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“I’m not sure ‘secret’ is the right word,” I say, tilting my head slightly as I try to match his confidence to meet his boldness. “I hardly know your brother.”
His finger grazes my hand on the table—a touch so light it might as well be imagination, a whisper of sensation that sends shivers down my spine. But it isn’t; it’s deliberate and charged with intention, a calculated move in a game I’m not sure I know the rules.
“No, luckily. Elio’s a bore. You’re better off getting to know me, bookworm.”
My cheeks warm at his words, and I can’t help but smile.
Renzo notices the change in my expression and leans back with a satisfied nod. “There it is—a smile, a real smile. It suits you.”
“It’s just a smile,” I say dismissively, trying to downplay his effect on me, the way he makes me feel off-balance and out of my depth.
“But it’s your smile,” he counters smoothly, his voice like honey. “Unique to you and all the more intriguing for it.”
The audacity of his flirting borders on arrogance. Renzo Barone is nothing if not captivating.
“I don’t think you know what ‘intriguing’ means,” I tease, trying to deflect the intensity of our exchange with humor.
“Oh, but I do.” His response is quick, brooking no argument. “It means something that draws you in, makes you want to discover more—even if you know you should probably keep your distance, even if you know it might be dangerous.”
His words hang between us like an invitation or perhaps a challenge—one that promises complexity and danger in equal measure, a heady cocktail that’s hard to refuse.
“You’re very different from your brother,” I muse, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.
He smirks, a self-satisfied expression that says he knows exactly how much more daring and unpredictable he is. “I know, I’m much more charming.”
“I’d say forward,” I correct him.
He chuckles. “Well, when I see something—or someone—I like, I don’t believe in wasting time.”
There’s an arrogance to his words that should send me running, but instead, it anchors me to my seat.
His fingers drum on the tabletop as he studies me. “You’re different from the other girls here,” he observes. “You’ve got depths they can’t fathom.”
The compliment catches me off guard—no one has ever described me like that.
“You think you can see my depths after one conversation?” I challenge.
Renzo leans back with a sly smile. “I’d like to explore them further.” His voice dips lower, a whisper meant for only me to hear. “With your permission, of course.”
The silence stretches between us until it’s almost tangible.
And then the moment shatters as someone drops a stack of books nearby—a reminder that we’re not alone in this place. But Renzo doesn’t flinch; his focus remains solely on me.
“Permission for what exactly?” My voice is calm, but there’s a tDanter in it—a tDanter caused by this man who looks at me like he can see right through me.
“So many dirty, filthy things.”
I sit back. “Right, I’m not that kind of girl.” I stand, collecting my books. “And I’m late.”
His jaw clenches, and I notice a dark flash in his eyes, which scares me. “Run along, bookworm. I’ll win you over in the end.”
I can’t help but glance back at him, his smirk etched into my mind. Renzo Barone—the dark, dangerous, and captivating Renzo Barone. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck; my body is still warm from his light touch, and his words are a poisonous yet addictive drug.
I shake my head, trying to clear the haze from my thoughts. This isn’t good. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about someone like him.
I rush out of the library, the cool night air starkly contrasting my heated conversation with Renzo. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all tangled up like a chaotic dance of colors.
Renzo and Elio are different but equally alluring, which is a messed-up thought. Something tells me these brothers aren’t going to leave me alone now. They see me as a challenge. Which one can win me over? I should stay far away from them, but that’s the last thing I want.
