Episode 2 :- Aftertaste of fire

Crimson Vows – Episode 2: Aftertaste of Fire

The morning after tasted like smoke and regret.

Ariella stood by the tall window of Luca’s penthouse, draped only in his black dress shirt, the silk sliding past her thighs as she sipped espresso she didn’t even like. Her lipstick from last night was gone. So was any illusion of innocence.

The city below buzzed with early chaos, but in here—it was still. Heavy. Like the pause before a gunshot.

Behind her, Luca’s voice cut through the quiet. Low. Rough.

“You left the bed cold.”

She didn’t turn. “I didn’t come here to sleep.”

“No,” he said, slipping on a watch, eyes sharp, voice unreadable. “You came to kill me.”

Silence stretched between them, cruel and intimate.

“I should kill you for what you did,” he continued. “But I didn’t. That should tell you something.”

Ariella finally turned, the cup still in her hand. “You think one night erases bloodlines?”

“No. But it complicates things.”

Their eyes locked. His jaw ticked. Her nails dug into the porcelain.

“You knew who I was before you kissed me,” she said flatly.

“I kissed you because I knew who you were.”

His honesty was a blade. Clean. Deep.

Ariella had danced with death before, but never like this. Never while wanting it to press so close.

“You don’t trust me,” she said, taking a step toward him.

“I don’t even trust myself when it comes to you.”

He crossed the space between them in two strides, his fingers brushing her jaw. “Tell me, volchitsa. Were you ever going to pull the trigger?”

She stared at him, something dangerous stirring in her. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not anymore.

“Good,” he said, brushing a kiss to her neck before turning away. “Because if you had, I would’ve taken you down with me.”

His words left a scorch in her skin long after he was gone.

---

Later that day, Ariella met with Dominik, her Bratva handler, in the back room of an abandoned cathedral. It smelled of dust, wine, and old sins.

“You were with him all night,” Dominik snapped. “Why is he still alive?”

Ariella didn’t flinch. “He’s not stupid. He didn’t drink. Didn't drop his guard.”

Dominik narrowed his eyes. “You’re slipping, Ari. Don’t forget why you were sent. Luca Moretti is not a man to seduce. He’s a man to end.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said tightly.

He stepped closer. “Then act like it. We strike in seven days. Either you open the gates from the inside… or you become expendable.”

The word expendable hung like a noose.

---

That night, Ariella returned to Luca’s club, La Rossa, as if nothing had changed. Her red dress clung to every curve. Eyes followed her. But it was only his that mattered.

He was behind the bar tonight, sleeves rolled up, pouring whiskey for someone who clearly didn’t deserve it. When he saw her, he stopped. Didn’t smile. Just watched.

She walked up, slid onto the barstool.

“Whiskey,” she said, voice like velvet.

He poured. No words. Just a quiet, unreadable look.

“You always this cold the day after?” she asked.

Luca met her gaze. “I don’t do mornings after. You’re an exception.”

She leaned in. “So what now?”

“I don’t know, Ariella,” he said quietly. “What are you doing with me?”

She bit her lip. Then answered honestly. “Losing control.”

His hand stilled. “Good. That makes two of us.”

---

Outside, thunder rolled.

Inside, they danced again—this time in words, in glances, in silence. They didn’t touch. But the space between them sizzled with what they didn’t say.

Luca knew she wasn’t done lying.

Ariella knew he wasn’t done testing her.

But something darker, deeper, pulled them closer every second.

---

At midnight, Luca stepped out for a call. Ariella slipped into his office. Her mission was clear: disable the security panel behind his bookshelf. Easy. Quick.

But when she opened the drawer for tools, she found something else.

A photo.

Of her.

Younger. Hiding behind her father’s coat. Blood on her hands. Fear in her eyes.

Luca had kept it.

Her breath caught.

He’d known her long before last week. Maybe long before she ever knew him.

Her fingers trembled.

Just then, the door creaked open.

“Ariella.”

Luca’s voice was calm.

Too calm.