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Elio’s jaw clenches almost imperceptibly. “You don’t chat with anyone without a reason,” he declares.
Renzo’s attention shifts to me, and I feel like prey caught in a predator’s sights, pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. “And who is this?” he asks, his voice dripping with curiosity and something else, something darker and more primal.
“This is Camila,” Elio introduces me with a protective edge to his tone. “Camila, meet Renzo, my brother.”
“Enchanted.” Renzo reaches for my hand, casually yet calculatedly brushing his fingers against my skin. His touch sends an unexpected shiver down my spine, a jolt of electricity that makes me want to pull away and lean in all at once.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, though my voice sounds far away to my ears, as if I’m speaking from underwater.
Elio watches us, his jaw set in a hard line, and I can’t help but notice how his hands clench into fists on the table, the tendons straining against his skin.
Renzo leans against a nearby shelf, never breaking eye contact with me, his gaze searing into my soul. “I hope my brother is keeping you entertained,” he says, his tone light but his eyes heavy with meaning.
“Actually,” I say, trying to ignore the tension radiating from Elio, the almost palpable sense of unease that hangs between the brothers, “he was just sharing how valuable peace and quiet can be.”
Renzo laughs—a sound that should be warm but instead feels cold, a harsh bark that echoes in the stillness of the library. “Oh, Elio has always been one for solitude,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But me? I prefer more lively interactions, more stimulating company.”
There’s an edge to his words that makes me wary, a sharpness that belies the easy charm of his smile. Yet something about him draws me in—like the allure of something dangerous and forbidden, a temptation that’s hard to resist.
Elio clears his throat sharply, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife. “Renzo was just leaving,” he says, his voice brooking no argument.
But Renzo doesn’t move; he just smiles at me again—a smile that promises trouble and tempts me all at once, making my heart race and my palms sweat.
“Do you want me to leave?” Renzo’s question hangs in the air, charged and waiting.
I feel Elio’s gaze heavy on me, expectant. Still, I shrug, unwilling to take sides in what seems to be a sibling squabble, a power play that I don’t fully understand. “It’s not up to me,” I say, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I don’t mind if you stay.”
The air thickens with tension as Renzo takes that as his cue, pulling out a chair with a scrape against the library floor. He sits, folding his arms on the table, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, as if he’s won some unspoken battle.
Elio’s glare could bore holes through steel. He is watching his brother settle into the chair, his eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a grim line. His body language screams irritation; every line of him is drawn taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. It’s clear that Renzo knows exactly how to get under his skin and push his buttons, and he relishes it and thrives on the chaos he creates.
I watch them both, these two sides of a coin—Elio with his brooding intensity and Renzo with his dangerous charm, both beautiful and terrible in their own ways. Brotherly rivalry or something deeper, it’s obvious their relationship is complicated, a tangled web of history and resentment that I can only begin to guess at.
Renzo leans back in his chair, looking like he belongs here amidst the stacks of books and the hush of whispered learning like he’s the king of this quiet domain. He flicks an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve and meets my gaze with an expression that dares me. What exactly he’s daring me to do, I couldn’t tell you.
“I’m going to head out,” I say, gathering my things and rising from my seat.
Renzo shakes his head and places a hand on mine before I can move, his touch searing my skin like a brand. “No, bookworm. Don’t leave. I want to get to know you better and unravel the mystery of Camila.”
Elio’s growl ripples through the tense air, his patience snapping. He rises, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, an abrasive sound that echoes my internal turmoil. “Get to know my brother,” he says with a clipped tone, his dark eyes flashing before he adds, “I’ve got class.”
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving me in the wake of his abrupt departure.
Renzo watches him leave and then turns back to me, his gaze hungry and knowing, a wolf eyeing its prey. Once my sanctuary, the library now feels too small, intimate, and charged with a tension that I can’t quite name. His presence is overwhelming—darkly magnetic and undeniably dangerous, a force of nature threatening to sweep me away.
“So,” Renzo begins, leaning in closer than Elio ever dared, his breath ghosting across my skin. “Now that we’re alone...”
His voice trails off suggestively. He’s far more forward than Elio; there’s no subtlety in his approach, no dance of flirtation—it’s a direct challenge, a gauntlet thrown down at my feet.
“Now that we’re alone,” I repeat, wondering what he’s getting at.
I shift in my seat, suddenly conscious of the space—or lack thereof—between Renzo and me. His dark eyes hold a glint of mischief that says he’s used to getting what he wants and that he’s never been denied. I can’t believe Elio never mentioned he had a brother, especially one like this—unhinged and yet somehow captivating, a live wire that threatens to electrocute anyone who gets too close.
Renzo’s gaze trails down my face, lingering on my lips before snapping back to meet my eyes, a blatant appraisal that makes my cheeks flush and my heart stutter. “Did Elio tell you about me?”
I shake my head, trying to maintain a semblance of composure under his intense scrutiny. “No, he didn’t.”
Renzo’s smirk widens into a Cheshire cat grin that’s both unsettling and alluring. “That’s a shame. I hate being kept a secret and hidden away like some dirty little secret.”
