Chapter 12

She looks absolutely stunning. Her sleeveless gown, with a slightly deep neckline that subtly highlights the swell of her breast, drapes elegantly over her figure. The high slit along her leg reveals a glimpse of her toned thigh, drawing my eyes to her effortless grace. The sight alone makes my pulse quicken. I shift in my seat, adjusting myself as a noticeable hardness presses against my pants, completely captivated by her allure.

She stood across the room, talking to Kia, her expression calm and poised. Even though we were in the same space, she felt miles away, untouchable. My fingers curled into fists as I watched her, wanting—no, needing—to close that distance.

Adrian's irritating voice cut through my thoughts. "They're out of our league, pal. Stop dreaming."

I exhaled sharply, rolling my eyes. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. Just because Kia won't even glance in your direction doesn't mean my equation with Iliana is the same."

Adrian snickered, nudging me with his elbow.

I clenched my jaw, the muscles ticking in irritation. "Unlike you, I don't chase. I take." My voice dropped lower, laced with quiet authority. "And when I decide I want something, I don't fucking stop until it's mine."

Adrian just chuckled, shaking his head like I was delusional, but I ignored him. My gaze returned to Iliana.

She had no idea what she did to me. The way her gown hugged her body, the delicate curve of her throat when she tilted her head back to laugh, the way her toned leg peeked through the slit of her dress, it was driving me insane.

I wanted to walk up to her, wrap my fingers around her waist, and kiss her senseless until my name was the only thing she could think of. I wanted every fucker in this room eyeing her to know that she belonged to me.

But I wasn't a fool, I wouldn't do anything she didn't want. Ever.

Then I saw him.

Some rich little prick with a trust fund haircut and an air of entitlement strolled up to her, flashing a practiced smirk. He reeked of privilege, the kind of guy who had never lifted a damn finger in his life, who had everything handed to him on a silver platter. I clenched my jaw, my fingers twitching at my sides as I watched him lean in slightly, trying to pull her attention toward him.

I narrowed my eyes, my blood humming with irritation as the guy chuckled, taking that as an invitation to keep talking.

My feet were already moving before I made the conscious decision to step in.

"You look incredible tonight," he continued, his voice dripping with forced charm. "I was thinking, maybe later—"

I didn't let him finish.

I closed the distance between us in seconds, slipping an arm around Iliana's waist like it had always belonged there.

She stiffened, her breath catching as she turned her head slightly toward me, her wide eyes filled with surprise. The guy, on the other hand, froze, his smug expression faltering as he registered my presence, my claim.

Kia, standing beside Iliana, remained blank-faced, watching the scene unfold with mild interest.

I tilted my head, locking eyes with the bastard in front of me. "Something wrong?" I asked, my voice deceptively calm.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing as he quickly looked between me and Iliana. "I—uh—was just catching up."

I let a slow smirk curl my lips. "Yeah? Well, she's busy." My grip on Iliana's waist tightened just enough to make my point clear.

He hesitated, but he wasn't stupid. With one last glance at Iliana, he gave a forced chuckle and muttered something about getting another drink before slinking away.

Iliana finally turned fully to look at me, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but I wasn't ready to answer her yet.

I leaned in slightly, my breath warm against her ear. My grip on her waist didn't waver, my touch firm but effortless.

"Doll," I murmured, my voice smooth, unbothered. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Like nothing had just happened. Like I hadn't just made it painfully clear to every bastard in this room who she belonged to.

For the first time, she remains speechless. Iliana blinked up at me, still processing, her body tense against mine. For a second, she looked like she might protest but then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she nodded.

I smirked. That's my girl.

I led her onto the dance floor, my grip still firm on her waist. The moment we stepped into the center, the room faded into the background. It was just us, just the heat between our bodies, just the pull neither of us wanted to name.

Iliana placed her hand in mine, her touch soft but certain. She wasn't shy, not in the way most people were around me. She wasn't afraid to meet my eyes, to challenge me in the smallest ways.

The music was slow, something sensual, but Iliana, ever unpredictable, decided to make it..not that.

A grin tugged at her lips as she suddenly tried to twirl me.

Me.

I didn't budge. I barely even shifted my weight.

She blinked up at me, pouting when she realized I wasn't going along with her ridiculous attempt. "What the hell," she teased, her voice light with amusement. "Where are your manners? Do you want me to call women helpline about how you are bullying me?"

I arched a brow, unimpressed. "I don't twirl, doll."

She huffed, clearly not pleased with my lack of cooperation, but her pout only made my smirk deepen. She had no idea what she did to me, how fucking adorable she looked when she got all stubborn like that.

Instead of entertaining her attempt to throw me off, I pulled her in, closing the space between us. My hand slid lower, resting just above the dip of her spine, pressing her flush against me.

Her breath hitched.

"You like messing with me," I murmured, my lips close to her ear, my voice low and deliberate. "But be careful, doll."

She swallowed, her hands gripping my shoulders, her body reacting even if her mind was trying to keep up. "And why is that?"

I dragged my thumb in slow, idle circles against her back, savoring the way she shivered in my hold.

"Because I don't play," I said, my tone smooth, unwavering. "I take."

Around us, people watched. I could feel their stares, hear the hushed murmurs as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. Why someone like her: radiant, effortless, was tangled up with someone like me.

But I don't give a fuck. Their opinions meant nothing.

Because right now, Iliana was in my arms, her body pressed against mine, and whether she realized it or not, she wasn't pulling away.

She had my full attention.

And the best part?

I had hers too.

I glance over Iliana's shoulder, my eyes landing on Adrian with Kia. She's sipping her cocktail, her expression unreadable, but to my surprise, she actually seems to be listening to whatever bullshit he's saying.

Then Adrian catches my eye.

His gaze flickers to Iliana in my arms, and a knowing smirk tugs at his lips. With an infuriating ease, he lifts his glass in a silent toast before turning back to Kia, completely unfazed.

Cocky bastard.

A ghost of a smirk plays at my own lips as I shift my focus back to the woman pressed against me.

Iliana's head rests lightly against my chest, her body fitting against mine like she was meant to be there. My fingers flex against the curve of her waist, holding her close, keeping her right where I want her.

I lower my head slightly, letting my lips hover just above her temple, my voice dropping into something dangerously smooth. "You comfortable there, doll?" I murmur, my breath warm against her skin. "Starting to think you like being in my arms."

She doesn't pull away.

Doesn't deny it.

And that's all the confirmation I need.

Her scent hits me, warm, intoxicating, like vanilla and something softly floral, something purely her. It's subtle but lethal, slipping under my skin, making it impossible to think about anything else.

I drag in a slow breath, letting it consume me, and the only thing I want, the only thing I can fucking think about—is burying my face in the curve of her neck. Pressing my lips against that soft, tempting skin.

Before I could do something I shouldn't do. Yet. Kia strides toward us, her heels clicking against the floor, slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Alright, likebirds," she says, arching a perfectly shaped brow. "It's midnight, everything's winding down, and I'm officially done with socializing. Let's head home before I lose my patience. I would have left you here but you are my ride"

Iliana tilts her head back, eyes sparkling with sarcasm. "Aw, Kia, your love for me is overwhelming. Really. I might just shed a tear." She places a finger near her dry eyes. "Oh wait nothing is here—false alarm."

Kia rolls her eyes. "Move it before I actually leave you here."

I run my hands along the length of her arm softly. "Guess your ride's here, doll," I murmur, my voice smooth, unbothered, but my grip stays firm like I'm daring her to make the first move.

She arches a brow. "Wow, you're just gonna let me go with her? She could be a

richgirl-napper or killer for fucks sake and No 'stay with me, Iliana, I can't live without you'?" She sighs exaggeratedly. "I guess that's why they say never talk to a chef. They are loners. They don't know how to socialise. Boycott them."

She looks up at me innocently, "Their words not mine."

I chuckle, dark and low, tilting my head as I watch her with amused eyes. "That so?" My grip on her waist tightens just enough to remind her I'm still holding her. "Funny, because the way you've been melting in my arms all night tells me I'm doing just fine socially."

I lean in slightly, my voice dropping to something dangerously smooth. "And for the record, doll, chefs don't need to socialize." My hand tightening against her hip. "We make people come to us." I pause, letting the words settle before smirking. "In more ways than one."

She stills.

"Sweet dreams, doll," I murmur. "Don't go forgetting about me too soon."

She exhales sharply, her lashes fluttering for just a second before she pulls her wrist free and walks away without looking back.

But as they walk away, I catch the way Iliana's fingers subtly flex at her sides, like she's still feeling my touch, like she's trying to shake it off.

I roll my shoulders, exhaling through my nose.

Oh yeah, she won't forget me.

Not a fucking chance.

As Kia turns to leave, her gaze flickers, just for a split second—toward Adrian. He's across the room now, leaning against the bar, talking to some brunette in a sleek red dress. He's grinning, effortlessly charming, saying something that makes the woman laugh and touch his arm.

Kia's expression doesn't change, not really. But I catch the way her eyes linger for just a beat too long before she blinks and forces her attention back to Iliana.

Interesting.

Seems like I'm not the only one with unfinished business tonight.