The city was a restless pulse beneath Eva's feet as she stood in the penthouse suite of the Elysian Tower, the tallest spire piercing the night sky. The room was a cathedral of glass and steel, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a dizzying view of the sprawling metropolis below, lights flickering like stars in a fallen galaxy. She wore a black lace dress, its intricate patterns barely concealing her skin, the fabric a deliberate provocation that clung to every curve. Her lips were painted a deep burgundy, her eyes shadowed with kohl, transforming her into a vision of danger and desire. Tonight, she wasn't just playing a game—she was rewriting the rules.
Victor had summoned her here, his message arriving at dawn after their incendiary encounter at the Obsidian Room. No pleasantries, no pretense, just an address and a time: *"10 p.m. Elysian Tower. Penthouse. Come alone."* The audacity of it had sparked something primal in her—a mix of defiance and hunger that had kept her awake, her body thrumming with anticipation. She'd spent the day preparing, every choice meticulous: the dress, the scent of jasmine and amber on her pulse points, the stilettos that made her legs look endless. This wasn't just about revenge anymore. It was about power, about claiming what she wanted, no matter the cost.
The elevator ride to the penthouse had been a descent into her own desires, the mirrored walls reflecting a woman she barely recognized. The Eva who'd wept on her apartment floor was gone, replaced by someone sharper, hungrier, forged in betrayal and fire. Liam and Sophia's faces haunted her, their laughter from the video a constant echo, but tonight, she'd drown them out. Tonight, she'd make Victor hers, and through him, she'd dismantle everything Liam held dear.
The penthouse door was ajar when she arrived, a silent invitation. She pushed it open, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The space was vast, minimalist yet opulent, with low lighting that cast long, sensual shadows. A sleek bar lined one wall, a grand piano stood in the corner, and a massive leather sectional dominated the center, facing the city's glittering expanse. The air was heavy with the scent of cedar and spice, and Eva's pulse quickened as she sensed him before she saw him.
Victor emerged from the shadows near the windows, a glass of scotch in his hand, his silhouette sharp against the city's glow. He wore a tailored black shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing corded forearms that spoke of strength and restraint. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and his eyes—those piercing, predatory eyes—locked onto her with an intensity that made her breath catch. He didn't speak, didn't move, just watched her, his gaze stripping her bare in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
"You came," he said finally, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. "I wasn't sure you would."
Eva tilted her chin, her lips curving into a slow, provocative smile. "You don't strike me as a man who doubts himself," she said, her voice smooth but edged with challenge. "Why start now?"
He chuckled, a dark, velvet sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Not doubt," he said, setting his glass on the bar and closing the distance between them. "Curiosity. You're not like the others, Eva. You don't bend. You don't break. I want to know why."
She held his gaze, her heart pounding but her expression cool. "Maybe I'm already broken," she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Maybe I'm just better at hiding it."
Victor stopped inches from her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of scotch on his breath. His eyes searched hers, peeling back layers she'd fought to keep hidden. "No," he said, his voice rough with certainty. "You're not broken. You're burning. And I want to feel the flames."
The words Ignited something in her, a spark that flared into a wildfire. She stepped closer, erasing the space between them, her body brushing against his. "Careful," she murmured, her lips hovering near his jaw, her breath warm against his skin. "You might not like what you find."
His hand found her waist, his fingers digging into the lace of her dress with a possessiveness that made her pulse race. "Oh, I think I will," he said, his voice a growl that promised sin. "The question is, can you handle what I'm about to give you?"
Eva's lips parted, a challenge rising in her chest, but before she could speak, he kissed her. It wasn't gentle, wasn't tentative—it was a claiming, a collision of hunger and power that stole her breath. His lips were firm, demanding, his tongue teasing hers with a skill that left her dizzy. She melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt, her nails scraping his chest through the fabric. The kiss was fire, consuming, and she matched his intensity, her teeth grazing his lower lip, drawing a low groan from deep in his throat.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged. "You're trouble," he said, his voice rough with want. "And I'm done pretending I don't want it."
"Then stop pretending," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire. "Take what you want, Victor. I'm right here."
His eyes darkened, a predator unleashed, and he moved with a speed that caught her off guard. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly onto the bar, the cold marble a shock against her thighs. He stepped between her legs, his body hard and unyielding, and kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Eva's hands roamed his shoulders, his back, her fingers digging into muscle as she pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.
"Eva," he growled against her lips, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the lace of her dress higher. His fingers found the edge of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin beneath, and she gasped, her head falling back. "You're driving me insane."
"Good," she said, her voice a sultry purr. "I want you to lose control. I want you to feel what I feel."
His laugh was dark, dangerous, and he nipped at her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse point. "You don't know what you're asking for," he said, his hands tightening on her hips, pulling her against him so she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal. "But I'm going to show you."
He kissed her neck, his lips and tongue tracing a path of fire down her collarbone, her chest, until he reached the lace that barely covered her breasts. His fingers hooked into the fabric, pulling it down with a slow, deliberate motion that left her exposed. Eva's breath hitched, her body arching toward him, and he took her in his mouth, his tongue swirling over her sensitive skin with a skill that made her moan, the sound raw and unrestrained.
"Victor," she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer. The world narrowed to this moment, this sensation—the heat of his mouth, the roughness of his hands, the way he worshipped her body like it was his to claim. She was drowning in him, and she didn't care.
He pulled back, his eyes blazing with a hunger that mirrored her own. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough. "Say my name."
"Victor," she said, her voice a plea, a command, a surrender. "Don't stop."
He didn't. His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve, every inch of skin, as if committing her to memory. He pushed her dress higher, his fingers slipping beneath her panties, finding her wet and ready. Eva's moan was louder this time, her hips bucking against his hand as he teased her, his touch both torture and salvation. He watched her, his gaze intense, drinking in every reaction, every shudder, as if her pleasure was his drug.
"You're beautiful like this," he said, his voice low and reverent. "Falling apart for me. Let go, Eva. Let me have you."
She wanted to—God, she wanted to—but a flicker of her plan, her purpose, fought through the haze of desire. This was about control, about using Victor to destroy Liam. But as his fingers moved inside her, coaxing her toward the edge, she realized she was losing herself in him, in this moment, in a way she hadn't anticipated. It was too much, too real, and it terrified her.