Chapter 2: The Game of Glances
The morning sun spilled gold across the balcony of Auri's suite. She stretched, letting the sheer curtains brush against her skin, savoring the rare luxury of uninterrupted freedom. No alarms, no deadlines, no one telling her what to do. Just her, the ocean, and two weeks dedicated entirely to being untamed.
Yet, as she stepped onto the balcony, coffee in hand, she froze.
Dante Moretti.
He was leaning against the railing of the suite next door, sunglasses perfectly angled, cup of espresso in hand, exuding effortless dominance and… magnetism. Her pulse skipped.
Why is he everywhere? she muttered under her breath. Her first instinct was to retreat, hide behind her sunhat, and pretend she hadn't noticed him. But something kept her rooted to the spot, eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
"You're staring," a low, amused voice said behind her.
Auri spun, heart pounding—and there he was, closer than she expected. He didn't look angry, just… amused. Dangerous, teasing amusement.
"I'm… not," she stammered, though her gaze betrayed her.
"Sure," he said, eyebrow raised. "Not staring at me. Totally believable."
She huffed a laugh, defensive yet thrilled. "And you're… everywhere. Do you follow people on vacation now?"
"Only the interesting ones," he replied smoothly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
She bit her lip. Interesting? Me? She told herself firmly: He's just a man. A handsome, infuriatingly confident man. Nothing more.
Breakfast at the resort felt like a battlefield of restraint.
Auri chose a table near the far corner, determined to appear absorbed in her omelet. But of course, Dante had chosen a corner within her line of sight, leaning back with casual perfection, reading a tablet. The distance didn't matter. She could feel him—always observing, always analyzing.
Every so often, her eyes flicked toward him, and every time, his gaze met hers for the barest fraction of a second before looking elsewhere.
"Why does he have to make it so difficult?" she whispered to herself, smiling despite herself.
As she reached for orange juice, a shadow fell across her table. Dante's presence was overwhelming, even without a single word.
"You really like breakfast, don't you?" he asked, casual, but with that underlying sharpness that made her pulse quicken.
"I enjoy food," she replied, chin tilted, resisting the shiver that his proximity sent down her spine.
He studied her, and Auri felt exposed under his gaze. "Food… and maybe more?"
She laughed lightly, a soft, teasing sound she couldn't help. "I don't know what you mean," she said, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.
Poolside in the afternoon became another stage for their silent war.
Auri stretched on a chaise lounge, pretending to read a book, while Dante appeared minutes later, sunglasses on, towel draped over his broad shoulders. She didn't look up—until she felt the pressure of his presence beside her.
"You're impossible to ignore," he murmured, just close enough for her to feel the warmth of his voice against her skin.
"Then maybe you should look elsewhere," she replied, biting the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.
He tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "I prefer… facing the challenge."
Auri rolled her eyes, but the flutter in her stomach betrayed her. His words were dangerous, magnetic, and she couldn't decide whether to fight it or surrender to the tension crackling between them.
A walk along the private beach in the late afternoon was a battle of restraint.
Neither spoke for a while, the rhythmic sound of waves lapping at their feet filling the space. Then Dante broke the silence, low and teasing:
"You know, for someone untamed, you're awfully predictable."
Auri raised an eyebrow. "Predictable? Me? That's… offensive."
"Not offensive," he said, smirking. "Accurate. You run from me. Yet somehow, here you are, again."
She tried to laugh it off. "Maybe I just enjoy being… mildly annoyed."
"Or maybe you enjoy the chase," he countered, his gaze locking on hers.
Her heart stuttered. The chase? He has no idea…
By sunset, the tension had become almost unbearable. The sky was ablaze with hues of orange and pink, and neither had moved toward the other physically, yet the electricity in the air made each glance, each smile, feel intimate.
Auri stopped walking, pretending to admire the horizon. She could feel him behind her, close enough that the warmth of his body radiated onto her back.
"You're enjoying this," he said softly, almost a whisper, "even if you won't admit it."
She squared her shoulders, pretending nonchalance. "I… I don't know what you mean."
"You do," he said, his voice low, controlled, teasing. "The way you keep looking back at me, the way your lips twitch when you think I'm not watching. Don't pretend."
Auri's breath hitched. She was caught. And yet, she refused to give him the satisfaction of a surrender.
"I'm… practicing restraint," she murmured.
"Ah," he said, "so am I."
And for a long moment, they just stood there, two untamed forces circling one another, neither willing to give in, yet both magnetically drawn together.
Dinner was silently arranged without a word.
When Auri arrived at the resort's elegant dining terrace, she found Dante already there, seated at a table for two, perfectly composed. He didn't rise to greet her, didn't smile openly just looked up with that familiar, intense scrutiny.
"Right on time," he said simply.
"I prefer punctuality," she replied, taking the chair opposite him, a hint of challenge in her tone.
By the time dessert arrived, the air between them was thick with unspoken desire. Their hands brushed lightly when reaching for the same spoon. Auri pulled back sharply, trying to maintain composure.
"You're… careful," Dante observed, a glint in his eyes.
"Experience," she replied, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.
He leaned back slightly, smirk curling, letting her chase him in the game of teasing restraint. "I like that," he said softly. "I like that a lot."
Auri could feel her heart racing, her mind spinning. He was infuriating, maddening, impossible—and yet, every nerve in her body wanted him closer.
The night ended with no kiss, no confession, only a charged goodbye and a lingering promise in their gazes.
As Auri walked back to her suite, the salty breeze wrapping around her, she realized something dangerous: she wanted more.
And she knew, without a doubt, that Dante Moretti would not make it easy.
But maybe… she didn't want easy.