Chapter 39: Seduction is war.

Chapter 39: Seduction is war.
The private jet touched down just after midnight. No lights. No fanfare. No one to welcome her except a man in a tuxedo holding a black envelope with a red wax seal.
"Miss Hart. You've been expected."
Sherry adjusted her dark glasses and stepped off the plane, every nerve lit like a fuse. The night air on the Amalfi Coast tasted like salt and secrets with perfume and wealth and something more dangerous simmering beneath it.
Victoria's private estate loomed in the distance like a palace stitched together from shadows. Its windows flickered with golden light, music floating faintly on the breeze-a masquerade of predators.
Sherry clutched the hidden recording device stitched into the lining of her dress.
Tonight, she wasn't Enzo's lover.
She wasn't her father's daughter.
She was bait. And blade.
And she would play their game until she tore the whole thing apart.
Inside the estate, the ballroom was a sensual fever dream. Velvet masks, gold champagne, skin on display like armour. Billionaires, politicians, and arms dealers-the crowd glowed with opulence and rot.
Victoria stood at the far end of the room in a black gown slit to her hip, a crimson rose pinned between her breasts.
She smiled when she saw Sherry.
Like a lioness spotting a rival pride's cub.
"You came," she purred, gliding forward. "I wasn't sure you would be brave enough."
Sherry didn't flinch. "I'm not here to beg."
Victoria's smile sharpened. "No. You're here to play."
She looped her arm through Sherry's and led her deeper into the crowd.
"See him?" she whispered, nodding toward a tall, silver-haired man in the corner. "Lucian Van Eck. Oil, surveillance, and flesh markets. One of our largest new investors. He has a soft spot for fragile things."
"I'm not fragile."
Victoria leaned in. "Prove it. Seduce him. Find out who else he is funding. And if you fail..."
She dragged a finger along Sherry's collarbone.
"...your prince dies."
Sherry's heart thundered. But her face?
Stone.
She walked toward Lucian like she had been born in heels and hellfire.
The game began with a glance.
A touch.
A slow, calculated dance of bodies too close and too knowing. Lucian's hand slid over her back, fingers cold, eyes hungrier than polite society allowed.
"You're prettier than your photos," he murmured.
"You're bolder than your threats."
He chuckled. "Sharp tongue. I like that."
She leaned close. "What else do you like, Mr. Van Eck?"
"Girls who know when they're not in control."
She smiled. "Then I'm not your type."
Still, she let him guide her upstairs to the suite prepared for them. Every step was a scream in her blood. She could feel the wire against her skin, the recorder hidden in her earring, and the pistol taped to her thigh.
Inside the room, champagne waited.
Lucian poured.
They talked about Blackwood. About Victoria. About a deal already made to ruin Enzo's holdings in Europe.
Sherry sipped slowly, calculating.
Every word he spoke, every name-dropped, and every threat hinted at, I memorized it all.
Until his hand slipped under her dress.
She froze.
"Don't," she said softly.
He smiled. "Then say no."
"I'm not here for that."
"But that's what you cost."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He reached for her throat.
Sherry moved fast.
The pistol was in her hand before he could blink. "Touch me again," she said coldly, "and I will paint this suit with your insides."
Lucian's eyes went wide.
"You're bluffing."
She clicked off the safety.
"Try me."
She didn't shoot.
But she left him unconscious and bleeding.
The recording is still intact.
And her body was shaking from the near aftermath of what could have been the worst night of her life.
She stumbled down the hallway barefoot, heels clutched in one hand, blood on her leg, and fury in her veins.
And then-ms.
Strong, warm arms scooping her off the floor.
She gasped and clawed till she saw his eyes.
"Enzo?"
He didn't speak.
He just carried her out into the night like she was the only thing that could still make him feel human.
They escaped on a private boat just as alarms rang out across the island.
Sherry curled into him, soaked in sweat and adrenaline, the recorder pressed to her chest.
"She made me play," she whispered. "I almost didn't get out."
Enzo brushed the blood from her cheek. "You shouldn't have gone alone."
"I had to."
His jaw clenched. "If he had touched you-"
"He didn't. Because I remembered who I was."
She held up the earring recorder.
"I got it all."
Enzo kissed her hungrily, not forcefully.
Just... gently.
Like he needed to remember she was real.
They docked at a private port just before sunrise. The sky was still gray, the world caught between night and day.
Ethan was already waiting at the edge of the dock. He looked tense and tired like he hadn't slept all night.
"I traced the signals from the estate," he said, his voice low and grim. "But Victoria was ready for you. She sent a second copy of the files you just recorded."
Sherry's chest tightened. "To whom?"
Ethan didn't answer. He simply pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to her.
She pressed play.
Victoria's voice came through the speaker, sharp and smooth.
"You're too late. I gave the evidence to someone else- someone already inside your house."
There was a pause.
"Say hello to the beginning of your end."
Enzo's heart kicked into overdrive. He grabbed the phone and then turned to Ethan. "Call your security team. Tell them to scan every server at Blackwood. Now."
But Ethan didn't move.
Sherry turned to him slowly, her voice barely steady. "Why aren't you calling?"
Ethan's face changed. Not guilty.
Grief.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Then his sleeve shifted, just enough for them to see it-faint ink on his inner wrist.
A red symbol.
The same one that was carved into Victoria's investor ring.
Enzo's voice dropped. Cold and certain. "You were working with her."
Ethan looked up. No lies. No excuses. Just a tired nod.
"For a long time."