Page 30 of Maddest Temptation

“Your house, where else?”

“Can you drop me somewhere else?”

“I’m not your chauffeur, Francesca.”

Didn’t seem like that given it was the second time he was taking me home. “There’s a diner near my place just drop me there.”

Cassio stared at me like I had spoken to him in some other language. “No.”

I fisted my hands and begged for patience. Instead of fighting, which I knew he still wanted to, I offered him the truth. “I can’t go home right now.”

He stared at me, his green arctic eyes breaching through my walls and reading with clarity what was written all over me. I didn’t want to be alone. That was the truth. Not after what happened tonight.

Cassio didn’t utter a word as he drove through Chicago until we reached a massive skyscraper. He drove into the garage and parked the car in a designated spot. Unsure what to do and slightly conscious of myself, I opened the door and waited for him.

The elevator led us to the twenty-fifth floor, every second in there with him was excruciating. I kept wondering why I put myself in these situations. Tonight, I couldn’t even blame it on the drugs. Although I had drunk more than a normal person should, I was sober now. As sober as I could be. This was all my fault.

What was I doing here? I should have asked Cassio to drop me at my place and be done with the night. With him. Cassio had made it clear that he didn’t want to see me, and I didn’t want to see him. So why were we here?

Once the doors opened, he removed a key card and swiped through his door. He opened it for me, and I stepped inside, clutching my purse for dear life, as if it could shield me from him. I was so out of place, it hurt.

If Cassio had noticed, which I knew he did, he said nothing, he allowed me to explore, but I remained there, like a statue. “Come,” he said after a while.

He led me through the massive living room—which was at least thrice the size of my entire apartment. I followed him up a set of stairs and through a corridor. He stopped at the third door to the right and turned to face me.

His expression was hard to read, but I could see his shoulders were tense and his eyes were colder than they naturally were. He was not pleased.

“You can stay here tonight. There are towels in the bathroom if you need any.” He spoke through clenched teeth. If it bothered him so much, why was he doing this? “Don’t ever mention this, do you understand?”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Good because this is the last time I will save you, Francesca.” With that he turned and walked away. I watched until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

My room was clean and spacious, my bed alone was large enough to fit a family. The room was decorated in tons of white and gray, making it look cold and impersonal. Despite that, it was beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered me a view of Lake Michigan.

After wiping away my make-up and tying my hair into a bun, I stood by the window, watching the city outside. Once again, it struck me that I was in Cassio Moretti’s apartment.

Why had he brought me here? Why had I accepted it? I didn’t want to be alone right now, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be with him. In fact, Cassio was the last person I should be with.

It was for one night, and one night only. Now that I was back in Chicago and my best friend was dating his brother, I was bound to see him. It was best we dealt with this like adults.

There was no point in pretending we liked each other. One of us would have to cave and be the adult here, and it looked like it would have to be me. Only because I didn’t want to be miserable every time we saw each other.

I left the room, heading toward his. I was about to knock on the door when courage failed me. Then I lifted my hand and knocked once, twice, and was about to do so a third time when the door opened.

My knees wobbled, and my eyes had a hard time focusing on his face. Cassio stood before me half-naked, his chest on display. I stared and… stared. It was hard. He was hard, his chest was. I mean his packs… he had six of them and a V muscle that slipped into his pants. His skin was tanned… golden like he had spent all of his summer in Capri, sunbathing.

I was rambling in my head, but he was so… juicy. I had seen Paolo shirtless countless times, but he had been pale and pouchy. The only other comparisons had been the men from Hollywood movies, and Cassio could easily be one of them.

And that tattoo. Right on his left pectoral, a small writing in cursive which I couldn’t read given the dimness of the light. Was it hot in here? I was certainly sweating.

“You’re drooling, Principessa.”

“No, I’m not.” I finally managed to look into his eyes and saw a flicker of heat.

“You are.” He crossed his arms and flexed his muscles. I narrowed my eyes realizing he was doing it on purpose.

“I. Am. Not.”

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