Tempting Mr. Salvatore

Olivia Fernandes

I woke up with a start. I sat up in bed, breathless, rubbing my hands over my face in a desperate attempt to shake off the tormenting thoughts that haunted me.

For seven days straight, I'd been waking up like this. Dazed, disoriented, sweating, and ashamed.

Whenever I closed my eyes, the vivid, lifelike dream that had been plaguing me all week came rushing back. I could recall every detail-the intensity of his touch, his scent, the overwhelming sensations that took over me when I allowed myself a taste of what could be... if I weren't so damn scared.

That's exactly how I felt every time I saw him.

Lucas. My best friend from college. The popular guy every girl in high school dreams but unlike all the boys I'd known back then, he was different. Handsome, smart, kind.

Which is why I always believed it had to be some sort of trap. There had to be something lurking beneath the surface. Something Lucas was hiding behind all that charm and perfection. Some toxic trait, an annoying habit, poor hygiene- anything to prove he wasn't so... flawless.

But after a year of being around him, I'd found nothing. Nothing to kill the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach every time he smiled at me. Nothing to stop the sharp, aching pull in my chest when he was near.

And that infuriated me. Not because I wanted to find something wrong with him, but because I wanted to stop feeling this way. I wanted to get rid of the helplessness that came with being too afraid to admit how I felt.

It wasn't just cowardice. It was this gut-deep fear that telling him would ruin everything. That he'd laugh, or worse, pity me.

It was hard not to believe my looks would get in the way again.

My brother had done a pretty good job convincing me no one would ever find me remotely attractive. And even though people constantly told me otherwise-even though I was often considered one of the prettiest girls in class despite not being a size zero-I still doubted it.

I always wore dresses that flattered my curves, mostly pastel shades, adorned with bows and lace, romantic and vintage all at once. I turned heads, sure.

But emotional scars from abuse don't fade so easily.

And throughout the day, while I got ready for Lucas's 24th birthday party, all those thoughts clung to me like fog.

Love, insecurity, courage-they tangled in my mind like a web I couldn't escape from. And as I stared at myself in the mirror, I knew the choice to untangle it all rested entirely in my hands.

The door creaked open, and I jumped slightly. My roommate stepped in, eyes widening as she took in my appearance.

"Damn, Liv!" Natália whistled. "If I were single, I'd hit on you." She winked, and I gave her a shy, sheepish smile.

Compliments were always hard for me to take, even though I heard them often.

"Do you think I overdid it?" I smoothed down a wrinkle in the black velvet dress. It had a slit on the right thigh and a plunging neckline that showed just enough.

"With the Salvatores? Honestly, you might be underdressed." Nat pulled a worn-out pack of cigarettes from her bag and tossed it onto the bed, leaning by the window to light one.

I frowned, worried at her words, but she just shrugged and went on, "You look amazing, seriously. They're just over the top. I mean, people say Lucas's mom is weird."

"Everyone says that. I still think it might be an exaggeration," I said, slipping on a pair of black heels and placing a matching headband delicately on my head.

The truth is, I didn't know what to think about Lucas's family. Unlike most wealthy families, they were very private.

No tabloid drama, no scandals, not even a single juicy rumor. They would be completely anonymous-if they didn't practically fund the entire university.

That was part of what made me so nervous about tonight. That, and the fact that I'd chosen this party as the moment I would finally tell Lucas how I felt.

So, I spent the whole day getting ready. I put on my best outfit and mentally rehearsed every word of my carefully planned confession.

On the ride there, I kept reciting my speech in my head, trying not to forget anything important. But the moment the driver pulled up to the Salvatore estate's front gate, it was like my brain went numb.

Security checked my name on the list and pointed me toward the path leading to the house. For a second, I genuinely thought I'd arrived at a second university campus- it was that massive.

It took a few minutes to walk the stone path, and let me tell you, walking in stilettos was not helping.

As soon as I heard the thump of bass-heavy music, I knew I was close.

I entered through a side entrance-far from the main doors of the mansion-where a few staff members were welcoming guests. And then I understood what Nat had meant.

Everything was... extravagant. Loud colors, ornate chandeliers, bold and even bizarre decor. Irregular geometric shapes, provocative art hanging on the walls.

Yet the paintings stood out. They were beautiful in a way that clashed with everything else- subtle colors dulled by harsh lighting, yet they pulsed with emotion, each brushstroke soaked in a kind of raw, passionate energy.

I stood there, transfixed, completely absorbed by the naked honesty in the images, one depicting love in its most vulnerable, unfiltered form.

The room grew warmer and more crowded with every passing second. I felt out of place, surrounded by strangers, my nerves prickling.

And then I saw him.

Olivia Fernandes

Bathed in hues of soft blue and pink light, he stood tall and radiant, surrounded by a few familiar faces from college. Lucas smiled, easy and content in his own skin, just as he always seemed to be.

Even the way he moved felt perfect. Or maybe that was just me. Everything about him was magnetic.

He turned under my intense gaze, and when our eyes met, his smile deepened, his expression mirroring the intensity of mine. His brows lifted in surprise, and he immediately started walking toward me.

My entire body trembled, as if I might collapse under the weight of anticipation. My fingers clutched the small clutch in my hands, the sweat on my palms making the fabric slippery.

I took a deep breath, trying to stay grounded as he approached-gorgeous, effortless, like a mirage in slow motion.

"Olivia Fernandes!" he beamed, gently taking my hand and spinning me around. "Black looks incredible on you, Liv. Seriously-wow."

The words formed in my throat, but the air just wouldn't leave my lungs. I was entranced by that perfect smile-his dazzling white teeth, the way they contrasted against his tanned skin. My gaze dropped for a moment, catching the outline of his sculpted abs beneath his fitted shirt. I swear I forgot how to breathe.

It felt like one of those dreams I'd been having.

But not every dream is sweet. Some shift-subtly, suddenly-into nightmares. And right then, everything shifted.

She appeared. A stunning woman slicing through the crowd like she belonged to another world. Her fiery red waves cascaded over a generous chest, her crimson lipstick perfectly matching the striking red of her dress.

It was like Jessica Rabbit had stepped out of a screen and taken over the room. Including his attention.

Lucas froze, eyes locked on her, lips slightly parted, blinking slowly-if at all.

And then, just when I thought it couldn't get worse, he smiled. That familiar, beautiful smile. For her. She wrapped her entire body around him in a full-bodied hug and kissed him-deeply, if briefly.

A thunderclap rumbled outside, loud and violent, like the storm was echoing the turmoil inside me. Startled gasps rose all around, but I barely registered them.

"Lucas?" I managed, barely more than a whisper. The disappointment in my voice was unmistakable.

He glanced at me with a sheepish smile, his arm still wrapped firmly around the redhead's waist.

"Olivia, this is Luara. My ex-well, I guess I can say girlfriend now, right?" he said, then kissed her again.

It had to be a nightmare.

That word-nightmare-thundered through my mind, over and over again. I'd never even heard of this woman. I didn't know he'd ever had a girlfriend.

Something felt off, but none of that mattered now. My heart had shattered into a thousand pieces, and all my carefully laid plans were crumbling with it-washed away like the rain outside, relentless and cold.

"Nice to meet you, Luara," I murmured, forcing a polite smile as some friends called Lucas over. The couple excused themselves and disappeared into the crowd.

The sounds around me turned to static. Muffled voices, distant music, blurred laughter-all of it faded as I fought back the tears stinging behind my eyes. It was a mess of shame and humiliation. I felt like everyone had seen it. Like the universe had chosen this exact moment to tear everything apart.

And all I could think of was escape. I couldn't yell. I couldn't curse. I couldn't break down like I wanted to. All I could do was run.

I stormed toward the exit, dodging drunken bodies that only made my chest tighten with suffocating anxiety. That image-him, kissing her-looped in my mind on repeat.

When I finally reached the door, I ignored the worried glances from the staff as I stepped into the torrential rain without hesitation.

I didn't care. I didn't care about my hair or the makeup that had taken hours. I didn't care about the perfect dress or my ruined shoes or the handbag failing to shield my belongings.

All I heard was the sharp click of my heels against the stone path as I made my way across what felt like miles to the estate's massive gates.

But before I could get there, a car pulled up beside me, matching my pace.

My heart jumped. For a split second, I thought it was Lucas.

The rain was so heavy I could barely see, but that car-it looked just like his. Identical, even. Despite the storm, I was sure it had to be him.

For a brief moment, hope flared inside me. Maybe he'd noticed I left. Maybe he was coming after me, ready to apologize, ready to fix everything.

I clung to that thought.

Of course it was him. Who else would it be?

Without thinking twice, I dashed toward the car and pulled the door open, desperate to escape the downpour-and desperate to hear the words I needed to hear.

But the moment I slid inside and looked up...

My world collapsed all over again.

It wasn't Lucas.

Olivia Fernandes

The frustration I felt lasted less than a millisecond-just long enough for my brain to register the sight before me. And for the second time that night, I was completely speechless.

My eyes swept over him, absorbing every detail. One hand gripped the steering wheel with quiet confidence. Veins ran along his forearm and up to a defined bicep beneath a damp, clinging shirt. His chest was outlined through the soaked fabric of his white dress shirt, a few stray raindrops trailing down his collarbone. His glasses were slightly fogged, and wet black hair-threaded with a few strands of gray-clung to his forehead. The faint scruff lining his jaw completed the picture. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a film.

For a few seconds, all I could do was look. I wanted to remember, like he might disappear any moment. I needed to etch that face into memory, that almost hypnotic presence. But the silence between us eventually dragged me back to reality.

What the hell was I doing in his car?

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice low, shaken. I was in a complete stranger's car.

"You're the one in my car, so I think I should be the one asking that," he replied, with a smile that made my entire body melt-though I'd never admit it.

"Oh my God," I muttered, finally grasping how insane this was. I had just jumped into a random man's car. What the hell was I thinking? I blamed Lucas for this. All of this.

I grabbed the door handle, determined to end this moment of madness as quickly as possible. But the second I tried to leave, a warm, firm hand caught my wrist.

His touch sent a jolt through me-from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet-but of course, I blamed the cold. The rain. I'd always found it easier to blame whatever was around me than to face the truth.

And the truth this stranger was making me nervous.

"I can't let you walk out in that storm," he said, releasing my wrist.

I almost moaned in frustration when he let go. But I held it in. I was still me-still Olivia. The girl who kept her emotions locked down tight.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't even know you. Honestly, I think I'm safer walking in the rain than sitting in a stranger's car." I tried to sound firm, but my voice cracked just slightly.

He gave a crooked smile, adjusting his glasses as they slid down his nose. One eyebrow lifted.

"Dante. Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand toward me.

I stared at it, frozen. I didn't move. Didn't shake it. But God, I wanted to. Just to feel that electric spark again.

"Olivia," I said flatly. "Knowing your name doesn't mean I trust you, Dante."

"You'd be a fool if you did," he said with a short laugh, then, without warning, buckled his seatbelt and locked the doors. The engine purred to life.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I snapped. "Are you insane?!"

His smirk returned, calm and collected in the most infuriating way.

"Buckle up and give me your address. I'm taking you home. Safe and sound," he said with steady conviction, like this was the most logical thing in the world.

I glanced out the window at the guards stationed at Lucas's mansion. I banged on the glass, hoping to get their attention, but nothing.

"The windows are bulletproof," he said, chuckling, pulling away from the curb. He turned on the radio to some random station and grabbed a watermelon-flavored gum from the glovebox.

He offered me one. I waved his hand away with a sharp flick of my fingers.

"I don't know what your deal is, or what you want, but I have a tracking chip. They'll find me," I bluffed, my voice steady and clear this time.

He laughed- really laughed. Like I'd just told the funniest joke of the night.

"I just want to take you home, Olivia," he repeated. And then, once again, his hand returned to my wrist.

I closed my eyes, breathing in deep as the warmth of his touch seeped into my rain-chilled skin.

Why does this feel so good?

I shook my head, trying to push away the thought, but he noticed. He saw that it wasn't just the physical touch that affected me. There was something else, something deeper. And it intrigued him.

Without saying another word, he gestured to the GPS and asked for my address. Reluctantly, I typed in a random location wasn't about to give him my real one.

We drove aimlessly around the city for a while. When the car finally stopped at the address I'd entered, he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

"All right, Olivia. Since you won't tell me where to take you... I'll choose the destination."