Lion's Den

Lion's Den
Chapter 54: Lion's Den.
Scarlett's POV.
“Uncle, I don't trust you anymore!” I shook my head at him as he explained his excuses. “Scarlett, you are the only family I have; why would I betray you?”
“I knew Logan is rational and doesn't kill women; that was why I didn't take you with me.” He sniffed as he explained. “So, about the clip. Who gave them to you?” I asked, and he went silent for a while.
“It was sent to me anonymously. I didn't know the person, but I am sure it's a trap! They want to make me and Logan enemies!” He exclaimed, clenching his fist angrily.
“I will look into it, Uncle, and don't act rash again.” I said, looking at him suspiciously. I felt he was lying to me, but then I thought he wouldn't risk his life just to provoke Logan.
“Scarlett, you don't trust me anymore?” He asked with his brow furrowed. “How is it easy to trust someone that ditches you after all that?” I responded.
“I am sorry, Scarlett. I am now different, and I will do anything to earn your trust,” he said with a low tone.
“I hope so.” I nodded slightly. “So, what about Logan? Has he forgiven us?” He asked eagerly. “I think so, because if not so, you would have been dead by now.”

Back to Logan's office,
The moment I stepped into Logan's office, the air changed.
It was thick — not with smoke or cologne, but with something heavier. Power. The kind that didn’t need to speak to be heard. I understood why my uncle was so scared to face him. The kind that could crush you with a single look or seduce you just as fast.
The door clicked shut behind me, sealing me inside that world. His world.
The office was dim, lit mostly by the amber glow of a single desk lamp — more mood than utility. Shadows clung to the corners like secrets. The scent of expensive leather and old scotch wrapped around me, warm and sharp. There were no windows, just thick velvet drapes drawn tight, like the room didn’t want to be seen.
The furniture was all dark wood and sharp edges, every piece polished to a shine that dared you to touch it. His chair was massive — too big, too commanding, like a throne dressed as office décor. And behind it, the wall was covered in framed black-and-white photos. Men in suits. Smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. History carved in violence and legacy.
Then I saw him, sitting behind the desk like sin in a tailored suit. Fingers steepled. Watching.
No smile. Just that unreadable look he wore like armor. The kind that made your pulse race for all the wrong reasons.
And still... I didn’t look away. I knew better, but I didn’t.
Because this place — all of it — was a trap. A beautiful one. And some part of me had walked in not to escape, but to be caught.
“Logan—” I called his name with a soft voice, but he didn’t speak. Not at first.
He just watched me with that stillness that made my skin itch and my thighs tighten — like he could see every thought I wasn’t saying, like he already knew exactly how far I’d go. And worse… that I’d enjoy it.
I should’ve been afraid. Any sane woman would’ve been. But instead, my pulse kicked like a warning and a dare. The danger didn’t scare me. It pulled me.
"C'mon, sit," he said finally, nodding to the chair across from him.
That voice — deep, velvet-wrapped gravel — slid down my spine like silk soaked in smoke. I moved before I could think, sinking into the seat, my skirt riding higher than it should’ve. Unlike earlier, I went into the restroom and lifted it before going into his office.
His eyes dropped, slow and shameless, drinking in the curve of my legs like he owned them. Maybe he did like he claimed.
“How did it go?” Logan asked, folding his hands atop the desk, rings glinting under the lamplight. “He apologized, and he vowed not to act rash again.” I replied, crossing my legs, making my skirt lift, and he nodded at me.
“You should wait here; my driver will come take you home soon.” He said he was going back to work. “Hmmmm, Logan?” I called, and he looked at me slightly, with a questioning gaze.
“Thank you so much.” I smiled at him before sitting down. “Come here,” he said with a hand gesture. I stood up and walked towards him seductively.
“This isn't a place for games, Scarlett,” he murmured, staring at forbidden places. I swallowed hard. "Maybe I like dangerous places."
His lips twitched — not quite a smile. More like approval. Or hunger.
"You don’t even know what danger looks like yet," he murmured. “What is it?” I asked, but he pulled me closer instead, placing me on his lap. I blushed hard as he rubbed my back softly. Every movement of his hands made the air feel tighter, heavier. Wicked.
I felt him — heat radiating off his body, the scent of his cologne invading my senses. Warmth ghosted over the back of my neck, and then a single fingertip brushed the side of my throat. I exhaled — too fast, too shaky.
“I've told you to learn how to appreciate,” he muffled, biting my earlobe. “How? I don't—ahhh!” I was saying, but couldn't finish my words as I moaned.
Logan was trailing his hands on my thigh already. “Stop it,” I blushed, slapping his hands away. “Should I teach you instead?” He knitted his brows.
“Fine,” I said, kissing his lips. He kissed me back, and I wanted to pull back, but he didn't let go of my lips as he kissed deeper. I went with the flow until he reached into my panty.
“Take it off, or you won't be able to wear it home,” he murmured. “What?” I gasped. I was shocked, thinking I would only seduce him to tease him until we got back home.
“Right here? Your office.” I shook my head, looking around. “Yeah, what's wrong with it?” He asked softly, teasing my ear.
“I thought you said when we get home?”
“But you don't walk into a lion’s den and ask for a kiss. You get on your knees... and pray he doesn't devour you.” He murmured, getting into my shirt.
“But—” I was talking, but he cut in.
“Will you disobey me, Scarlett?” He asked possessively.
I swallowed hard, wanting to take off my panty, but his phone rang all of a sudden, making him rush out of the office…
“What about me?” I muttered alone in the big office.