The Kiss
RONNY’S POV
The mirror stared back at me with a face I barely recognized. Jaw tight. Eyes shadowed, restless. The knot in my tie wasn’t just fabric—it was a noose tightening with every second I forced myself to breathe.
Black suit. Black shirt. Black tie. The uniform of control. Of discipline. Of a man who knew his boundaries and enforced them without exception. At least, that’s who I was supposed to be.
But my reflection was lying through its teeth.
Because no amount of pressed wool or polished shoes could erase what had happened last night. What she had done to me with those pictures.
Liliana.
Her name alone made my chest constrict, my thoughts spiraling into places I had no business going. I could still see every image as vividly as if I had tattooed them onto the inside of my eyelids. The lace. The satin. The way her lips curved like she knew exactly how far she was pushing me.
I dragged a hand over my jaw, rough against the stubble I hadn’t bothered to shave.
You should walk away.
Drop this case before it consumes you.
Cut her off before you can’t.
The words spun like a mantra in my head, but they were useless now. I knew it. The second those photos hit my phone, I was already gone. Even if I walked away tonight, there was no deleting them from my mind. No erasing the heat that burned under my skin every time I thought of her.
A buzz from my phone cut through the silence. My hand hesitated before I picked it up.
Her message flashed across the screen.
“You’ll pick me up at the penthouse. We need to make our relationship believable.”
I let out a low, guttural curse that vibrated in my chest. My teeth clenched around it until my jaw ached.
Believable.
As if this whole charade wasn’t already walking the line between pretense and something I couldn’t name. As if she hadn’t already twisted me into knots I couldn’t untangle.
Shoving the phone into my pocket, I grabbed my jacket, squared my shoulders, and walked out of the room. The air outside my door was cooler, sharper, but it didn’t help. Nothing could cool the fire coursing through me.
I made it halfway across the lobby before the voice I least wanted to hear sliced through the air.
“Ronny.”
My muscles went rigid before I even turned.
Diana.
She stood there with her arms folded, blocking my path like a predator guarding its prey. Blonde hair pulled tight, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed in that way she thought made her look imperious but only made my blood pressure spike.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My tone was sharp, clipped. I didn’t have the patience for her tonight. Not when I had my own demons to wrestle.
“Why haven’t you been picking up my calls?”
I rolled my eyes, exhaling hard through my nose. “Diana, leave me the fuck alone. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
I tried to sidestep her, but she shifted smoothly, cutting me off again. Her perfume was too sweet, too strong, clawing at my senses until I wanted to gag.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” she demanded, eyes flicking over the black suit. “A dinner? A date?”
My jaw locked, hands curling into fists at my sides.
“Since when do I answer to you?”
Her lips curved in a mocking smile, like she thought she still had claws in me. “So it is a date.”
The tension inside me snapped. My voice came out low, venomous. “Fuck off, Diana. I don’t owe you explanations. Not now. Not ever.”
For once, she faltered, her posture stiffening, but I didn’t wait for her comeback. I shoved past, my stride long and purposeful, my pulse hammering in my ears.
By the time I slid into the driver’s seat, my hands were shaking from the restraint it took not to grab her by the shoulders and make her understand I was done. Completely done. My knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as the engine roared to life.
She just wouldn’t let me breathe. Wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.
But Liliana…
Liliana was worse.
She had me trapped without even trying.
The drive to the penthouse was a blur. The city lights streamed past like smudges of gold and red, my grip on the wheel tight enough to ache. Every stoplight felt like a battle with myself. Every shadow against the glass reminded me I was heading straight into the fire, and still I pressed harder on the gas.
When I pulled into the underground lot and killed the engine, my heart was already pounding hard enough to rattle my ribs. The elevator ride was worse. Each floor ticked by too slowly, dragging my pulse higher, making the air feel thicker.
By the time the doors slid open on her floor, my chest was tight, my palms damp despite the chill of the air-conditioning.
I forced my face blank. Professional. Cold. Detached. The mask I’d spent years perfecting.
But the second her door opened, that mask cracked.
She stood there framed by the soft glow of the apartment behind her, and my breath stopped dead in my throat.
The black dress.
The black dress I chose.
It clung to her body like it had been stitched there, hugging every curve, dipping low enough to tease without mercy. Her hair—ginger and luminous—was styled into soft waves that brushed her shoulders, and for one insane heartbeat, all I could think about was winding my hands through it, yanking her head back, kissing the smirk off her lips.
Because she was smirking.
“Hey,” she said simply, like she hadn’t dismantled me piece by piece with her photos last night. Like she didn’t know she was playing with fire.
I blinked once, hard, dragging my thoughts back into line. The walls slammed back into place around me.
“Shall we?” My voice came out cool, detached. Like she hadn’t just stolen every coherent thought I had.
She tilted her head, a faint curve at her lips, but didn’t push. Just grabbed her clutch and stepped past me, her perfume trailing behind her like bait.
I followed, every muscle stiff, every step deliberate.
Opening the car door for her was automatic. A habit. But when she slid inside, legs crossing, the slit in her dress exposing pale, smooth skin, I had to swallow hard before I joined her on the driver’s side.
I slid in, fingers flexing against the wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Then I noticed her seat belt.
Or rather—the lack of it.
“Put it on,” I ordered automatically, my voice flat.
She arched a brow. “You’ll have to help me.”
My teeth clenched, but I leaned across anyway, fumbling for the belt. My shoulder brushed against hers, the scent of her skin hitting me like a sucker punch.
And then—
She turned her head.
Soft. Unexpected. Unavoidable.
Her lips brushed mine.
For a split second, the world stopped. My heart slammed so hard it hurt, my chest burning with the sudden rush of heat. Every nerve in my body lit up at once, raw, electric, alive.
I froze, staring at her from inches away, our mouths touching just enough to blur the line between accident and intent.
The line I’d promised myself I’d never cross.
The one I was already teetering over.
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