Page 13 of Rafi

“Why, Mr Gatti, are you propositioning me?” I say, meeting his gaze head-on.

He regards me for a moment, his expression unreadable, then sets his glass down with a deliberate slowness. “You know I am,” he says. And I think it’s the first honest thing he’s said to me.

I don’t flinch, don’t look away. Instead, I lean in just enough to invade his space, my voice dropping to a deliberate whisper. “They talk about you like you’re some kind of legend.”

His smile widens, but there’s a glint of something sharp in his eyes. “They?Am I living up to the hype?”

“Not yet,” I say, letting my fingers brush against his forearm as I reach for his drink. I take a small sip without asking, the burn of whiskey sharp and immediate, then slide the glass back toward him.

He watches me, his gaze heavy, his silence louder than the music pulsing around us. He picks up the glass, turns it to wheremy lipstick has left its stain, and lifts the glass to his lips, never taking his eyes off me. My breath hitches; such a simple act, yet loaded with intensity as he lets my taste slide down his throat.

Finally, he leans back, his hand grazing my bare knee under the guise of shifting his position. It’s brief, could be considered accidental, but deliberate enough to send a current through me.

“Careful, Tayana,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet over steel. “Or you might get more than you bargained for.”

“I’m counting on it,” I say, crossing my legs slowly, letting my hem ride up just an inch higher. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I’m disappointed.”

The tension between us crackles like a live wire as we each wait for the other to blink first. He’s fishing, and so am I, but neither of us wants to show our hand too soon.

“Tell me,” he says finally, breaking the stalemate. “Why the sudden interest? You’ve been ignoring me all week.”

I tilt my head, my smile as sharp as a blade. “Maybe I got tired of playing hard to get. Or maybe,” I add, leaning in close enough that my lips almost brush his ear, “I wanted to see if you’re as legendary as they say you are.”

His laugh is low and dangerous, and he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Care to find out?”

The challenge hangs between us, thick and electric. I know what he’s doing—planting bait, testing my limits. And I let him think he’s winning, just for now.

Because if Rafi Gatti wants to play games, I’m more than ready to beat him at his own.

9

RAFI

The restroom door slams shut behind us, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence of the small room. My hand instinctively finds the lock, snapping it into place with a solid click. Before Tayana has a chance to step away, I press her against the door, caging her between my arms. The heat radiating off her pulls me in like a moth to a flame.

I may come back here night after night, fishing for information, but I’m not blind to her charm. Tayana Kamarov looks smoking hot tonight, and I’m not immune to the heat that surges between us, sending electric sparks through every last one of my impulses.

Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath catching as I lean in. The scent of her—something floral, subtle, and intoxicating—clouds my judgment. I should keep my head straight, but my self-control shatters the moment her body shifts against mine, her soft curves molding perfectly to my frame.

“Tayana Kamarov,” I murmur, my voice heavy with need. “You’re the stuff of wet dreams.”

Her lips part, and the softest moan escapes, barely audible, but it hits me like a freight train. She squirms slightly, her handspressing lightly against my chest as if she’s debating whether to push me away or pull me closer. Her eyes, though—those stormy, defiant gray eyes—tell me everything I need to know. She’s just as turned on as I am.

The hem of her dress rides up as she shifts, exposing more of her thighs. I draw back slightly, my eyes drinking her in, licking my upper lip as though savoring the sight of her trembling under my gaze. Every nerve in my body screams to take her, but I force myself to go slow. To savor. To enjoy. I want to take my time with her.

Her breathing hitches when I lower my hand, brushing my fingers over her thigh. Her muscles tense under my touch, but she doesn’t stop me. Instead, her eyes lock on mine, challenging me, daring me to go further.

My hand inches upward, slipping beneath the fabric of her dress, until my fingers skim the delicate lace of her underwear. My palm cups her heat, and I pause, gauging her reaction. Her lips part again, her head falling back against the door, and I swear I’ve never seen anything sexier.

Her undies are soaked, her arousal undeniable. I press my fingers against her, just enough to tease, and her hips buck involuntarily. The sound she makes—a soft whimper, caught between frustration and need—nearly undoes me.

“Still want to play hard to get?” I murmur, my voice barely more than a growl.

She doesn’t reply, but her body speaks for her, arching into my touch, her nails biting into my arms as she clings to me. My fingers slip past the lace, sliding along her slick folds, and her reaction is immediate—her thighs quivering, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

I watch her face the whole time, mesmerized by the way her expression shifts—defiance melting into surrender, controlgiving way to raw desire. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s all for me.

“Tell me, Tayana. Do you want me as much as I want you?” My lips brush the shell of her ear.

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