Chapter 4

• Delilah wasted no time. She moved slowly, circling Marco as if she were stalking a prey.
• The music playing softly in the background set the rhythm, but it was her own confidence that controlled the dance.
• Her hips swayed, her body moved fluidly, each motion designed to captivate. She leaned in, letting her hands gently graze his shoulders before pulling back just enough to tease.
• Marco watched her every move, mesmerized by the confidence in her technique. She was unlike any dancer he had encountered before—there was no hesitation, no doubt.
• She knew exactly what she was doing.
• Delilah didn’t need to rush. She took her time, letting the anticipation build, as her fingers traced along his chest and then drifted away, always keeping a careful distance.
• Her lap dance was flawless, a combination of smooth, sensual movements and calculated control.
• She bent forward, her chest grazing his face as her hands trailed down his arms, then smoothly straddled his lap without missing a beat.
• Her body rocked gently against him, her breath steady, and her movements perfectly timed with the pulse of the music.
• The air between them crackled with passion.
• He leaned back slightly, his eyes following her every motion, his hands itching to touch her, but knowing better than to disrupt the performance.
• There was a silent understanding between them—this was her show, and he was merely the spectator.
• Delilah let her hips move against him smoothly, her body arching as her hands slid down her own sides, teasing but never giving too much.
• Her masked face remained mysterious, but her confidence told Marco everything he needed to know—this woman was sexy.
• As the lap dance continued, Delilah’s moves grew bolder, her body pressing closer to his in slow, tantalizing rhythms.
• She expertly shifted her weight, leaning in just enough to feel the heat between them but never breaking the boundary she had silently established.
• She spun around, her back now against his chest as she moved, arching her spine as her hands ran through her own hair, enhancing the allure of the dance.
• Marco’s breath hitched, but he kept his composure, watching as she continued to move with a confidence that commanded the room.
• Afterwards, Delilah finished with a final, teasing swirl of her hips before standing up, leaving Marco still in his chair, his gaze following her every step.
• Without a word, she gave a small nod, signaling that the dance was over.
• She walked to the door, her heart steady, intending to leave the room. But just as her fingers brushed the door handle, she felt a sudden, firm grip on her wrist.
• In one swift motion, Marco yanked her backward, pulling her toward him. The force of the movement was strong, almost calculated.
• Delilah stumbled slightly, but she quickly regained her balance, her eyes narrowing behind the mask as she was brought face to face with Marco once more.
• There was no fear in her—only surprise, mixed with irritation.
• No one had ever dared to touch her without her permission.
• Marco’s dark eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something intrigued, as his hand reached up slowly.
• With a deliberate, almost teasing slowness, his fingers touched the edge of her mask, tracing the delicate material.
• His other hand still held her wrist, keeping her close. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin.
• Delilah’s heart raced, but she remained composed. She had been in worse situations than this.
• Still, she felt the heat of the moment, the tension between them intensifying. She met his gaze with a steady glare, daring him to continue.
• Then, with a single, fluid motion, Marco slipped the mask from her face.
• For the first time that night, Delilah’s identity was exposed. Her face, usually hidden, was now revealed to him.
• Her piercing eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips were framed by a cascade of auburn hair that tumbled down her shoulders.
• Marco's breath hitched for a moment as he took her in, his grip on her wrist loosening but not letting go.
• His expression shifted, as if he hadn’t expected the woman behind the mask to be quite this captivating.
• Delilah remained silent, her face now unreadable.
• She wasn’t the type to be easily rattled, but she couldn’t deny the ripple of something unfamiliar coursing through her.
• Marco leaned closer, his voice low, his lips curving into a smirk. "I don’t know who you are," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers, "but I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again."
• Delilah raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with a hint of a smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
• Without a word, she yanked her wrist free from his hold, stepping back with her usual confidence.
• She didn’t need to respond to his comment. She had made it clear that she was not interested in seeing him again.
• She turned, walking toward the door again, her heart still steady.
• This time, Marco didn’t stop her. He simply watched as she exited the room, the door closing softly behind her. His gaze lingered on the door for a moment, before a dangerous glint flashed across his eyes.
• "Gino," Marco called out, his voice cutting through the silence.
• The door opened almost immediately, and Gino stepped inside, his imposing frame filling the doorway.
• He looked at Marco, waiting for instructions.
• "I want to know everything about that dancer." Marco’s tone was sharp, leaving no room for doubt. "Who she’s, where she’s from—everything."
• Gino nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood."
• Without another word, Gino turned and exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
• Marco leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face growing wider. His hand drifted to his crotch, fingers brushing against the fabric of his pants, where a noticeable bulge had formed. Then, a wave of satisfaction rolled through him.
• "She’ll be mine," he muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing with intent. She wasn’t just any ordinary dancer, and he would claim her, body, and soul.