7. Camila

7

"You look gorgeous," Lucia declares, smiling as I leave my bathroom.

"Really?" I run a hand across the blue fabric of my dress. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

The soft glow of the evening sun filters through my bedroom curtains, casting a warm hue over the array of makeup and dresses scattered across my bed.

"Too much? Absolutely not," Maeve chimes in, her eyes appraising my dress. "Elio won't be able to take his eyes off you."

Emily approaches. "It's not just about looking beautiful, Camila. It's about feeling it. And you should."

Their words should buoy my spirits, but a weight presses on my chest. Renzo's unsettling insinuations have been bugging me. The thought of Elio and Renzo sharing girls is a forbidden, taboo image that refuses to fade from my mind.

Lucia tilts her head, studying me. "You're doubting this, aren't you?"

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "No, no, it's just... I've never been on a date with a guy like Elio before." Hell, I've never been on a date at all. My family is too overbearing. The fact that Renzo wants me to fuck him and his brother at the same time makes my stomach churn as I've not even had sex with one man, for fuck's sake.

"Well, you're one lucky girl." Emily grins. "Elio Barone is one of the hottest guys at this university. Who wouldn't want to be in your shoes?"

Lucky. Is it luck or a carefully laid trap? My friends see a date; I see a chessboard where every move could lead to a checkmate with two dangerous, gorgeous brothers.

"I mean, come on," Maeve continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "the guy is hot and totally into you."

Lucia laughs. "And let's not forget he's practically royalty around here."

Royalty with a dark crown. The memory of Renzo's smirk and taunting words repeat in my head. I'd entertained those thoughts for a fleeting moment—a fantasy that now filled me with shame.

Would Elio expect such things from me?

The reflection staring back at me from the mirror is a woman caught between desire and fear, curiosity and repulsion.

"You okay?" Emily's voice cut through my thoughts.

I meet her gaze in the mirror, pasting another forced smile onto my lips, pushing down the trepidation.

"Yeah," I lie smoothly. "Just nervous."

They surround me in a cocoon of laughter and light-hearted banter, unaware of the storm raging within me—a storm stirred by gray-eyed brothers with mysterious intentions.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

"Are you meeting him at the restaurant, or is he picking you up?" Emily asks.

"He's picking me up here," I reply, glancing at the clock on my nightstand. "Any moment now, actually. You should probably go."

But their eager faces tell me they've no intention of leaving. They want to be here when Elio arrives.

I sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. "Fine, you can stay. But please, don't make a big deal out of it."

They nod, barely containing their excitement. I can't blame them. In their eyes, this is a fairytale moment. The handsome prince arrives to sweep the princess off her feet.

But I know better. This is no fairytale. This is a dangerous game, one I'm not sure I know how to play.

A knock on the door jolts me from my thoughts. My heart races as I run my hands down my dress, taking one last look in the mirror.

I open the door, and there he stands—Elio Barone in a perfectly tailored suit, looking the charming and gorgeous man I know him to be. And those gray eyes drag down the length of me with predatory slowness, making my heart race.

The bouquet of white lilies in his hand catch my attention. They're beautiful, delicate, and pure. A stark contrast to the dark world we both inhabit.

"For you, princess." He holds out the flowers with a smile that makes my knees weak.

I take them, breathing in their sweet scent. "Thank you, they're lovely."

Behind me, I hear the barely contained squeals of my friends. I shoot them a look, silently pleading with them to behave.

Elio's eyes flick over my shoulder, taking in the audience. "I see you've got company."

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. "They were just leaving."

Lucia, Maeve, and Emily take the hint, gathering their things and heading for the door. They each hug me, whispering words of encouragement in my ear.

And then they're gone, leaving me alone with Elio. The man who has the power to either protect me or destroy me.

He offers me his arm. "Shall we?"

I take it, my hand trembling slightly as I allow him to lead me from the safety of my room and into the unknown.

The elevator doors close with a soft ding, sealing us inside. Elio stands close, his presence both comforting and unnerving. The scent of his cologne fills the small space, a heady mix of spice and something uniquely him.

I stare at the numbers counting down, my heart beating in time with each floor we pass. The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words and lingering questions.

When the doors finally open, Elio places a gentle hand on the small of my back, guiding me out into the lobby. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't help but lean into him.

Outside, a sleek black town car waits. Elio opens the door, and I slide in, the leather cool against my skin. He follows, settling in beside me, his thigh brushing against mine.

The proximity is too much, too intimate. I shift, trying to distance myself, but there's nowhere to go. I'm trapped, both by the confines of the car and the intensity of his gaze.

"You're tense," he observes, his voice low and smooth. "Is everything alright?"

I force a smile, my fingers twisting in my lap. "I'm fine. Just nervous, I guess."

He studies me, his gray eyes searching mine. "You're lying."

The accusation hangs in the air, and I feel my cheeks heat. How does Elio see through me so easily?

"It's your brother," I admit, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "He said some things that put me on edge."

Elio's jaw clenches, his eyes hardening. "What did he say?"

I hesitate, not wanting to cause trouble between them, but the look in his eyes tells me he won't let this go.

"He implied that you two share girls," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the engine's hum. "That you would expect me to be with both of you."

Elio's hand curls into a fist, his knuckles turning white. Anger radiates off him in waves, filling the small space.

"I'm going to kill him," he growls.

I place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles coiled beneath his suit jacket. "Please don't. It's not worth it."

He looks at me, his eyes softening. "You're worth it, princess. You deserve to be treated respectfully, not like some plaything to be passed around."

His words wash over me, soothing the jagged edges of my nerves. For a moment, I allow myself to believe him, to trust in the sincerity shining in his eyes.

But the moment is fleeting, shattered by the reality of who we are and our world. A world where trust is a luxury we can't afford.

The car slows to a stop, but Elio's words linger between us. I turn to him, my heart racing as I gather the courage to ask the question haunting me.

"Is it true?" my voice is barely a whisper. "What Renzo said about you sharing girls?"

Elio's eyes meet mine, a flicker of guilt passing through them. He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "We have, in the past. But that's not what this is. It's not what I want with you."

I search his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all I see is a vulnerability that catches me off guard.

"I like you," he continues, his voice soft. "I really like you. And I want to get to know you, the real you—not just the princess of the Aguilar cartel but Camila, the girl who loves to read in the library and has a laugh that lights up the room."

"I want to believe you," I whisper, my eyes locked on his. "But trust doesn't come easy to me."

He nods. "I'm willing to earn it if you'll let me."

And in that moment, I let myself believe in the possibility of something real beyond the games and the power plays of our world.

Elio steps out of the car, holding out his hand to me. I take it, allowing him to help me out onto the sidewalk. The restaurant looms before us, all gleaming glass and sleek lines. It's the kind of place I've only seen in movies. The kind of place where the wealthy and powerful come to play.

Inside, the ma?tre d' greets us and leads us to a private table in the back. The room has soft lighting and plush velvet, the perfect setting for a romantic dinner.

We order, the menu a dizzying array of French dishes I can barely pronounce. But Elio navigates it easily, selecting a bottle of wine that costs more than any drink should ever cost.

As we eat, the conversation flows, and the earlier tension melts away. Elio tells me stories of his childhood and growing up in the shadow of his family's legacy. I find myself opening up in return, sharing pieces of myself I've never shared with anyone.

As the evening wears on, I feel a warmth blooming in my chest, a feeling I've never quite experienced before. It's not love but infatuation. It feels dangerously like hope.

Elio pays for the check before guiding me out of the restaurant and into the waiting town car.

The door shuts with a soft thud, cocooning us in our own private world. The air between us feels charged, electric, with the promise of something more.

Elio's hand finds my thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. The touch ignites a fire in my belly. I turn to him, my breath catching as I meet his intense gaze.

And then his soft lips are on mine. I melt into the kiss, my body molding to his as his hand slides up my thigh, disappearing beneath the hem of my dress.

But as his fingers graze the lace of my panties, a jolt of panic shoots through me. I tense, pulling away from the kiss with a gasp.

Elio looks at me, confusion and concern etched onto his handsome face. "What's wrong?"

I feel the heat of shame creeping up my neck, coloring my cheeks. I avert my gaze, suddenly finding the car's floor incredibly interesting.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, tensing. "I just... I've never..."

The words stick in my throat, choking me. How do I tell him? How do I admit to this gorgeous, experienced man that I'm untouched, a virgin in every sense of the word?

But Elio, ever perceptive, seems to understand. He takes my hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles.

"Hey," he says softly, tilting my chin to meet his gaze. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

The gentleness of his touch is almost too much. I feel the sting of tears and the weight of my inexperience crushing down on me.

"I'm a virgin," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. "I've never been with anyone before."

His jaw clenches, and the look in his eyes is one of rage. I expect him to kick me out, hearing I'm an inexperienced virgin, but instead, he swallows hard and says, "Fuck."

"I can get my own way back if you want to?—"

He grabs my chin, making me look at him. "Don't be ashamed, princess. You being a virgin only makes me want you more." He kisses me softly and then moves to my ear, whispering, "I want to be the man to claim you. The first and only man to fuck you."

I gasp at his dirty words but they ignite a fire deep within. Instead of pulling back, I kiss him. His tongue delves into my mouth as if he's trying to consume me, and I let him. I've never been so turned on before.

I straddle Elio's lap in the back of the town car, our kisses growing more heated and desperate by the second. His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. That's when I feel it - the unmistakable, hard press of his arousal against my pussy. Even through the layers of fabric between us, there's no mistaking his impressive size.

A gasp escapes my lips at the intimate contact. It sends a shockwave of desire through me but also a jolt of panic. The reality of the situation crashes over me like a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames of passion.

I break the kiss, pulling back to look at Elio. His eyes are dark with lust, his lips swollen from our kisses. He's beautiful and tempting, but he's also practically a stranger.

"Wait," I whisper, my voice shaky. "I... I can't. Not yet."

Elio's brow furrows. "What's wrong, princess?" His voice is husky with desire.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "This is... It's too fast. I barely know you. I'm not ready to take this step, not yet."

He studies me for a long moment, his gray eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, he nods. "I understand. I don't want to rush you into anything you're uncomfortable with."

Relief floods through me at his acceptance. I feared he might pressure me or try to convince me to continue. But he doesn't. He respects my boundaries.

Carefully, I climb off his lap, settling back into the seat beside him. The air between us is still charged and heavy with unresolved tension.

"I meant what I said earlier. I want to get to know you, the real you. And if that means taking things slow, then that's what we'll do." Even though he sounds genuine, there's an odd glint in his eyes, as if he's not used to taking things slow.

I squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Elio. That means a lot to me."

He returns my smile. "You're worth the wait, princess. Never doubt that."

The warmth of Elio's hand in mine can't dispel the chill of doubt that creeps through me. His reassurances, his understanding—they should give me comfort. And they did, to an extent. But a gnawing question lingers in my mind, echoing with every beat of my heart: Why me?

I'm the princess of the Aguilar cartel, but that comes with more baggage than benefits, especially for someone like Elio, heir to the Barone mafia. We're from two different worlds that coexist in an uneasy truce, a truce that can unravel at the slightest provocation.

As we are driven back to campus in silence, the lights of passing cars dance across Elio's features, casting shadows. I study him, trying to decipher the enigma sitting so close yet feeling miles away.

He catches me looking and offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What's on your mind, princess?"

I hesitate, my lips parting, but no sound comes out. How can I voice my insecurities without sounding like I'm fishing for compliments or reassurances? How can I explain that despite his gentle touch and soothing words, I can't understand why someone as experienced and worldly as Elio has any interest in a sheltered girl like me?

"You're thinking too loud," he teases.

I manage a weak smile. "Just trying to figure out why you're here with me when you could have anyone."

Elio's expression turns serious. "Because ‘anyone' isn't you."

His answer should quell my doubts. Instead, it feels like an incomplete puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit, no matter how I turn it.

The driver parks on campus and Elio walks me to my dorm.

"Goodnight, Camila," he whispers softly as he leans down and brushes his lips against mine in a chaste kiss.

"Goodnight, Elio," I whisper back as he turns and walks away.

Closing the door behind me, I lean against it and let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. After the intensity of the evening, the room feels too quiet.

I want to believe him. A part of me did believe him when he said he wanted to know the real me. But doubt is a persistent shadow; it clings and darkens even the brightest intentions.

Why would Elio Barone—a man who's seen more of life's darkness than I ever will—be interested in someone like me? Is it truly just personal interest, or is there an angle he's playing? A strategy hidden behind soft smiles and tender words?

Those thoughts spin around as I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed. My feelings for Elio are as complicated as they are unexpected—like a haunting yet beautiful melody.

Lying there in the dark, I contemplate everything Elio represents—danger, mystery, and possibly something genuine amid all the chaos of our lives. But what if this is just an intricate game? What if I'm nothing more than a pawn?

Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but still, I lay there, tangled up in feelings for a man who might be as dangerous to my heart as he is to the rest of the world.