Page 31 of Veil of Obsession
He’s heading toward the balcony. To smoke, most likely.
I exhale, my chest tightening. Now is my chance.
Daniel slows our steps, looking at me with mild curiosity. “Would you like some champagne after this?”
I smile—soft, sweet, deceptive.
“That sounds lovely,” I lie just as the final notes of the waltz play.
But my body is already shifting, already angling toward the exit. Toward Lucio.
Before Daniel can say anything else, I step away from his grasp, offering him one last polite smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air.”
I don’t wait for his response. I glide off the dance floor, weaving through the guests, following the path Lucio just took. Because I know one thing for certain: wherever he goes, I follow.
The night air is crisp, biting against my skin the moment I step onto the balcony.
But it’s not the cold that consumes me. It’s him.
Lucio leans against the stone railing, a cigarette between his fingers, his broad shoulders relaxed, yet coiled with tension. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his tattoos peeking through, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the sinewy strength of his forearms and the sprawling ink that covers most of his arms.
He doesn’t look at me right away. He takes a slow drag, the orange ember flaring in the dim light, smoke curling lazily around his sharp, angular features.
Then he shifts his gaze to me. And holds it.
His stare is unforgiving, unyielding, the weight of it pressing against my skin like a brand. He exhales slowly, watching me through hooded eyes, the tension between us thick and dangerous.
“You smoke?” he asks, his voice rough, deep, edged with something unreadable.
I pause, briefly caught off-guard, before tilting my head slightly. “Not usually.”
He holds out his cigarette, two fingers pinching the filter, his gaze never breaking from mine. “Want one?”
I hesitate— not because I don’t want it, but because I don’t know what this means. Then I step forward, taking it from his fingers, the warmth of his touch lingering against the paper. My hand doesn’t shake, but my pulse pounds.
I bring it to my lips, inhaling carefully. The smoke burns immediately, hot and acrid, coating my throat like fire. I cough, nearly choking, my eyes stinging as I struggle for breath.
Lucio lets out a low, rough chuckle. “You’ve never smoked before, have you?”
I clear my throat, glaring at him, even as my voice comes out raw. “Never.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Figured.”
He takes the cigarette from me, bringing it back to his lips and inhaling deeply. Before I can react, he exhales a slow, deliberate stream of smoke right into my face.
I freeze, inhaling it instinctively. The scent of tobacco, whiskey, and him fills my lungs, clinging to my skin.
I don’t cough this time.
I don’t look away.
His lips curl slightly, amused. “What’s your name?”
I wet my lips, watching the way his gaze tracks the movement.
“Princess,” I answer, my voice smooth, effortless.
His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing as if he’s deciding whether to believe me.
