Footsteps echoed behind her, and she turned to find Victor, his silhouette filling the hallway. He moved with the grace of a predator, his eyes locked on hers. "Hiding?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
"Regrouping," she said, tilting her chin up. "Big night."
He stopped inches from her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. "You're handling it well," he said, his gaze dropping to her lips. "But I can see it—the fire in you. It's… compelling."
Eva's pulse raced, her body betraying her with a flush of warmth. She stepped closer, closing the distance, her voice a sultry whisper. "Careful, Victor. You might get burned."
His hand found her waist, his touch firm yet restrained, like he was testing her limits. "I'm not afraid of a little heat," he said, his voice rough. "Question is, are you?"
The air between them crackled, thick with desire and danger. Eva's plan screamed for her to pull back, to keep control, but her body had other ideas. She tilted her head, her lips parting slightly, an invitation she hadn't meant to offer. Victor's eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin.
"You're trouble," he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of her jaw. "And I'm starting to like it."
Eva's breath hitched, her hands finding his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. "You have no idea," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of intent and something else—something real. "But you will."
His hand slid lower, resting on her hip, his thumb tracing slow circles through the thin fabric of her dress. "Tell me," he said, his voice a growl. "What's a woman like you really after?"
She met his gaze, her eyes blazing. "Everything," she said, the word a promise and a threat. "And I always get what I want."
Victor's lips curved into a predatory smile, and he pressed himself closer, his body hard against hers. "Good," he said, his voice dripping with hunger. "Because I don't settle for less."
The moment stretched, taut and electric, until a distant laugh from the lounge broke the spell. Victor pulled back, his eyes still locked on hers, a silent promise that this wasn't over. "We'll continue this," he said, his voice low. "Soon."
Eva nodded, her heart pounding as he walked away. She leaned against the wall, her legs shaky, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. She'd wanted to seduce him, to pull him into her web, but the intensity of their encounter had shaken her. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at her—it was too much, too real. And that scared her more than anything.
She returned to the lounge, her composure a fragile mask. Liam and Sophia were there, their heads bent close, their laughter a dagger in her chest. Liam's eyes flicked toward her, narrowing with suspicion, but Sophia's smile was all smug satisfaction. Eva forced herself to smile back, a predator's grin, letting them think they'd won.
But they hadn't. Not yet.
As the night ended, Eva slipped out of the estate, the cool air a balm to her overheated skin. She'd crossed another line tonight, pushed her plan further than she'd intended. Victor was hooked, she could feel it, but the cost was higher than she'd expected. Her heart, the one she'd sworn to lock away, was starting to crack.
In the cab ride home, Eva stared out at the city, her mind racing. She could still feel Victor's hands on her, still hear the hunger in his voice. It was a dangerous game, and she was playing with fire. But she wouldn't stop—not until Liam and Sophia were on their knees, begging for forgiveness they'd never get.
And if her heart burned in the process? So be it.
The city was a restless beast tonight, its pulse thrumming through the streets as Eva stood on her balcony, the cool October air biting at her bare shoulders. She wore only a thin camisole and silk shorts, her body exposed to the elements as if she could purge the heat of Victor's touch from her skin. Three days had passed since the dinner at the Blackwood estate, and her mind was a battlefield—rage at Liam and Sophia warring with the dangerous pull of Victor's gaze, his hands, his voice. She'd meant to wield him as a weapon, but every encounter left her less certain of who was hunting whom.
Her phone buzzed on the glass table behind her, a message from an unknown number. She didn't need to guess who it was. Victor had her details now—she'd made sure of that, slipping her card into his jacket pocket as she'd left the estate, a calculated move masked as flirtation. She opened the message, her pulse quickening.
*"Midnight. The Obsidian Room. Wear red."*
No signature, no pleasantries. Just a command, delivered with the confidence of a man who expected obedience. The Obsidian Room was a private club downtown, exclusive to the city's elite, a place where deals were struck and secrets were traded in shadowed booths. Eva's lips curled into a faint smile. Victor was moving faster than she'd anticipated, and that was both thrilling and terrifying.
She glanced at the clock: 10:47 p.m. Just enough time to transform herself into the woman he couldn't resist. She stepped inside, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, and opened her closet. Her fingers brushed past the emerald dress from the dinner, settling on a crimson gown that clung like a lover's promise. Its plunging back and high slit were brazen, unapologetic, a declaration of intent. She dressed with precision, each movement a ritual to summon the Eva who could face Victor without faltering. Smoky eyeliner, a sweep of scarlet lipstick, and heels sharp enough to draw blood completed the transformation.
As she studied her reflection, a flicker of doubt crept in. Victor wasn't just a means to an end anymore. The way her body had responded to him in that hallway—her breath catching, her skin burning under his touch—had been real, raw, and entirely unplanned. She could lie to herself, call it strategy, but the truth was a splinter in her heart: she wanted him. And that desire was a weakness she couldn't afford.
She pushed the thought away, locking it behind the steel wall of her resolve. Tonight, she'd tighten her grip on Victor, draw him deeper into her orbit. Liam and Sophia would pay, and if her heart bled in the process, it was a price she'd willingly pay.
The Obsidian Room was a labyrinth of velvet and shadow, its air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive perfume. Low, pulsing music thrummed beneath the murmur of voices, and the dim lighting cast everyone in shades of mystery. Eva stepped inside, her crimson gown catching the light like a flame in the dark. Heads turned, but she ignored them, her eyes scanning for Victor.
He was at the far end of the room, seated in a private booth that overlooked the main floor like a throne. He wore a black suit, the fabric tailored to his broad shoulders, his posture relaxed but predatory. A glass of bourbon rested in his hand, and his eyes locked onto her the moment she entered, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made her skin prickle. He didn't smile, didn't beckon. He simply watched, as if daring her to come to him.
Eva moved through the crowd, her hips swaying with a confidence she didn't entirely feel. Every step was a performance, her body a weapon honed to perfection. She reached his booth and slid into the seat across from him, crossing her legs so the slit of her dress revealed a glimpse of thigh. His gaze lingered there, unhurried, before meeting hers.
"You wore red," he said, his voice a low growl that curled around her like smoke. "Good girl."
The words sent a shiver through her, equal parts irritation and heat. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her cleavage subtly emphasized. "I don't do obedience," she said, her tone sharp but playful. "I wore red because it suits me. Not because you asked."
Victor's lips twitched, a flicker of amusement in his otherwise unreadable expression. "Is that so?" He set his glass down, his fingers brushing the rim in a way that felt inexplicably intimate. "Then why are you here, Eva? Dressed like that, looking at me like you want to devour me?"
Her breath caught, but she held his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Maybe I'm curious," she said, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur. "About what happens when a man like you meets a woman who doesn't bow."
He leaned closer, the space between them shrinking until she could feel the warmth of his breath. "Careful," he said, his eyes darkening. "You're playing with forces you don't fully understand."
"Then teach me," she shot back, her voice a challenge. "Show me what I'm up against."