My body ignited with a fervent blaze.

"I suppose resistance is futile," he murmured, drawing me into a close embrace. My hands rested upon his chest, establishing a measured distance between us that bore an underlying yearning.

The implication of his words left me pondering. What did he mean by not being able to stay away? Was it concerning the deal, a check on my progress, or something more cryptic?

"Callum, let me go," I asserted, gazing up at him through the curtain of hair that concealed my face.

His eyes scanned my features, comprehending my words while deciphering the unspoken sentiment. Despite my verbal request, my eyes betrayed my desires. Still, he complied, retracting his hands and taking a step back.

Unbelievable. Who plays a slow song in a nightclub? It contradicted the very essence of the establishment. As I listened to the lyrics, I realized the tune was not merely slow but sensuously charged. A shiver coursed through me.

He had been so close, his imposing form in front of me, his artfully disheveled hair brushing against my face and neck. After he stepped away, my hands released their grip on his chest, hanging by my sides. His fingers flexed in a way that hinted at restraint, a struggle against his desire to touch me.

"If I were to formally request a dance, would you allow me to hold you?" His words hung in the air, and I contemplated his proposition. The logical response was to refuse, to safeguard my sanity. But would I defy my instincts and decline?

Responding to his query, I inched forward, tempting him to encircle my waist with his arms. I trembled as his hands made contact, this time under my initiative rather than possessiveness. The pressure of his fingertips against my sides left an indelible impression.

"This behavior, especially with your notable flirtation with Celina, is unbecoming," I reproached him. Our bodies swayed in gentle orbits, my eyes barely peeking over his shoulder to assess the surroundings. My attention flickered to the bar, seeking signs of Celina, though she was conspicuously absent. Hopefully, she had excused herself to the restroom.

"No impropriety resides in sharing a dance, Gianna," he asserted, lifting his head from my shoulder to lock eyes with mine. A teasing smirk graced his features.

"Unless, of course, you desire it," he insinuated, his gaze tracing my form, unabashedly assessing me.

"I would rather never have crossed paths with you, Callum Black," I retorted with a coy grin, coating my words with a hint of bitterness. My voice dripped with disdain, emphasizing my discontent.

He met my gaze once more, his eyes darkening several shades. His proximity remained, his hands resting on my waist. A deeper, more intense connection hung between us, brimming with implications.

"And you seem to relish misconstruing events, something that could easily tarnish my reputation," he retorted, his eyes narrowing. He let go of my waist, stepping back and averting his gaze, his jaw clenched. In that moment, his flirty demeanor gave way to a surge of arrogance.

"You should have thought about that before resorting to violence behind an unlocked door," I countered, my gaze locked onto his. I approached him, narrowing the distance to a mere inch between us.

"You have no right to be outraged when my sole memorable interaction with you, Mr. Callum, consisted of observing you brutally assault someone and subsequently threaten my past." My chest heaved as anger welled within me. My heart raced, and a swirl of emotions surged within. The atmosphere was thick with tension, a charged energy enveloping us.

"I don't require validation from strangers, especially those who have already formed unwarranted judgments," he seethed, his grip on my waist tightening. He turned and strode toward the bar, leaving me standing there, astonished.

My heart raced wildly, my chest heaving as if I had run a marathon. The abrupt shift in our interaction left me reeling, struggling to regain my equilibrium. Supposedly, I should despise him, yet his very presence wielded an uncanny influence over my body and mind.

I attempted to center myself, suppressing the chaotic turmoil within, and returned to the table where Amy and Leo awaited.

Formulating a plan, I decided to fetch some water, eager to regain my composure after the intense encounter. As I navigated the crowd, I reached the bar and claimed a stool, placing an order for several ice waters.

"Here you are," the bartender handed me the drinks, and I paid with a grateful smile before turning my attention to the mesmerizing scene of people dancing and mingling.

"Ma'am, can I get you another one?" he asked, his tone courteous.

"Thank you, but not just yet," I replied, my focus unwavering.

A hand abruptly clutched my arm, tugging me into a secluded corner at the end of the hallway. A body shielded me from the surroundings, my scream silenced as a hand covered my mouth.

"Open your eyes, Gianna," a gravelly voice commanded. Realizing I had involuntarily shut them, I complied, meeting Callum's piercing grey gaze. His jaw clenched, his form enveloping me like a shadow. The hand that had muffled my protest now settled at my waist, pushing me flush against him, while the other found the nape of my neck.

A mixture of relief and frustration welled up, my heart racing at the sight of him. My initial fright dissolved as I pulled him closer, drawn to the intensity in his gaze.

Maintaining eye contact, we engaged in an unspoken duel, our breaths ragged and charged with a potent energy.

"The only memorable encounter, my ass," his voice was rough, his frustration evident. His face drew near, lips crushing against mine, the gasp I emitted captured by his fervent kiss. His kiss was ardent, a blend of passion and tenderness. As his lips moved with mine, I instinctively tangled my fingers in his hair, eliciting a shiver from him.

In the midst of our heated embrace, realization dawned: I was kissing him back.