Don't call me that
Stephano
Curse. You. Isabella.
I could hear her approaching, her footsteps trailing down the hallway, growing louder, closer. It was only a matter of time before she reached us.
Slowly, reluctantly, I retracted my finger from Camilla's lips. Her breathing came in shallow, panicked gasps. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her lips parted slightly, still wet from where she’d worried them with her teeth. She wetted her lips, those rosy lips, turning away from me. Her face was flushed, her skin cheeks colored with an embarrassing shade of blush. She stood there, against the wall, tugging at the hem of her skirt. I could see it in her eyes, the way they darted from side to side, as if searching for an escape. Yet, the only one was through me.
And then again, that very voice.
"Steffy-boo..." Isabella cooed.
She repeated the name, and I felt a muscle tick in my jaw, my hands curling into fists at my sides. She clearly meant it as an endearment term, but it felt more like a leash to the neck. I knew I had to face her, but I didn't have to do it, not immediately.
I didn't turn to face her immediately. Instead, I kept my eyes on Camilla, watching her reaction. That, itself, was entertaining, enjoyable. She was still breathing heavily, her gaze flicking between me and the approaching footsteps. Her hands, still trembling, kept pulling at her skirt, trying to smooth it down.
“Stop calling me that,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for myself to hear, but not so loud that Isabella would catch on. I could hear her coming closer, her heels clicking against the polished floor.
Three!
Two!
One!
I pulled away from Camilla, creating a reasonable gap between us, a necessary one. Isabella’s perfume reached me before she did, a cloud of peachy sweetness that made my nose twitch. I could already imagine the simpering look on her face, the wide smile, the way her eyes would light up with that desperate need for attention. She craved the spotlight, always had. But right now? I had no patience for it.
“I called you," she said, crossing her arms.
“I received it,” I responded, forcing myself to remain calm, though every nerve in my body screamed for her to disappear. I couldn't spare her a glance. Camilla was still here, still trembling, still watching me with that frightened expression.
I needed to relish every moment of that.
Isabella came into my line of sight, strutting into the room as if she owned it. Her dress, a flowy red mini dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and she was painfully aware of it.
"Steffy, I texted, you didn’t text me back," she whined, her voice rising an octave, like she was scolding me. I wanted to tell her to shut up. To go away. But I couldn’t, not yet.
Even after stepping back, Camilla still leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her fingers white-knuckled. She kept biting her lower lip, a nervous habit I had noticed earlier. Her breaths were quick, and the color in her cheeks was still bright.
I had rattled her. I had affected her. Perfect.
Camilla down, Isabelle to go. Of course, Isabella kept pushing. “We were supposed to have lunch, remember?” I finally turned to face her, forcing a tight smile to my lips. My patience was wearing thin, and I could feel it slipping away with every passing second.
“Isabella, I’ve been very busy,” I said, the words hollow as they left my mouth. My eyes flicked back to Camilla, catching the way she was inching away, still trying to make herself as small as possible. She was literally squeezing into the wall.
Isabella stepped closer to me, brushing her fingers against my arm. “Busy with what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, resting her hands on her hips.
Not now, Belly.
I could almost smell it. Suspicion was creeping into her tone. But I wasn't going to do that with her. I wasn't going to give her the liberty. Oblivious. I was going to remain that.
My tie squeezed against my neck, as if I were being punished for a lie I hadn't even told.
Wait, technically, it wasn't a lie. I was busy. With work. And. Well, with Camilla.
I wore a neutral expression. “Work, Isabella. I’ve been busy with work.”
Her lips puckered into a slight pout, as though she were offended by the mere suggestion that I might have something more important than her. “Well, I’m here now, so let’s go.”
Didn't she… Hasn’t she? She still hadn’t noticed Camilla. Or maybe she had and chose to ignore her, like she ignored anything that didn’t directly concern her.
Typical.
I glanced back at Camilla, whose wide eyes were still trained on me, her body language screaming discomfort. I almost smiled. Almost. The power I held over her was intoxicating, even now, with Isabella breathing down my neck.
“Not now, Isabella,” I said, my voice firmer this time. “I have something to finish here.”
Isabella huffed, clearly irritated, but she didn’t argue. Not yet, anyway. She stepped back, giving me space. “Well, I'm not going anywhere. I’m going to remain here, till you're ready to have lunch with me.” She huffed, a pout matting her face. The sulkiness in her posture was impossible to miss.
Isabella.
“I’ll deal with you later, Camilla,” I said.
Without another word, I turned away from her, toward Isabella, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. "Let’s go," I said, my voice smooth, as though I hadn’t just cornered and controlled someone moments ago.
I did enjoy the thrill of it.
Isabella skipped over to my side, her fingers digging into my arm, rubbing circles over my skin. Right, as if a mere touch could ease the tension I was feeling. She clung to me tightly, her body pressed so close that it was almost suffocating. I had to force myself not to shrug her off right then and there. The way she was holding onto me, so desperate for affection, for attention, it was the last thing I needed right now.
"I need to pick some stuff up at the office," I said, hoping she’d take the hint and back off, if only for a moment. She pouted, of course, her lip jutting out like a child.
“Can’t we just go? You promised we’d have lunch,” she whined.
I stopped walking for a second, fixing her with a steady look. “And we will. I promise. We pick it up and we leave,” I said, making sure my tone was firm enough to stop any more complaints. She hesitated, clearly not thrilled, but nodded.
“Great!”
As we walked toward the elevator, Isabella’s eyes shifted toward the direction we had just come from.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Okay, her voice was deceptively casual. I could literally see through it. My jaw tightened. Of course, she had noticed. She only chose to ignore. Still, I wasn't going to discuss it with her. Our arrangement was simple: we made each other happy, and we didn't pry too much into each other's secrets. Alright, I had indulged in a string of affairs behind Isabella's back, but I couldn't resist the thrill of the chase. I liked things with Isabella. She met my needs, and that I made her happy. That was what mattered. That was enough.
“No one,” I said. I hoped she would just let it go. For a moment, I thought maybe she had.
But she stopped walking, her grip on my arm tightening. “Steffy, she didn’t look like no one,” she said, her voice sharper now.
Hell!
I kept my expression neutral, but inside, I was seething. I didn’t want to explain myself. Not now, not after what had just happened with Camilla. I didn’t want to think about the way her body had felt pressed against mine. My groin still tightened at the way her curves had distracted me, the way she had wetted those rosy lips.
I couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not with Isabella clinging to me and asking questions I didn’t want to answer.
We stepped into the elevator, and I pulled her inside, my hand resting on the small of her back as I pressed the button for the top floor.
I needed her to stop asking questions. I needed her to shut up. Camilla’s frightened face was still fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t ignore the way she had looked at me. Her face morphed into Isabella's, who was still looking at me, waiting for some kind of explanation. But I had nothing to offer her, no words that would make this go away.
So, there was only one thing left to do.
I reached out, pressing the lock button on the elevator panel, the soft “click” reaching my ears.
Good, we were alone, undisturbed.
And then, without warning, I turned to her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her against me. I crushed my lips to hers, cupping her cheeks. She resisted me, her lips pressed together tightly. I teased, my tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, begging for entry. She froze. But only for a second. I went on, circling my arms around her waist. The smell of her perfume, of the soft, peachy scent of her conditioner, left me light headed, blood rushing to my groin. But as she kissed me back, Isabella’s lips were devastatingly soft against mine. Her lips sang soft moans. She pulled at my collar, her other hand tangling in my hair. Her hands danced across my chest, birthing goosebumps on my skin.
Good.
I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to explain. I just wanted her to stop talking, to stop pushing. I needed control, and this was the easiest way to get it.