Page 51 of Beautiful Villain
“It doesn’t,” he agreed quietly.
The silence stretched, thick and loaded, until it felt like the air itself was holding its breath.Then his hand slid to my waist, grounding, sure.
“I don’t want to overthink this,” he said, his voice lower now.“I just want you.Right here.Like this.”
My pulse jumped.I shifted closer without thinking, drawn to the heat of him, the weight of his attention.His gaze darkened instantly, the softness giving way to something familiar and dangerous.
“Then stop thinking,” I whispered.
We’d been togetherthree times last night, and the reality of it still felt unreal.Everything had happened so fast—too fast to fully understand—but I didn’t want to pull it apart yet.I didn’t want to look too closely, in case it turned into something heavier than I was ready to face.
For now, it was enough to lie there and feel the quiet between us.Enough to let the moment be what it was, without asking it to mean more.
I stared at the ceiling, listening to his breathing beside me, trying to make sense of how my body still felt so full.Not just sore or warm, but… seen.Like something inside me had been touched that no one had ever bothered to reach before.
I’d never thought of myself as the girl men lost their heads over.I’d spent most of my life shrinking—learning how to take up less space, how to be quieter, easier, prettier in ways that didn’t draw too much attention.Pretty, but not too pretty.Confident, but not enough to invite disappointment.
And then there was Gianni.
The way he’d wanted me last night—like restraint was a fight he kept losing, like my body was something he couldn’t get enough of—still made my chest feel tight.It didn’t match the story I’d always told myself.The one where I was second choice.Temporary.Easy to leave.
I didn’t know what to do with the way he’d touched me like I was something rare.
Part of me waited for the other shoe to drop.For morning light to strip the moment bare and leave me feeling foolish for believing it meant anything.I’d learned not to trust too easily.Wanting something didn’t make it safe.
But another part of me—quieter, braver—felt light.Happy in a way I wasn’t used to.Desired.Wanted without question or apology.
I turned my head slightly and watched him sleep, the hard lines of him softened in rest.Whatever this was, it had already cracked something open in me.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to close it again.
21
Archie
I’m not a stupid man.
People like to assume brutality equals stupidity.It makes them feel safer.But there are lines even I don’t cross—not because I lack the appetite, but because I understand consequence.
Gianni Cavalho having Mikayla doesn’t give me the right to kill him.Tempting as that thought is.
And the fact that he and I have been circling each other over that Provence property for the better part of eighteen months—sniffing out weak points, blocking permits, buying loyalty in quiet increments—that still doesn’t earn me a free pass to put a bullet in his skull.
That kind of move doesn’t end a rivalry.It detonates an empire.
The Cavalhos don’t absorb losses quietly.They answer them.Loudly.Permanently.And I may enjoy chaos, but I’m not suicidal.
So yes—I know better.
Which makes what I did next particularly irritating.
Shooting up his house wasn’t smart.
It wasn’t strategic, and it definitely wasn’t necessary.It was… a little indulgent.
All I wanted was his attention.An invitation to a sit-down where men spoke plainly and sorted out their shit… the old school way.I wanted him across a table from me, not buried under one.
I could have done it differently.I could have boxed up the hand, wrapped it neatly, and sent it through a courier like a civilized criminal.DHL.FedEx.Something reliable with tracking.
