Jasmine put the final touches to her make-up, checked her perfectly done kitty eyeliner, rouge lips and lightly tinted pink cheeks and added a spray of her preferred perfume of vanilla and berries, then carefully placed dangling gold earrings to her ears.

She took a step back as her eyes wander over herself in the full length mirror dressed in her tight backless silver dress. Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She battled a final moment of doubt, slipping on her pumps while staring at her reflection the whole time. Granted, it was a simple dinner, but she felt like she was exposing too much skin while the dress was explicitly too tight. It was so tight, it stuck to her body like second skin.

However, the opportunity to change was not a choice for Sammy choose 'the killer' dress as he put it. After taking it off the hanger he let out a wolf whistle and assured her Cristiano will be drooling like the mongrel he was.

"I hope I don't regret this night." She murmurs to her reflection. Ready to turn to grab her night clutch, Sammy stuck his head into the bedroom and started to say something, then stopped stock still as he took in her appearance.

Jasmine lifted a finely arched eyebrow. "You're looking sharp, Sammy."

Dressed all in black–slacks, blazer, dress shirt and satiny tie, he looked like an elegant masculine man. He really does clean up real nice when he tried, she thought. She hoped his acting skills were just as polished as his image.

"Oooooh girl, look at you. You slaying for the Gods tonight! Yassssss, Ma'am!"

As he did a fine inspection of her dress and hair, she found his eyes pause and narrow on her shoes.

She looks down with a frown. "What?"

"Uh-uh. Take those off. Bitch, do we need to rewatch Cinderella? Cause she's living proof that a new pair of shoes can change your life forever. The only difference between me and Cindy is I would run back for the shoes."

Coco appears in the doorway, barking in agreement, sniffing around as dogs do. Her little eyes spot Jasmine's pink slippers and immediately begins chewing on them.

Jasmine huffs in annoyance and rolls her eyes. "The whole purpose of the story is the best things in life aren't free. If you went back for the shoes, then the Prince wouldn't have been able to find you." She replies, stuffing her clutch with her identification card, lipstick and a compact mirror.

"Girl, I can't help it, I have an obsession with shoes. If somebody gifted me free glass pumps you think I'd leave that shit behind?" He says snapping his finger in a zig zag motion. "Uh, uh, I ain't leaving that shit behind for nobody and I don't give a damn if he's a Prince. Coco Chanel wouldn't have either. Plus life ain't no damn fairytale. If you be losing your shoes and shit at midnight, bitch you drunk." He finished a matter of factly.

Coco barked again, as if to reaffirm the statement.

"Of course you would." She agreed. "What should I wear instead, Mr. Expert?" She asks, her words laced with sarcasm. Jasmine walked to the end of her closet lined with designer shoes of every color.

He taps his chin thoughtfully, strutting in as though he owned the ground he walked on. Jasmine could only shake her head. Sammy wouldn't have to say a word, his actions will be the end of their charade, she thought. He was bound to slip.

"Let me see here . . ." Stopping in front of a row of Black pumps. "I love these sexy red Christian Louboutin's. Just look at the matching red-lacquered soles. They scream sex! These will most definitely do, if I don't say so myself!" He exclaims, swiping them off their perched position on the shelf and carries them to her by the stiletto heel. "Slip these beauties on and let's get this show started."

Jasmine does as he instructs quite reluctantly. "Don't you think I'm flashing too much skin? I feel naked. I mean look at the back of this dress!"

"Girl, that's the whole point! Men die when they see something they can't have!" He said, gesturing with his hands at her body. "You're going to kill him slowly and let him burn like an over baked calzone. If he doesn't burn, he's never gonna learn. Trust me, I'm the expert remember? Every pair of straight eyes is going to eye fück the hell outta you!"

The prospect didn't particularly displease her, however she wasn't sure how she felt about drawing attention to herself as she stood by and admired by hungry looking men. Becoming a distraction was part of the plan, but attracting others was not apart of hers.

She was juggling enough problems as it is.

"This dress is too much. I'd hate to attract unnecessary attention." She says, gesturing to her body.

"The hell you ain't! You're going to wear it and that's a fücking order. We don't want Russo to just notice you, we want him to remember how you looked tonight every time he closes his eyes! He's gonna stare at you no matter what you wear, lets make it worth his while. . .shall we?"

"How reassuring." Replying dryly. Taking one last glance at the mirror and fixing her hair in place she says, "Please make sure you act like a refined gentleman at all times, Sammy, and stay by my side. And please, please don't order a martini. . . Order something stronger. . .or should I say, less girly." She says over her shoulder, grabbed her clutch and started to leave her closet, heading to her bedroom door, Sammy following.

"Don't you worry about me, girl. I got this." Sammy rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Everything will go according to plan."

Finally, they pull up to the restaurant Cristiano booked. It was an uptight French bistro with rooftop seating that overlooked the skyline of the city. It provided a very romantic, comfortable backdrop for couples wanting privacy.

They walked through a large dining room with a grand piano, then through a sliding door to the rooftop pool. Tables outlined the pool with soft lanterns swaying in the light breeze that cool evening. Now that summer was over, a chill lingered in the air as the sun was setting in the distance and made it feel colder, chilling her skin and making her instantly regretting wearing such a skimpy dress.

Nervously, Jasmine walked along the edge holding on to Sammy's proffered arm as they were led by the host to their table. As they got closer, Cristiano come into view with his fiancée. Her heart gave a strange thump.

She found it odd to find them both on their phones instead of engaging in conversation like most couples. Cristiano's fiancée appeared to be scrolling through her phone, deep in concentration while he was on his, talking to someone. They weren't acting like a typical, in-love, engaged couple.

Thinking back to the day in the park, she recalled the woman had showed some affection whereas Cristinao repelled it, barely showing any sign of it. Even now as she witnessed them side by side. They were together but not really together. It was hard for her to explain. They appeared like a pair of mutual acquaintances and not in love. They were too withdrawn from one other.

Was what Cristinao said to her in the elevator true? Was their union arranged? Originally she thought he was lying just to sway her to him so he'd appear more appealing and not the scoundrel she thought him to be. However, the more she saw, the more questions she had. And the more confusion she felt, the more frustrated she became. At times it felt like a slow simmering inferno building inside her.

Things just didn't add up. Nothing made sense only adding to the mystery surrounding Cristiano.

He caught her gaze in the next moment, his eyebrows rising.

He looked magnificent. Dark hair teased by the faint breeze. Broad shoulders and superb musculature was emphasized by a cream colored suit and open-necked white shirt. He looked intensely male, emanating a slight air of aggressiveness.

Jasmine's mind flashes back to her dream and she turns hot.

"I'll talk to you later." He breathed to their person on the phone, never looking away from Jasmine, and he rose to his feet.

She immediately noticed his gaze travel up and down her body. She felt the embarrassed flush staining her cheeks, feeling his heavy weight of his stare sear her skin. As much as she disliked his attention, at the same time she craved it like a child craved candy.

Unconsciously, her grip tightened on Sammy's arm. In return he gave her a little squeeze in reassurance.

"Relax." He mutters beneath his breath without looking at her. "It's time to misbehave." A smug smirk lifting the side of his lips.

Jasmine forced herself to relax as instructed. Always priding herself on her fire and ice attitude, it failed her whenever this man was concerned.

But what she wanted more than that was for him to burn for her. To want her with a passion that bordered on insanity. One thing she was sure of: she wanted him to suffer. To hurt. To want something so much you lose it before you realized you ever had it. He was going to pay for his degrading words. And above all, he was going to pay for putting her through hell for the past several weeks with his flowers and riddles.

She smiled in polite indifference as they approached the set table with flickering candles and immaculate place settings. Sammy and Cristiano share a masculine handshake. He turns to Jasmine and she extends her arm reluctantly to shake his in greeting. Her fingers were cold as they met his large warm ones. He lifts her arm and brings his lips to the back of her knuckles with a lingering kiss.

"Yasmina. Your beauty astounds me." He says, never taking his dark eyes from hers. His smile sexy as sin.

Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink and she couldn't meet his eyes any longer. As his fingertips stroked her skin, she felt his nearness, felt his powerful body towering over hers.

Swallowing, she says, "I prefer Jasmine." She replies, nearly yanking her hand away.

He inclined his head as his smirk widened, acknowledging her correction, but didn't modify her name when he said, "Si, however, I prefer Yasmina."

Gritting her teeth together, she chose to ignore him and shifted her attention to his fiancée.

"I still sense a good measure of resentment from you, Yasmina." He whispered for her ears only. She didn't reply, and after an awkward silence, he said, "It appears that I am yet to be forgiven."

Jasmine listened to the exchange between Sammy and Cristiano's fiancée while holding her clutch against her chest and learned her name was Alessandra. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught Cristiano eyeing the exposed display of skin of her back. Jasmine continued to pointedly ignore him and faced his fiancée with a soft smile.

Up close for the first time she couldn't help but admire the Italian woman. She was a stunning, the epitome of Italian beauty with perfect brown hair highlighted with streaks of blonde and skin tone the color of honey. Her face was heart-shaped, perfect jaw, high cheekbones, full plump lips and the skin of her face looked clear and perfect like the rest of her. Her model figure was dressed in a body fitting knee-high cocktail dress with killer matching heels.

Jasmine was surprised to find Alessandra with a heavy accent. Her English was impeccable, but her Italian accent was very noticeable as they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. The four of them sat with Jasmine sitting directly facing Cristiano. And she knew it was done on purpose so he could watch her while he leaned back in his chair comfortably. He stares at her, unblinking, for several long moments. The look in Cristiano's eyes is unreadable as they stare at each other for a long moment.

"Welcome ladies and gentleman. What can I get started for you?" Their waiter approached, standing before their table, interrupting the exchange.

Jasmine and Alessandra order champagne. Cristiano decides on wine and Sammy starts by saying, "I'll have a marti–."

He's suddenly cut off by a sharp kick to his leg. Stiffening, he smoothes his tie and straightens his posture, clearing his throat. "I'll have a vodka on the rocks."

His posh British accent was perfectly on point. Jasmine sighed in relief, crossing her legs at the ankles beneath the table again.

"Strong choice for a drink." Cristiano notes with a raised eyebrow assessing Sammy.

"Yes, well, I can handle alcohol like a professional. Wine is. . .how should I put it–" He pretends to ponder it for a moment. "–Wine is too soft for my taste."

The verbal blow hit its target. For a moment, Jasmine froze, the color draining from her face. Cristiano's stare homed in on her. His penetrating gaze reminded her of the dark night during a rain storm. He locked his gaze on Sammy in the next instant, and his eyes turned to the blackest fire.

"Enlighten me." Cristiano said, grounding his teeth. "I find your words quite insulting." He challenged.

Sammy arched an eyebrow feeling confident, but Jasmine felt like he was playing with fire.

"I meant wine isn't strong enough for a real man. Real men drink hard liquor not something that tastes like juice that's gone bad."

Juice that's gone bad!

In that single moment, Jasmine wished the floor would have cracked open beneath her and swallowed her whole. She understood Sammy was jabbing Cristiano where it hurts. However, Cristinao wasn't the type of man to let things easily slide learning from previous experiences.

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle and poured a glass for Cristiano and placed it on the table while their drinks were served on a tray by another waiter. She caught the label of the bottle. Slightly shaking her head in shame, she was sure Sammy had zero experience or knowledge with wine. The winery from which the bottle came from ranged in the high hundreds. She felt like sinking down into her seat in utter embarrassment.

Sammy sounded like an unintelligent moron.

Cristiano ran a fingertip around the tip of his wine glass slowly. "Earnest Hemingway once said, 'wine is one of the most civilized things in the world'." Cristiano quoted quietly, keeping his voice surprisingly steady despite his glaring eyes directed at Sammy.

Jasmine bristled, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men like a spectator at a match of tennis.

"Tell me, how did you two meet?" Cristiano asked, changing the subject and taking a sip of his wine slowly watching Sammy with a raised eyebrow over the rim.

Jasmine drew a breath and internally she winced, totally unprepared by the question. She and Sammy never went into detail about their backstory of deception. She wondered if Cristiano searched for information.

Shit, she thought. What if he knew their relationship was a farce? Or what if he recognized Sammy from the wedding? Jasmine held her breath and strained to keep her face impassive.

Sammy cleared his throat and settled back in casual ease, crossing one leg over the other like a man at ease. "Jasmine and I have known one another for quite some years. Her sister and husband are very close friends of mine."

Sammy sends Jasmine a secret smile. An indulgent, loving smile. Anyone that didn't know him would believe he was head over heels for her. She felt herself visibly relax. He was really playing the loving fiancé to the hilt.

Sammy continued. "It's not hard to love her. She carries a charm and grace men would die for." For added show, Sammy reaches for her hand and lifts it to his lips for a quick peck on her knuckles.

Jasmine flushed a bright pink.

"I'm one lucky man to have her in my life."

"Charming." Cristaino answered with a tight smile, his eyes narrowing at their intertwined fingers.

His voice was completely indifferent. Jasmine had the urge to snatch her hand away and hide it under the table. But the strong grip Sammy had on her would make it impossible without making it obvious.

"You're both very lucky to have each other." Alessandra added with a soft smile, holding her own champagne glass in a silent salut. "Congratulations."

Jasmine sent her a quick smile and murmured her thanks. She hadn't known the girl for long but could sense the sincerity emitting from her. The she appeared like a nice person–the complete opposite of Cristiano. The big questing was: what was she doing with such a scoundrel of a fiancé? How does she ignore all the attention he receives and his lack of interest in her?

". . . And you work here in England, as well? What was it you do?" Cristiano asked, continuing his interrogation.

Jasmine tensed again. He knew something. She could feel it.

Sammy smiled like a Cheshire Cat.

"I am a psychologist. A doctor." Sammy practically underlined the word 'doctor'.

The way he said it was pompous, egotistic–emphasizing the title deserving respect. For the first time that evening, Jasmine was proud of him for rubbing in Cristiano's face. Sammy deserved to flaunt his years of hard work and Cristiano deserved to feel like shit.

An alarming flare of surprise darkens Cristiano's burning eyes. Jasmine internally sighed, his expression was enough confirmation. He didn't know anything. Yet.

"My line of work allows me to work anywhere I choose." Sammy adds and takes a casual sip of vodka while caressing the skin of her exposed back like a lover would do. Jasmine nearly flinched at the intimate contact but thankfully she held her ground and hid her discomfort behind a strained smile.

The muscle in Cristiano's cheek began to jump, watching them.

"Of course it does." Cristiano managed to say without seeming rude and takes a large gulp of wine.

After they'd ordered, the small party sat facing one another in stony uncomfortable silence. His fiancée Alessandra made a couple of attempts to start up the conversation, but her efforts lead nowhere. The two men eyed each other, looking as if they were ready to do battle at the slightest provocation. Sammy waiting and ready to strike like a cobra while Cristiano measured and calculated the right time to pounce like a lion. The dislike emitting from both men was unsettling causing a thick static entering the air.

The waiter served the starter. Delicate stuffed mushrooms that melted in the mouth and French bread heated to crunchy perfection. The main course was an exquisite filet mignon so tender that the flesh parted at the slightest pressure of the knife. With it they had asparagus with hollandaise sauce, baby potatoes anointed with garlic butter and glazed baby carrots.

The meal became an ordeal, the excellently prepared food tasting like chalk to Jasmine. If any of them noticed her lack of appetite, they were too polite to comment on it. Alessandra and her fake fiancé began flirting endlessly, seeming unaware or completely ignoring the uncomfortable static sizzling around them.