The Maldives heat was softer than Rose expected — not harsh, but heavy, like warm silk pressed to her skin. The sea stretched endlessly in every direction, turquoise and glittering. Somewhere far behind her, the villa's white curtains fluttered in the breeze.
But it was the sound of footsteps she felt first. Not loud. Barely there. Still, her body reacted before her mind did — heart beating a little faster, lips parting.
Silvio.
She stood at the edge of the infinity pool, the water hugging her thighs, wearing the black bikini she knew would drive him mad — minimal straps, bold lines, a whisper of defiance in how it clung to her curves. She didn't look at him. She simply reached up, gathering her hair into a twist, exposing her throat, her shoulders, her back.
Let him burn.
"I thought you had business to attend," she murmured as he stepped closer.
"I did," his voice was low, gravel and velvet. "I handled it in record time."
"So efficient. Must be exhausting, being you."
He didn't reply. Just walked until he was standing right behind her at the pool's edge. Close enough for her to feel his breath, but not touching. She turned slowly to face him, gaze deliberately steady. His suit jacket was gone, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled, but even slightly undone, he looked like a man who owned kingdoms.
"I should be angry," he said. "You're playing with fire."
"And you're pretending not to like it."
A flicker of something darker passed through his eyes. Hunger. Restraint. His control was a fortress, but she was starting to see where the cracks lived.
"Get in," she said softly, stepping backward into the deeper water. The surface rippled around her, silver in the moonlight. "Unless you're afraid."
His jaw flexed. A moment passed. Then, he removed his watch, rolled it onto the table, and began unbuttoning his shirt — slowly, each flick of his fingers deliberate, precise. Rose bit her lip. Her heart was racing now. Not just from attraction — but from the way he looked at her. Like she was something already his.
He slipped into the pool in a fluid motion, the water lapping around them, catching the light in dancing fragments. They stood there, facing each other, inches apart. Tension pulsed between them like a third heart.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you since the moment I met you," Silvio said, voice low, almost dangerous in its softness. "And you know that, don't you?"
Her throat tightened.
"You knew exactly what this bikini would do to me."
"You needed a distraction," she whispered.
He moved closer, slowly, his hand gliding under the water to rest on her waist. "You are the distraction."
She reached up, trailing her fingers across his chest. "Then stop talking."
Their lips collided with heat and desperation, a kiss that wasn't gentle — it was all teeth and hunger and weeks of tension finally crashing through the gates. He pushed her back against the smooth edge of the pool, his body pressing into hers, water splashing softly around them.
Every touch was possession. Every breath they took belonged to the other.
She wrapped her legs around him instinctively, gasping when his hand traveled lower under the water, teasing her with maddening patience. Her nails raked down his back as his mouth found her neck, biting just hard enough to leave marks.
"Tell me to stop," he growled against her skin.
"Don't you dare," she gasped.
They moved together in the water, slow at first — deliberate — but it didn't take long before it turned desperate, rough, the pool echoing with their breathless sounds. The tension between them cracked wide open. She felt like she was unraveling and igniting at once, like there was no surface anymore, only depth.
Only him.
When it was over, they stayed like that — her legs still wrapped around him, his forehead resting against hers, their breathing heavy and uneven. The stars spun above them. The water was warm, but her skin burned where he touched her.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispered, eyes closed.
Silence. But not an empty one.
His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing softly over her lips. "Then fall, La Fiora. But understand this…"
He kissed her again — slower, deeper — and when he pulled back, his eyes were darker than ever.
"…there's no climbing back up."