Chapter 7 #2
That realization sent a ripple of awe down her spine.
Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the scars or his past that made her react like this.
The frustrating, bone-deep awareness had been there from the moment he’d walked into the conference room this morning, his presence filling the room, commanding attention in a way that left her struggling to keep her thoughts in order.
The doors slid open, and just as she drew breath to respond, movement caught her eye. Several men appeared, their broad frames filling the hallway. She reacted instinctively, stepping to the side.
Straight into Dimitri.
Hard muscle met her softer frame as his arms came up, steadying her before she could fully register what had happened. The heat of his touch burned through her sleeves, his grip firm but unexpectedly gentle.
She looked up into those dark, mysterious eyes, and everything else faded away. The words she’d meant to say dissolved on her tongue. The world outside the elevator, the bodyguards, the weight of the day—it all vanished. All that remained was him.
Her eyes flicked down to his mouth. Would his kisses be hard and demanding? Yes. Absolutely yes. Would that dark beard tickle her skin? Her breath hitched, an unsteady tremor rolling through her, and for a brief, dangerous moment, she wanted to know exactly how he tasted.
His grip tightened ever so slightly.
“Bodyguards,” he explained, his voice huskier than before.
The word didn’t belong in this moment. Then reality crashed back into place. She took in the four men standing nearby, watching Dimitri, waiting patiently.
“Oh, right,” she gasped, feeling like an idiot. She had completely forgotten they weren’t alone.
She pulled back, distancing herself as much as she could in the tight space. The men weren’t just strangers—they were his bodyguards. Another stark reminder of who he was and why she needed to keep her thoughts firmly in check.
She smoothed her skirt with shaking hands, trying to compose herself. “Right. Bodyguards.”
“They are a necessary evil,” he explained, and before she could process it, he touched the small of her back, guiding her forward.
Heat spread through her, a different kind of awareness rippling through her veins.
“I’m sure that…” she started, but then hesitated. She flushed, suddenly aware of how her words might sound. “I didn’t mean to imply that people want to harm you. I just—well, I assume most people are jealous of the success you’ve made of your life.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hand lingered against her lower back, a solid, warm presence.
And as they stepped out into the night, the city lights casting long shadows around them, Giselle realized something unexpected.
Dimitri De Luca wasn’t just a powerful man.
He was dangerous. And yet, she wasn’t afraid.
She was drawn to him.
Dimitri’s soft chuckle was like a warm, teasing caress against her skin, but Giselle forced herself to stay focused as she walked beside him. The night air was crisp, a welcome contrast to the heat still lingering in her cheeks.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that for tonight,” he agreed softly.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Instead of wondering, she looked both ways before stepping off the curb, her practical nature overriding the overwhelming energy of his presence.
The street was quiet. The commuters were long gone, already home with their families, leaving the city bathed in an eerie calm. Even the restaurant they entered—a place she had heard about from her coworkers—wasn’t overly crowded.
The space was elegantly decorated, draped in muted gold and deep, rich browns.
Soft lighting illuminated the polished wood floors, the glow from chandeliers reflecting off crystal wine glasses and perfectly pressed linens.
At the far end of the room, a grand piano sat near the bar, its glossy surface catching the light as a musician played something low and sophisticated, the kind of melody that made people feel expensive just by listening to it.
Everything about this place screamed refinement, exclusivity.
And it made her want to crawl out of her skin.
She felt completely out of place.
It had been a long time since she’d had the extra funds to visit a restaurant, but from when she had been last, it had been a “fast-casual” restaurants, the kind where you stood in line to order and took a number to your table.
She had never stepped foot in a place like this, where waiters in black vests moved with quiet efficiency, balancing trays with delicate, cleverly plated meals that looked more like artwork than food.
She swallowed hard, her palms going damp as she took her seat.
The moment she opened the menu, her stomach twisted. The prices were staggering. A single entrée cost more than a week’s worth of groceries. The pasta alone was outrageously priced! She stared at the numbers, her heart pounding uncomfortably against her ribs.
Carefully, she set the menu down and reached for her purse.
This was a mistake. She didn’t belong here, sitting across from Dimitri De Luca in a place where people murmured over candlelit tables and swirled their wine like they understood what tannins were.
"Sir, I really should leave," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need—"
"Sit, Giselle."
His soft command left no room for argument.
Her fingers loosened from her purse immediately, her body obeying before her brain even caught up.
And even more embarrassing, a special kind of heat surged through her, settling low in her stomach, and she clenched her thighs together under the table, mortified by the strength of her reaction to his command.
What was wrong with her?
The way he spoke to her, the way his voice wrapped around her name, sent a pulse through her.
It was unsettling.
And worse, it was a little intoxicating.