Sinful Desires

Meeting Selena

Two Days Later

Victor stood motionless before the mirror in his new villa, studying his reflection. Gone was his usual pristine suit, replaced by dark casual clothes that helped him blend into shadows. A black cap sat low over his eyes, partially concealing the face that had become a legend in the criminal underworld. His check his wristwatch, 8:15 PM.

It was time.

From downstairs, the familiar sound of Jordan and Maria's bickering echoed through the halls.

"I'm telling you, that's not how you play poker!" Jordan's voice carried up to him. "You can't just change the rules because you're losing!"

"I'm not changing anything," Maria shot back, irritation creeping in her voice. "You're just mad because I keep taking your money."

"Bullshit! I'm mad because you're cheating!"

"It's called strategy, Jordan. Maybe try using your brain instead of just cursing all the time?"

Their playful argument died instantly when Victor appeared in the doorway. Something about his presence tonight was different—colder, more dangerous than usual. The air seemed different about him, heavy with tension.

Maria stepped forward, concern etching lines around her eyes. "Victor—" she began, but stopped herself. What could she say? She knew where he was going, knew why he had to go, even if it broke her heart to watch him still chase after Selena's ghost.

"Yo boss, you going to check on Selena?" Jordan blurted out without thought, then immediately let out a yelp as Maria's elbow connected with his ribs. "Ow! Jesus, Maria! Sorry, sorry," he whispered, finally reading the room's heavy atmosphere.

Victor moved past them without a word, his footsteps silent on the marble floors. One of his security detail moved to follow, but Victor held up his hand. "Stay. This is something I need to do alone."

Outside, he walked past the line of luxury cars in the driveway, heading straight for a sleek black motorcycle. From the window, Maria watched him go, her heart constricting in her chest. She hated this—hated how Selena still had such a hold on him after everything she'd done, hated how she couldn't stop her own feelings for him from growing despite knowing his heart was locked in a cage of betrayal and revenge.

Jordan stood beside her, uncharacteristically quiet. His usual jokes and curses died on his lips as he watched her expression, saw the pain she tried so hard to hide. His fists clenched at his sides, wishing he knew how to comfort her, wishing he could be more than just the crude joker she saw him as. But he didn't know how to be anything else, especially around her.

The motorcycle's engine roared to life, cutting through the quiet night, and Victor disappeared into the darkness.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up near the Inferno Club. The sight of it sent a wave of memories crashing over him, memories he'd spent five years trying to bury. The club sat beneath his old penthouse—the place where he'd been shot, betrayed, left for dead by the two people he'd trusted most in the world.

Xavier had changed everything about the club, erasing every trace of Victor's influence. Where there had once been understated class, now there was garish display. The line outside was long, filled with the city's elite waiting to get in, flashing money and jewelry like badges of honor.

Victor bypassed them all, using one of the old service entrances he'd had installed years ago—one of many secrets Xavier had never discovered except for Selena. Inside, the transformation was even more apparent. Crystal chandeliers had replaced the vintage lighting he'd chosen so carefully. Gold accents covered every surface, screaming new money and desperation to impress.

That's when he saw her.

Selena stood by the VIP section, and the sight of her made his heart stutter in his chest despite everything. She was still breathtaking—maybe even more so than he remembered. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the light like liquid silk. The red dress she wore clung to curves he remembered all too well, that was the same dress she wore on that day, the color a cruel reminder of the blood she'd helped spill. She moved through the crowd with effortless grace, commanding attention without trying. Five years hadn't changed her at all—she was still the woman who could stop hearts with a smile.

And she had stopped his, right before she'd helped Xavier put a bullet in it.

Victor felt bile rise in his throat, bitter as the memories that flooded his mind. She looked so perfect, so untouchable—like the last five years of his pain and rage hadn't touched her at all. Gerald's intel had been right; with Xavier meeting the Moretti family about their failing drug operations (operations Victor had been systematically destroying), Selena was handling the club alone tonight.

He moved through the crowd, keeping his head low but his eyes fixed on her. Each step brought another memory he'd tried to forget—their first meeting in this very club, her laugh echoing off these walls. Their first kiss in his office upstairs, when he'd thought he'd found something real in this fake world. The countless nights they'd spent planning their future together, making promises that turned out to be nothing but carefully crafted lies.

Selena turned, laughing at something one of her security guards had said, the sound like broken glass in Victor's ears. Then her eyes met his, and the laugh died in her throat. He saw the exact moment recognition hit her—saw her face drain of color, saw her lips part in shock, saw her take an involuntary step backward as if she'd seen a ghost.

Which, in a way, she had.

"Victor?" she whispered, his name falling from her lips like a prayer or a curse, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

He lifted his head slowly, deliberately, letting her see his face clearly in the flashing lights. "Hello, Selena," he said softly, his voice somehow carrying despite the chaos around them. "Miss me?"

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment as they stared at each other, five years of pain and betrayal hanging in the air between them like an unspoken curse.