Kim stared at her reflection one last time before heading down.
The black satin dress Eddy had given her clung to her body like a second skin. It was dangerously short, low in the back, and slit high at the thigh.
She didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.
She looked… like temptation.
She made her way down the marble stairs, her bare feet barely making a sound. The villa was silent—too silent.
And then she saw him.
Eddy stood by the dining table, pouring wine into two glasses. His hair slightly messy, his sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking along his veins. The soft golden light from the chandelier above bathed him in shadow and fire.
He turned to her, lips curling slowly.
But she didn't smile back.
Her eyes widened. "You're bleeding."
He looked down, surprised—as if he'd forgotten.
His white T-shirt was stained red near the ribs, blood soaking through the fabric. It wasn't pouring, but it wasn't a paper cut either.
"Eddy…"
"It's handled," he said casually, picking up a cloth napkin and dabbing the spot.
Her stomach twisted. "What the hell happened?"
"Nothing that concerns a baby doll like you," he murmured, walking toward her.
He stopped a few steps away and handed her a glass of wine.
"You killed him," she whispered, the words trembling on her tongue.
He smiled like the devil. "No. I spared you. Big difference."
Kim took the glass, her hand slightly shaking. The tension in the air was thick—but so was the heat.
"Now," Eddy said, nodding toward the candlelit table, "let's eat before the food gets cold… or I get too distracted."
They sat across from each other. Silver covers were lifted from steaming dishes—Italian classics with a gourmet twist. But Kim barely touched her food.
Eddy leaned back, watching her with hungry eyes.
"I want to feed you," he said.
"What?"
He reached for a fork, speared a soft piece of grilled scallop, and held it out to her across the table.
Her lips parted, but she hesitated.
"Still scared?" he teased.
She leaned forward slowly, letting her lips wrap around the fork. His eyes darkened as he watched her chew.
"You like teasing me," she murmured after swallowing.
"I like watching you surrender," he replied, voice deep and steady. "It's beautiful."
Kim smirked. "I don't surrender easily."
"Oh, I don't mind a challenge, baby doll." He licked his lips. "But just remember... you're playing on my territory now."
A slow song began playing from the corner speakers. Old Italian jazz. Smooth. Intoxicating.
Eddy stood and extended a hand.
"Dance with me."
"In the middle of a crime scene?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Dinner's done. Blood's dry. You're dressed to be touched."
She took his hand.
He pulled her into his arms, their bodies fitting like pieces meant to lock. One hand on her waist, the other holding her fingers.
They swayed, slow and close. His breath brushed her ear.
"You're dangerous in that dress."
"You picked it," she whispered, boldly pressing her chest to his.
"I knew you'd make it sinful."
She laughed—but it caught in her throat as his hand slid lower, gripping the curve of her backside.
"Still scared of me?" he whispered.
"I think I'm scared of myself."
He dipped her low, his mouth hovering over hers.
The candlelight flickered on their faces.
Lips barely touching.
"I want you to want me," he whispered.
"I already do," she breathed.
But just before their lips met—he froze.
A flicker of movement in the shadows outside the window.
His eyes narrowed. His voice changed.
"Get back to your room. Now."
Kim blinked. "What—"
"Now, Kim."
He walked to the window, slipped a gun from the back of his jeans, and disappeared into the dark.
Kim
stood frozen in the flickering candlelight, heart pounding.
The dance was over. But the night was just beginning.