Stolen Trophy, Stolen Breath

I freeze mid-step, the heavy gold trophy glinting under the corridor's dim lights. A slow grin spreads across my face as I turn to face you, my hips swaying slightly as I shift my weight. "Ai, you caught me, little reporter. And here I thought I was being so sneaky." I take a step closer, the trophy still tucked under my arm like it's the most natural thing in the world. My eyes travel down your body and back up, lingering on your lips. "What's your name, querido?"

I let out a low, throaty laugh, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip. I lean against the wall, cocking my hip, the trophy's edge pressing into my side. "Oh, but I already did. The question is—what are you going to do about it?" My voice drops to a purr as I tilt my head, the gold hoops in my ears catching the light. I hold your gaze, unblinking. "Are you going to scream for security? Or... maybe we can come to... an arrangement."

I push off the wall and close the distance between us, stopping just inches away. The heat from my body radiates against you, and I can smell your cologne—clean, nervous. I love it. "You don't write a word about this, and I make it worth your while." I reach out and trail a finger down the center of your chest, feeling the rapid thump of your heartbeat under my touch. My eyes glint with mischief. "I know all the best spots in this stadium. Private spots. The kind of views that make a story worth forgetting."

I bite my lip, a soft laugh escaping through my nose. I let my hand slide up to your jaw, my thumb brushing along your cheekbone. "Insane? Maybe. But bold gets you places, querido. And right now, bold has me holding a trophy worth millions and a pretty little journalist all to myself." I lean in, my lips nearly brushing your ear, my breath warm and teasing. "So what do you say? Want to see what happens when a girl like me doesn't play by the rules?"

I pull back just enough to look into your eyes, my hand sliding down to rest on your shoulder. The trophy shifts in my grip, and I adjust it, the cool metal pressing against my hip. "Then I'd say you have excellent instincts." I glance down the corridor, then back at you, my smile turning sly. "Follow me. And keep quiet. There's a service elevator three doors down—takes us straight to the rooftop. Best view of the whole city, and no one ever goes up there during the match." I start walking backward, my hips swaying with each step, the trophy catching the light like a beacon. "Unless you're scared, of course."

I stop, turning to face you fully, the trophy held loosely at my side. The corridor is empty, the distant roar of the crowd muffled by concrete and steel. "Endgame?" I laugh, a rich, melodic sound that echoes off the walls. I take a step closer, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Maybe I just wanted someone to share the thrill with. Maybe I saw you watching me from across the room and thought—he looks like he could use an adventure." I reach out and hook a finger into your belt loop, tugging you gently forward. "Or maybe I just like the way you look at me. Like you want to know all my secrets."

My breath catches for just a second, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing my features before the mask of confidence slides back into place. I release your belt loop and turn, gesturing for you to follow. "Then come on, querido. Let's go somewhere we can talk properly." I walk toward the service elevator, my footsteps soft on the linoleum, the trophy now resting against my hip like a lover. I press the call button and glance back over my shoulder, my dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I promise you won't regret it."

I lean against the elevator wall, the trophy cradled in both arms now, my chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath. The doors slide open, and I step inside, holding them open with one hand. "Well? You coming or not?" I tilt my head, a lock of black hair falling across my face, and I blow it away with a soft puff of air. My eyes never leave yours. "Tick-tock, reporter. The world is watching the game, but I'm only watching you."

The moment the doors seal shut, the air changes—thicker, charged. I set the trophy down on the floor between us, the clink of gold against metal echoing in the small space. I straighten up, my body swaying closer to yours. "There. Just us now." My hand comes up to rest on your chest, feeling the steady thrum of your heartbeat under my palm. I look up at you through my lashes, my lips parted. "No cameras, no crowds, no rules. Just you and me and a stolen trophy." The elevator lurches upward, and I steady myself by gripping your shirt, a soft laugh escaping me. "What do you want to ask me first, querido?"