STEFANO
I watch Andrea's retreating form, her hips swaying seductively with each step. The sight would typically set my blood on fire, but right now, a different kind of heat simmers in my veins - the slow burn of frustration and confusion. It's a foreign feeling, not knowing what I did to provoke her anger. Usually, I'm all too aware of the buttons I've pushed, the lines I've crossed. But I'm at a loss this time, and it doesn't sit well with me. Not one fucking bit.
I pull out my phone and dial the one person who might have some insight into the inner workings of Andrea's mind - my sister, Aurora. She picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and bubbly as always. "Hello, brother!"
"Andrea is angry with me," I say without preamble, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
"Isn't she always?" Aurora quips, and I can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.
"This time, it's different." I quickly recount our conversation, the words bitter on my tongue.
Aurora's sharp intake of breath crackles through the speaker. "You fucked up!" she hisses, her tone making it clear just how badly I've stepped in it.
"How?" I demand, my grip tightening on the phone.
"I'm not going into details, but Andrea is sensitive about situations like this. I advise you to apologize and tell her who fucking attacked you." She pauses, her voice softening slightly. "And I can't believe you weren't going to tell me. Are you okay? Were you hurt in any way?"
I tune out her concerned rambling, my mind already racing with this new information. Andrea has always been an enigma, a puzzle I couldn't quite solve. Five years ago, I thought I had her figured out. But now, I realize just how little I know about the woman who simultaneously infuriates and captivates me.
"Thank you, Aurora," I cut in, not wanting to hear any more of her fretting. "And don't you fucking dare tell mom about what happened. Goodbye." I hang up before she can protest, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
I lean against the wall, dragging a hand down my face as I try to make sense of it all. I want to understand why my words struck such a nerve with Andrea, but I don't have the first clue where to start. With a growl of frustration, I push off the wall and head toward my room to shower. I have business to attend to, and I can't afford to be distracted by a pair of blue eyes and a sharp tongue, no matter how tempting they may be.
***
Later in the day, I return home, frustration simmering beneath my skin after a fruitless attempt to uncover the identity of my attackers. The kitchen beckons, and I head straight for the fridge, seeking the cool relief of water to quench the fire in my veins. I'm on my second glass when the soft padding of footsteps alerts me to another presence.
I turn, the fridge door swinging shut behind me, and the sight that greets me steals the breath from my lungs. Andrea stands in the doorway, her long legs on display in a pair of sinfully short shorts, the smooth expanse of her neck and collarbones tantalizingly exposed by the thin straps of her camisole. My gaze rakes over her, drinking in every curve and dip before finally meeting her eyes.
But she holds my stare for only a moment before looking away, her jaw tight with lingering anger. The sight of her displeasure sits like a lead weight in my gut. I don't like it. I don't fucking like it one bit.
Clearing my throat, I break the tense silence before she can leave. "I don't know," I say, the words heavy on my tongue. She pauses, her back still turned to me, but I know she's listening. "The only leads I have so far come from the bullets that were shot at me that night. They're unique, but even that's barely anything." I place one of the bullets on the counter between us, a small peace offering.
She turns then, her eyes flicking to the bullet before meeting mine. "Do you know the person who might likely sell such bullets?" she asks, her voice cool and measured.
I nod. "Yes."
"He refused to give you the name?"
I shake my head, frustration coiling in my chest. "He's refused to even meet."
Her brow furrows, a calculating look in her eye. "Then ambush him. Or even kidnap him," she suggests a hint of steel beneath her words.
A smirk tugs at my lips. This is the Andrea I know - fierce, ruthless, unafraid to do what needs to be done. "He's not easy to access. But I plan to attend a dinner ball he's hosting tomorrow." I pause, an idea forming. "Do you have an evening gown?"
She blinks, surprise flitting across her face. "No, I don't. And why am I coming?"
"Because I need a date," I explain, reaching into my pocket and retrieving my black card. With a nonchalant gesture, I hold it out to her. "Get yourself something nice to wear."
She eyes the card warily. "I have my own money."
"I didn't ask if you did."
Her lips curve into a smile that's equal parts amused and dangerous. "Hmm, that tone of yours is making me want to empty your bank account."
I close the distance between us, her scent enveloping me like a warm embrace. It takes every ounce of my control not to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. "Even with your shopping addiction, you wouldn't be able to," I tell her, my voice low and rough.
She arches a brow. "Is that so?"
"Yes," I reply, holding her gaze, unwilling to back down from the challenge sparking in her eyes.
"No problem. We'll find out tomorrow." With a final, triumphant smile, she turns and walks away, her hips swaying with each step.
I watch her go, my eyes helplessly trailing after her retreating form. Fuck, the woman is a walking temptation. Every time she's near, I have to forcibly remind myself that she's off-limits, that I can't see her as anything more than my sister's best friend. But it's a herculean task when she's got a body that could bring a man to his knees and a spirit to match.
She's untouchable, forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach. Even if Aurora's friendship wasn't a factor, there are other reasons, deep, soul-scarring reasons, why I can never cross that line. Shaking my head, I push off the counter and head for the shower. The day was long, and I couldn't wait to crawl into bed.
ANDREA
The following morning, I wake with a sense of purpose, excitement already thrumming through my veins. Today, I'm on a mission - to make a sizable dent in Stefano's bank account and prove a point. I've spent my father's money countless times to get his attention, but with Stefano, it's different. This isn't about seeking approval; it's about showing him that I'm not to be underestimated.
I breeze through the mall like a woman possessed, my arms quickly laden with shopping bags from every high-end store I pass. The thrill of the hunt, the rush of swiping that black card - it's intoxicating. I can almost picture the look on Stefano's face when he sees the damage I've done, and it only spurs me on.
My phone buzzes incessantly in my pocket; no doubt Stefano trying to reach me, but I ignore it. I want the full impact of my shopping spree to hit him all at once, without warning.
I make my way to a cozy little restaurant before continuing my shopping excursion, my growling stomach urging me to satisfy its hunger pangs. I didn't have breakfast before I left. The aroma of freshly cooked meals wafts through the air, making my mouth water. I settle into a seat by the window, the warm sunlight streaming in and casting a golden glow over the table.
After placing my order, I pull out my phone, seeking a momentary escape. I click on a compilation of cat videos. Soft giggles escape my lips as I watch a particularly playful kitten tumble head over heels, lost in the simple joy of the moment.
"What's a beautiful lady like you doing out here all alone?" a deep, rich voice interrupts my reverie.
Squinting against the sun's glare, I glance up to find a striking figure standing before me. Tanned skin, raven hair that looks silky to the touch, and piercing blue eyes that seem to see straight into my soul.
"Eating," I state the obvious, a hint of amusement coloring my tone.
A confident grin spreads across his handsome face. "Would you care if I join you, Krasivyy?"
Usually, I would politely decline, preferring my solitude. But something about his boldness, the way he carries himself with an easy charm, intrigues me.
Before I can second-guess myself, the words tumble from my lips. "Sure, no problem." I gesture to the seat across from me, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
As he settles in, he extends a hand. "I'm Ivan Yurin. And you are?"
"Andrea Lopez." I accept his handshake, his skin warm and slightly calloused against mine. Up close, I can't help but admire the sharp lines of his jaw and his lips' fullness. He's undeniably handsome, though my traitorous mind whispers that he can't hold a candle to Stefano's enigmatic allure.
"I couldn't help but notice you watching cat videos," Ivan says, a twinkle in his eye. "I have one myself, a British Shorthair. Her name is Emma." He pulls out his phone, showing me his wallpaper – an adorable grey cat with round, expressive eyes.
"She's so cute!" I gush, taking his phone for a closer look. The fact that he's a fellow cat lover only endears him to me more.
Ivan chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. And just like that, we're off, diving into a conversation that flows as easily as breathing. We swap stories about our feline companions, bonding over the quirks and joys of cat ownership.
To my surprise, our discussion naturally segues into business, our mutual passion for our work shining through. Ivan is knowledgeable and engaging, and his insights are both thought-provoking and refreshing. The connection between us is instant, almost uncanny in its depth as if we've known each other for years rather than mere minutes.
As our plates empty and the conversation winds down, I find myself reluctant to say goodbye. There's a magnetic pull, a sense that this chance encounter could be the start of something extraordinary.
We exchange numbers, our fingers brushing as we hand back our phones, electricity sparking at the contact. "Let's do this again soon," Ivan suggests, his smile filled with promise.
"Definitely," I agree, already looking forward to our next meeting.
With a final wave, I head back into the bustling mall and resume shopping. By the time I've exhausted every possible purchase, my arms are aching, and my feet are throbbing in my stilettos. But the satisfaction coursing through me is better than any high. I stop by a nearby shelter and donate half of my haul. It's not like I need any of it - the real prize is the look on Stefano's face when I return. The moment I step into the penthouse, I'm greeted by a sight that has me grinning from ear to ear. Stefano is pacing the living room, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw clenched tight. When he sees me, his eyes widen, taking in the numerous bags still dangling from my arms.
"You spent half a million dollars in two hours," he says, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger. "What the fuck did you buy?"
I let the bags drop to the floor with a thud, my smile never wavering. "I thought you said I couldn't do it," I reply, my tone saccharine sweet.
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "Yeah, because I didn't think you would spend half a million dollars in two hours!"
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "I saw something I liked, and I bought it. Simple." I pause, letting my words sink in. "And besides, it barely made a difference to your balance."
His eyes narrow, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Of course, it didn't. I'm just shocked you spent so much in such a short time."
I step closer, holding his gaze, a challenge sparking between us. "Don't test me. Next time, it'll be half your balance that's gone."
With that, I turn on my heel and saunter towards my room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. The satisfaction of putting him in his place, of proving that I'm not some delicate flower to be underestimated, is sweeter than any designer label or expensive trinket.
But beneath the thrill of victory, something else is stirring - a fluttering sensation in my chest that I can't quite name. The way Stefano looks at me, the scorching heat in his gaze even when he's angry, awakens something deep inside me that I've tried to bury for years. And I realize with a start that I crave that feeling. I revel in the spark it ignites within me.