The words hit her like a shockwave, stirring memories of Liam's betrayal, Sophia's cruelty. She wanted to resist, to keep her heart locked away, but Victor's gaze was relentless, his body demanding her surrender. "I'm yours," she gasped, the words tearing from her, raw and honest. "F*ck, Victor, I'm yours."
The confession snapped something in him. He kissed her, his lips fierce and desperate, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. Eva felt the coil of pleasure tightening again, her body responding to his, and when she came, it was explosive, her cry muffled against his shoulder as her body shook. Victor followed, his groan a primal sound as he spilled inside her, his body collapsing against hers, heavy and warm.
They lay there, tangled in the crimson silk, their breaths mingling, their bodies slick with sweat. The city's pulse thrummed below, a distant reminder of the world beyond this room. Eva's heart raced, her mind a chaos of desire and doubt. She'd wanted to break Victor, to use him, but this—this was something else, something deeper, and it terrified her.
Victor shifted, propping himself on one elbow, his eyes searching hers. His hand brushed her cheek, gentle in a way that contrasted the ferocity of their coupling. "You're shaking," he said, his voice soft but probing. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
She hesitated, the truth too raw, too dangerous. "You're… more than I expected," she said finally, her voice quiet. "This is more than I planned."
He studied her, his expression unreadable, then leaned down, kissing her softly, a kiss that held more tenderness than she was ready for. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Because I'm not letting you go, Eva. Not now. Not ever."
The words should have scared her, should have reminded her of her plan, her revenge. But they didn't. They felt like a lifeline, a promise she wasn't sure she could trust but wanted to believe. She reached for him, pulling him down, kissing him with a desperation that bordered on pain. "Then don't," she whispered. "Keep me. Break me. I don't care. Just don't let me go."
He groaned, his body stirring against hers, and they moved together again, slower this time, a dance of exploration rather than conquest. His hands were gentle, his lips reverent, and Eva let herself feel it—the connection, the intimacy, the possibility of something real. But as they moved, the ghosts of Liam and Sophia lingered, their betrayal a shadow she couldn't escape.
**Flashback**
Eva stood in her apartment, the night after confronting Liam, her phone clutched in her trembling hand. She'd sent Sophia a final text, a desperate plea for answers: *"Why? Just tell me why."*
Sophia's reply had come hours later, a single line that cut deeper than any blade: *"Because you were always second best, Eva. And I'm done settling."*
_______
The words had shattered her, a confirmation of every insecurity she'd buried. She'd trusted Sophia, loved her like a sister, and this was her reward. The pain had fueled her rage, her resolve, but it also left a wound that wouldn't heal. Victor's touch, his hunger, was a balm, but it couldn't erase the scars.
They lay in the afterglow, the crimson silk tangled around them, the city's lights casting their bodies in a surreal glow. Victor's arm was draped over her, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip, and Eva felt a flicker of peace, a moment of stillness in the storm. But it didn't last. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, a message from an unknown number. She reached for it, her heart sinking as she read the words: *"You think you're winning, Eva? You're just his whore now. Enjoy it while it lasts. —S"*
Sophia. The venom in the message was unmistakable, a reminder of the war Eva was fighting. She deleted it, her jaw tightening, but Victor noticed, his eyes narrowing. "Who was that?" he asked, his voice sharp.
"No one," she lied, forcing a smile. "Just… noise."
He didn't believe her, she could see it in his eyes, but he didn't press. Instead, he pulled her closer, his lips brushing her forehead. "You're safe with me," he said, his voice low. "Whatever's out there, it can't touch you here."
She wanted to believe him, wanted to sink into the safety of his arms, but the message lingered, a poison in her blood. Sophia was watching, plotting, and Eva was far from safe. She kissed Victor, a fierce, desperate kiss, pouring her rage, her fear, her need into it. "Make me forget," she whispered. "Just for tonight."
He did, his body covering hers, their movements a silent vow to drown out the world. But as they moved, Eva knew the truth: there was no forgetting. Liam and Sophia were out there, waiting, and this war was far from over. She'd fight, she'd burn, she'd break—but she wouldn't stop. Not until they were on their knees, begging for mercy she'd never give.
And if Victor was her downfall, she'd drag him into the abyss with her, their flames lighting the way.
******
The Blackwood Enterprises tower loomed over the city like a monolith of glass and ambition, its sleek lines cutting through the morning fog. Eva stepped into the executive floor, her heels clicking against the polished marble, her tailored charcoal blazer and pencil skirt hugging her curves with professional precision. Beneath the crisp exterior, a black lace bra and matching panties whispered rebellion, a secret kept close to her skin. She'd landed the job as Victor's personal assistant—a strategic move orchestrated through a forged resume and a well-placed contact. It was a dangerous play, embedding herself in his world, but proximity was power, and Eva was here to wield it.
The office buzzed with the hum of ambition—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the low murmur of deals being struck. Eva's desk sat just outside Victor's corner office, a glass-walled fortress that offered a view of the city and a glimpse into his domain. She'd been here a week, learning his rhythms, his preferences, the way his eyes lingered on her when he thought she wasn't looking. Every interaction was a tightrope walk, balancing professionalism with the molten tension that had ignited in the Nocturne's suite. Liam and Sophia were still out there, their betrayal a fire in her veins, but Victor was her weapon now, and she'd sharpen him until he cut.
**The Meeting Room**
The boardroom was a cathedral of power, its long mahogany table flanked by leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city's skyline. The morning's strategy meeting was in full swing, a dozen executives in tailored suits debating market projections, their voices a drone of numbers and egos. Victor sat at the head, his presence commanding, his dark eyes scanning the room with the intensity of a predator. Eva was there as his shadow, seated to his right, her tablet open, her pen poised, every inch the diligent assistant. But beneath the table, a different game was unfolding.
She'd felt his gaze on her all morning, a heat that burned through her professional façade. When their eyes met during a lull in the discussion, his lips twitched, a silent challenge that sent a thrill through her. She shifted in her seat, her skirt riding up slightly, and let her foot brush against his calf under the table—a deliberate, fleeting touch that could pass for an accident. His jaw tightened, his fingers pausing on the report in front of him, but he didn't pull away.
Emboldened, Eva let her foot drift higher, the pointed toe of her stiletto tracing the inside of his knee. The room's chatter faded to a distant hum, the world narrowing to the secret space beneath the table. Victor's hand dropped from the report, disappearing under the mahogany, and she felt his fingers graze her ankle, firm and possessive. Her breath hitched, but she kept her eyes on her tablet, her face a mask of professionalism as his touch climbed higher, skimming the sensitive skin behind her knee.