Temptation of her Flame ✔️

chapter nine

aria+vincenzo, aria+emma, vincenzo+damon or emma+damon, hm?

(bad things by MGK and camila cabello)

VINCENZO

My cause of death: Aria fucking Garcia.

There was no 'last time' I felt this abrupt burst of admiration and nervousness in my chest. It was a first for me, and it was an issue. I didn't recognise this brewing feeling, and I hope for the sake of my mental health that it wasn't an obsession.

She was beautiful, and she used it as a weapon against the world.

For the first time in my life, I felt like a pawn. It felt like she was manipulating my feelings because there were no rational reasons to like her. I had seen and dated women who looked near-flawless and extraordinary, and I hadn't felt a connection to them. They were in the palm of my hands, affection and desire in their gazes.

The first time I saw Aria, she perfectly resembled Carrie soaked in blood. She came as a patient, and I was now voluntarily taking her out on a date. This was a plain absurdity.

Perhaps, it was the way Aria didn't seem to desire me. She didn't want me and didn't look at me like she needed me, so I wanted her to want me.

And I needed answers. I detested liars.

But I loved pride where it was due, and Aria deserved every drop of confidence she possessed. I could feel the shift of my expression, the sudden tension in the room and the urge to reach out. The temptation to clasp her hand in mine was a fuming, living thing, and I didn't quite mind another knife to my throat.

I came closer to the foot of the stairs. She looked at me expectantly, and I couldn't help but smile at her boldness.

Out of decency, I didn't grab her hand but instead held it out. She had the nerve to consider before conceding, but the feel of her soft skin was worth the wait. I brushed an intentional thumb over her knuckles, and she shivered as if I'd touched somewhere inappropriate.

That was how I knew that she felt how I did. She could feel this electricity between us, and she chose to deny it.

I led her out to my car, trying so hard to avoid staring at her figure in that dress. I had to forcefully pull my gaze away from the unfamiliar accentuation of her facial attributes. Her scars made her look like a warrior, and I knew without a doubt she was one.

She stepped into the vehicle, and by the time I entered my side of the car to drive, I had no appetite for breakfast. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to taste her so bad that holding back felt like physical torture.

My senses returned only when I operated my car beyond the gate leading to my house. The uproar was intense and immediate. Paparazzi and reporters swarmed the vehicle like rabid dogs, knocking on my bulletproof windows and yelling.

Instructing Aria about public interest had completely slipped my mind, and I could only pray that she would cover her face and spare me from question invasions.

She did not.

Instead, she smiled the rare and broad smile that would sweep anyone off their feet and winked for the cameras.