"What are we?"
I needed to know.
I hate not knowing, hate standing in something that has no name. Even if we had only met twice… I knew this wasn't normal. Whatever was between us—it wasn't casual.
The pull I felt toward him… it couldn't be just me.
Antonio looked calm, like always. But his eyes—there was something there. Something unsettled. Like he was holding back more than he wanted to.
"We're two people who enjoy each other's company," he said, his tone flat.
It hit harder than I expected.
So that was it?
I felt stupid for even asking.
After a brief pause, he added, "And you're mine."
For a second, I didn't even process it.
Then the hurt turned into anger.
"What did you just say?" I stepped back, staring at him. "Mine? What does that even mean? I'm not something you get to keep just because you want to."
I stood up again, this time fully ready to leave.
"I understand now," I said, my voice steady but cold. "But I'm not your property, Mr. Antonio. So I think this should be the last time we see each other."
He didn't move.
Just stared at me.
I turned to walk away—
"Don't go."
His voice was quiet. Almost… fragile.
I froze.
That was the first time I had ever heard him like that.
There was urgency in it. Something real.
Before I could react, he closed the distance between us, taking my hand and placing it against his chest.
"Do you hear this?" he said softly.
His heart was racing.
Fast. Uneven.
I looked up at him, confused.
"I don't know what answer you want from me," he continued, tightening his hold slightly. "But this…" He pressed my hand more firmly against his chest. "This doesn't happen. It hasn't… not since I lost everything."
There was something broken in his voice.
Something he wasn't letting me see fully.
"I don't want you to leave."
My breath caught.
"So… you love me?" I asked quietly.
He stepped back immediately, like the word itself burned him.
"I didn't say that."
"Then what is this?" I pushed.
He turned his face away, jaw tightening. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "I just… want you here. With me."
That scared me more than anything.
Because it was honest.
And incomplete.
I could tell he was hiding something. Something big. But I didn't push.
I had my own past.
My own things I wasn't ready to open again.
So instead, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him from behind.
"Fine," I said softly. "I won't leave."
He didn't move.
"But let me make one thing clear," I added. "No more watching me without my knowledge. No more control. I'm not yours."
There was a small pause.
Then I felt him relax.
"I already said that, didn't I?" he murmured.
I smiled slightly. "Good."
He turned and pulled me into his arms, holding me tighter this time.
For a moment, everything felt… quiet.
Normal.
I glanced at the table, the food now completely cold.
"I guess we should've just gone out," I said lightly.
He looked at me, something darker returning to his eyes now. "Who cares about the food, Velvet," he said softly. "Mine is still warm."
Before I could respond, he pulled me closer, his lips finding mine—slow at first, then deeper, like he was trying to say everything he couldn't put into words.
Then he lowered himself, slow enough to make me feel every second of it.
A breath caught in my throat, my fingers tightening instinctively in his hair as anticipation built, sharp and overwhelming.
He took his time.
Every nerve, every reaction, every inch of control slipping away.
A soft, unsteady breath left me before I could stop it, my head falling back as everything else blurred out. His touch wasn't careless. It was deliberate. Focused. Like he wasn't going to stop until I had nothing left to hold onto.
My thoughts scattered.
The questions, the anger, the conversation gone.
Replaced by heat.
By him.
Only him.
I forgot what I was saying. Forgot what I was feeling just minutes ago. Forgot everything except the way he was making me feel right now.
My hands moved without thinking, gripping tighter, pulling him closer like distance itself had become unbearable.
And he didn't stop he became reckless
If anything, he pushed further—like he wanted to see how far I could go before I completely gave in.
And I did.
Completely.
We lost ourselves in it. All I could do was moan for the pleasure I was feeling.
We were everywhere as if marking our territory,
The table.
The kitchen.
The sofa.
Like something between us had snapped and neither of us cared enough to fix it.
By the end, I couldn't tell where one moment ended and the next began.
And for a while…
I let myself forget.
The questions.
The past.
Everything.
It was just him.
Just us.
Later, when everything quieted down, he carried me to the bathroom, gently lowering me into the bathtub, warm water surrounding us.
I was too tired to think anymore.
Too drained to question anything.
He whispered something—I couldn't quite hear it.
And just like that, I drifted off.
But sleep didn't stay peaceful for long.
Because somehow…
I found myself going back.
Back to where it all began.