Chapter 10 THE MAN AT THE CLUB

ELENA

From his actions, it's clear he's hiding something or avoiding something.

But what exactly is it???

What exactly is Vincenzo hiding??

My chest tightens, but I start to turn towards the door.

But then…

“Baby doll,” he says.

Soft.

Too soft.

But I hear it.

Clear as thunder.

I stop walking.

The nickname wraps around my spine like a jolt. My breath catches.

No one else has ever called me that. Not once in my life.

Only him. Only that guy.

Slowly, I turn back around to face him.

He looks like he wants to swallow the word back. Like he didn't mean to say it. Like it slipped.

And maybe it did.

But the damage is already done.

I stare at him, eyes wide.

“You just called me…”

He closes his eyes briefly, as if he's in pain.

“I shouldn't have…”

“It was you..” I say, stepping toward him. “At the club. You kissed me. You knew it was me the whole time, didn't you??”

“Yes,” he reply. “How can I forget you?”

“Why did you act like you didn't know me?” I ask, still in disbelief.

The stepbrother I kissed at the club is actually Vincenzo and he's been giving me cold shoulders all these while.

My heart is racing. My skin is burning.

“Why didn't you say anything??” I ask.

“Because I didn't want this,” he says. “You weren't supposed to be here, and that night, it's a mistake.”

“Really??” I ask, even stepping closer. “Then why don't you look at me when you say that??”

He doesn't answer.

His silence is the answer.

The room swells with unspoken truths, unshed tension.

My lips part, but no words come out. There's too much between us now.

Lightning flashes outside illuminating his face…conflicted, raw, haunted.

“You called me baby doll,” I whisper again. “Only one person ever has.”

His eyes meet mine.

And for the first time since I moved into this house…

He doesn't look away.

His eyes don't leave mine.

We're both still.

Like any sudden movement would tip the scale into something we can't undo.

“You remember,” I whisper again. “You remember everything about that night, don't you??”

His throat bobs. He doesn't answer.

But he doesn't need to.

His silence says more than words.

“I remember too,” I say quietly, stepping closer. “The music. The way you leaned in like you'd been waiting to kiss me all night. You didn't even ask my name.”

“You didn't ask mine either,” he says, voice low, like gravel coated in regret.

We're only a few steps apart now.

The fire crackles beside us, casting flickering lights across his face. His jaw is tense, hands clenched at his sides, like he's fighting himself.

“I thought you're gone…” I whisper. “That it was just a moment. Something reckless and stupid and beautiful. I didn't expect to see you again, or maybe I did. Let alone live in the same house.”

“You weren't supposed to be here,” he says again, softer this time. Almost like it hurts to admit.

“Then why do you keep pushing me away??” I ask. “If it meant nothing, if it was just a mistake…why does it feel like you're more affected than I am.”

His lips part like he wants to respond…but nothing comes out.

So I keep going.

“You look at me like I'm a threat. But not in the way you pretend. You look at me like I know something you don't want anyone else to know.”

I take a careful step closer.

“I think you're scared, Vincenzo.”

That makes him laugh…a short, bitter sound.

“I'm not scared,” he says, shaking his head. “I'm only being cautious. That's the difference.”

“No,” I say. “There's fear in your eyes. Not of me hurting you. But of you wanting something you think you're not allowed to have.”

That pulls something sharp from him. He steps back almost like I've crossed a line, and runs a hand through his hair.

“You don't get it,” he mutters. “This house. My father. My brothers. You don't know the kind of world you walked into.”

“I don't care,” I say, voice trembling with a mix of anger and longing. “I care about honesty. About truth. About not pretending like that night didn't happen.”

He exhales sharply and looks away.

I move to the shelf, fingertips grazing the spine of the books, trying to keep my composure.

“If you're so determined to deny it, then fine. I'll leave. I won't talk about this again.”

I start walking toward the door.

But again…

He stops me.

“Elena”

My name, spoken so softly I feel it in my chest.

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. Ok don't turn around this time.

The silence stretches behind me like a string pulled taut.

Then quietly, almost broken.

“That night….it wasn't a mistake.”

The breath I was holding escapes me.

My hand drops from the knob.

I slowly turn back to him.

He hasn't moved. Still by the fireplace. Still half in shadow.

But the truth is there now…in his voice, in his eyes.

“I've tried to forget it,” he says. “Tried to forget you. But the second I saw you in this house. I knew it was over. I knew I couldn't pretend.”

I don't speak.

I can't.

Because if I do, I might do something stupid.

Like cross the room and kiss me again.

Like forget everything that complicates this.

So I just nod.

Once.

Then suddenly, he walks toward me.

Too fast that within seconds, he is standing in front of me.

Too close.

“Baby doll,” he murmurs darkly.

I feel the heat of his body before I see the change in his eyes.

My breath catches. “What??”

He steps even closer. I can smell the faint spice of his cologne. His voice lowers, the air between us charged.

“I badly want to pin you to the wall and kiss you so hard,” he says huskily.

He's close enough that his breath brushes my cheeks.

“Then do it,” I whisper.

And that is all he needs.

He pins me to the door and takes my lips in his, kissing me hard and passionately.