Chapter 27: CHAPTER 24:MENTIROSA

Neti

I can’t breathe.

The moment I slam my door shut, I start pacing, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as my thoughts swirl into a storm I can’t control.

What the hell just happened?

One second, I was trapped in the past, caught in the melody of a song I swore I’d forgotten. The next, I was in his lap, his hands gripping me like I belonged there, his voice a slow, sinful whisper that still lingers in my ears.

I shake my head, pressing my palms against my temples. No. I refuse to let him play with me like this.

The tension coils too tightly in my chest, making my skin feel hot, my mind restless. I need to breathe. I need to calm down.

A shower.

Yes. A cold shower.

I stride toward the attached bathroom, throwing open the door. My breath catches for a different reason this time.

Luxury.

The bathroom looks like something out of a five-star resort—marble floors, a chandelier that casts a golden glow, and in the center, a massive clawfoot bathtub, the kind designed for indulgence. The kind that makes you forget you’re someone’s prisoner.

For a moment, I just stand there, letting the sheer opulence of it mock me.

Then I shake myself out of it, twisting the knobs until water begins to fill the tub, steam curling into the air.

I strip down, slipping into the warmth, letting it swallow me whole.

My muscles slowly relax, the heat unraveling some of the knots in my body, but my mind refuses to quiet. His hands on my waist. His voice in my ear. Do I make you nervous?

I close my eyes, sinking deeper, trying to drown the memory.

By the time I emerge, my skin is flushed from the heat, my dark hair damp and scented with the luxurious shampoo that lingers in the air. I towel off quickly, slipping into a black t-shirt and gray pants, something simple, something comfortable.

Something that should make me feel less exposed.

But the second I step back into my bedroom, I freeze.

He’s here.

Sitting on my bed.

Adolph leans back against the headboard, one arm draped casually over the pillows, his long legs stretched out, completely at ease. The dim lighting makes him look even more sinful, shadows accentuating the sharp angles of his face, the lazy smirk playing on his lips.

His eyes drag over me, slow and deliberate, his gaze darkening.

I clutch the towel in my hands, my heartbeat thudding against my ribs. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

His smirk deepens. “Waiting for you, of course.”

I narrow my eyes. “Get out.”

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he tilts his head, watching me like a predator watches something small and trembling. “Tch. Qué lástima.” His voice is low, amused. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

What a shame.

I grit my teeth. “Not in my bed, Adolph.”

He sighs, shaking his head like I’m exhausting him. “You wound me, mi reina.” His fingers toy lazily with the edge of my pillow. “You smell… sweet.” His gaze flickers to my damp hair. “Did you do that for me?”

I stiffen, heat creeping up my neck. “I did it for me.”

His smirk turns wicked. “Mentirosa.” He pats the space beside him. “Come here.”

Liar.

I laugh—sharp, disbelieving. “Are you insane?”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the sheets. “I think you like testing my patience.” His voice dips lower, silk and steel. “Do you want to see what happens when you push me too far, Neti?”

My stomach flips, but I force my voice to stay steady. “I don’t play your games.”

His eyes glint. “Oh, mi reina,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “You’ve been playing from the moment you walked into this house.”

I take a step back, needing space, needing air.

But then he moves.

In one fluid motion, he’s off the bed and in front of me, closing the distance so fast my breath stutters.

I tilt my head up, my pulse thundering. He’s too close. Again. The scent of him—expensive cologne, something dark and intoxicating—mixes with the lingering sweetness of my shampoo, creating something dizzying.

He lifts a hand slowly, tracing his fingers through the damp strands of my hair, his touch featherlight. “Still wet.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “You should’ve dried it. What if you catch a cold?”

I clench my fists. “I don’t need your concern.”

His thumb brushes against my cheek, soft but possessive. “That’s the problem, mi reina.” His lips curl into a smirk, dark and teasing. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

I hate the way my stomach twists.

I hate the way he looks at me, like he owns every part of me.

But most of all, I hate the terrifying truth in his words.

Because he’s right.

I don’t have a choice.

Not with him.

Not anymore.

__________❤️💀❤️___________

I should’ve known better.

I should’ve expected this.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for the sight of him, lounging on my bed like he belongs there, like I belong to him.

Adolph is stretched out against the silk sheets, one arm draped over the pillows, his body relaxed in a way that only makes him look more dangerous. The dim glow of the chandelier casts long shadows over his face, making his sharp cheekbones and sculpted jawline look almost inhuman. Predatory.

And his eyes—

Dios mío.

My God

Dark, piercing, hungry.

They rake over me, lingering on my damp hair, the way my black T-shirt clings to my skin, the curve of my waist beneath the loose gray pants. A slow smirk curls his lips, as if he already knows how fast my pulse is beating.

As if he can hear it.

My fingers tighten around the towel in my hands. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

His smirk deepens. “Esperando por ti, mi reina.” His voice is pure sin, dripping with amusement. “You took your time.”

Waiting for you, my queen.

I scowl. “Get out.”

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he tilts his head, watching me with that same unreadable expression that makes my stomach coil in warning. “Qué lástima.” He sighs as if I’m the one being difficult. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

What a shame.

My jaw tightens. “Not in my bed, Adolph.”

He chuckles, running his fingers across the silk sheets. “It’s mine, actually.” His voice drops lower, teasing. “Like everything else in this house. Like everything else that touches you.”

My breath hitches.

His fingers lazily trail over my pillow, and something about the way he does it—slow, deliberate—makes heat crawl up my spine. “You smell different.” His gaze flickers to my damp hair, his voice thick with amusement. “Tan dulce... Did you do that for me?”

So sweet...

I glare at him. “I did it for me.”

His smirk sharpens. “Mentirosa.” His voice is like a blade wrapped in silk. “You’ve always wanted to please me.”

Liar

The air shifts.

Heavy. Charged.

My breath is unsteady, my skin too hot despite the cool air in the room.

He moves.

One second, he’s on the bed. The next—

He’s in front of me.

Too close

Again

The scent of him—rich cologne and something darker, something dangerous—wraps around me, filling my lungs, drowning out everything else.

I step back. He steps forward.

A wicked glint flashes in his eyes, as if he enjoys this game. As if he enjoys the way I react to him.

His fingers reach out—light, teasing—and brush against my damp strands. “Still wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “You should’ve dried it.” His thumb ghosts over my jaw, slow and possessive. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, piccola.”

I swallow hard, refusing to let my voice shake. “I don’t need your concern.”

His smirk turns sharper, more dangerous. “That’s the problem, mi reina.” His fingers trail lower, down the curve of my neck, pressing against my racing pulse. “You think you have a choice.”

My breath stutters.

His touch is featherlight but commanding, like he’s testing me, waiting to see how far I’ll let him go.

I should push him away.

I should tell him to stop.

But my body—my traitorous body—is frozen, heat curling low in my stomach, something dark and forbidden twisting inside me.

“Look at you.” His voice is pure decadence, thick with amusement. “Temblando.” His lips hover near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Are you nervous, Neti?”

(Shaking.)

I force myself to glare. “No.”

A slow, deep chuckle vibrates against my throat.

“Mentirosa.”

(Liar.)

Before I can respond, he does something reckless.

Something that destroys the last shred of space between us.

His hands grip my waist, and in one swift movement, I’m lifted—

I gasp—

And suddenly, I’m on the bed.

Under him.

His weight cages me in, his body a wall of warmth, solid and unrelenting. My heart is a frantic drumbeat against my ribs, my breaths shallow as I stare up at him in shock.

But his expression is unreadable now.

Not teasing.

Not amused.

Something else.

Something darker.

His fingers press into my hips, his grip firm, possessive. “You keep running from me,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “But every time, I catch you.” His lips hover just above mine, a breath away. “Tell me, Neti... how long are you going to keep pretending?”

Heat burns through me, my skin hypersensitive, every nerve in my body tangled in the way he’s looking at me.

Like he owns me.

Like he always has.

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

And then—

His mouth brushes against my ear, his voice dark and dripping with promise.

“You can fight me all you want,” he whispers, his hands tightening on my waist. “But eventually... you’ll surrender.”

Even I doubt myself...

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Doubled and dark for you all

Byee 333

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