket.

"So you tied me up?" I grit out.

"Technically, he's the one who tied you up and delivered you," Dante says. "I just didn't untie you."

"Well, do it now."

"Why the rush?" He tilts his head, eyes traveling over me. "You look uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable is putting it mildly.

I feel like I'm on fire.

The drug burning through my bloodstream. Every inch of skin oversensitive. I can feel the silk sheets rubbing against my legs. Feel the dress straps sliding over my shoulders.

Feel his gaze on me like a physical touch.

"He drugged you," Dante says suddenly. "Some kind of aphrodisiac. Strong stuff."

"I noticed," I bite out. "So untie me and let me leave."

"You sure you want to leave?"

He takes another step closer.

I can smell him now. Expensive cologne mixed with whiskey and cigars.

Man smell.

My body responds.

No.

No no no.

I cannot be reacting to my kidnapper.

But the drug doesn't care about my moral compass.

"You..." My voice shakes. "You should back off."

"Why?" The corner of his mouth lifts in a dangerous smile. "Because you want me closer?"

Asshole.

Arrogant asshole.

But he's right.

I do.

The heat pooling low in my stomach has nothing to do with anger anymore. My skin feels too tight. My breath coming too fast. And the way he's looking at me, like I'm prey he's deciding whether to devour...

"This isn't fair," I whisper.

"Life rarely is." He reaches out, fingers brushing my wrist where the silk rope holds me. "But I'll make you a deal."

"What deal?"

"I untie you." His thumb traces circles on my pulse point. "And you decide what happens next."

I should tell him to fuck off. Should demand he call me a cab. Should get the hell out of here and never look back.

But the drug is making my thoughts fuzzy. And under the drug, there's something else. Something I don't want to examine too closely.

When did someone last look at me like this? Like I'm worth wanting, not just convenient to have around?

When did Ethan stop seeing me and start seeing what I could do for him?

Later, I'll blame the drug.

I'll say it was Ethan's fault, his drug, his delivery.

But right now, as Dante leans in and unties one wrist, then the other, I know the truth.

The truth is I want this.

Not just because of the drug.

Because of the way he's looking at me. Like I'm a challenge worth conquering, not a tool to be sacrificed.

Because I haven't been looked at like that in so long.

Because I need to feel something, anything strong enough to cover up the pain of Ethan's betrayal.

So when Dante unties the last restraint, I don't push him away.

I grab his tie and pull him down to me.

Our mouths crash together.

He freezes for a second.

Then he kisses me back.

Hard, demanding, like everything else he does.

His hand tangles in my hair. His body presses me into the mattress. And I let him, because right now I need to feel something other than stupid and used and worthless.

I need to feel wanted.

Even if it's by a criminal. Even if it's wrong. Even if tomorrow I'll hate myself for it.

Tonight, I just need to feel.

I wake up sore all over.

The good kind of sore.

Dante is sitting across the room on a leather chair, fully dressed, reading something on his tablet. Like we didn't just... Like I didn't...

I pull the sheet up to cover myself.

"Morning," he says without looking up.

"You're an asshole," I tell him.

"That's not what you were saying last night."

My face burns.

Damn it.