Chapter 99 Seduction
LUCA
I turned toward the movement on the bed.
And saw her.
Amelia. Stretched across Jeremy's mattress. The silk dressing gown barely covers what it should. Her hair spread across the pillow. Positioned like—
She appeared to be eagerly anticipating his arrival.
Cristo.
I grabbed the blue folders from the filing cabinet. I didn't look at the bed again. Didn't acknowledge what I'd seen.
This wasn't my business. Whatever game they were playing—whatever complicated situation existed between them—I wanted no part of it.
I left the room. Closed the door quietly behind me.
I made my way back to the dining area, where Jeremy was hunched over his laptop.
He looked up. "Got them?"
"Yeah. Here." I handed over the folders. "Boss, I'm not feeling great. I have a headache. Think I'm going to call it a night."
His expression shifted to concern. "You okay? Need anything?"
"No. Just need sleep. I'll be fine by morning."
"Alright. Get some rest. I'll handle security monitoring tonight."
"Thanks, boss."
I left before he could ask more questions. Before I had to explain why I suddenly needed to be anywhere but here.
Because I'd seen what Amelia was planning. And I knew Jeremy well enough to know how it would end.
The question was whether I should warn him. Tell him she was waiting in his bed. Give him the choice to avoid whatever trap she'd set.
But that assumed it was a trap. Assumed she had bad intentions.
Maybe she was just trying to fix things. Trying to reconnect after their fight. She was trying to use the one thing that had always worked between them.
Intimacy.
Or maybe she was manipulating him. Using his weakness for her and taking advantage of the fact that he couldn't think clearly when she was involved with him.
I didn't know. And it wasn't my place to decide.
Whatever happened in that bedroom tonight—that was between them.
I went to my quarters. Closed the door. Tried not to think about what I'd seen.
I also tried to avoid wondering if I should have said something.
JEREMY
I reviewed the supplier contracts for another twenty minutes. Confirmed pricing. Cross-referenced delivery schedules. Made notes on negotiation points for tomorrow's call.
Work. Simple. Straightforward. No emotional complications.
This is in stark contrast to everything else in my life.
Finally, I closed the laptop. I stretched and headed toward my bedroom.
Tomorrow I'll talk to Amelia. Figure out where we stand. Decide if trust could be rebuilt or if the bond was broken beyond repair.
But tonight—tonight I just needed sleep.
I entered my bedroom. I made sure not to turn on the lights. I guided myself by memory to the bathroom.
Shower. Hot water washing away the day's stress. The anger and confusion.
I stood under the spray longer than necessary. I was making an effort to clear my mind. I was trying to figure out what was going to happen next.
Finally got out. Dried off. Brushed my teeth. Put on sleep pants and a t-shirt. Grabbed my robe because the room was cold.
Tied the robe. Ran my hand through damp hair. Tried to decide if I was hungry enough to go back to the kitchen.
Then arms wrapped around me from behind.
A small, soft, familiar hand.
The scent hit me immediately. Amelia's shampoo. That combination is one I'd recognise anywhere.
She was here. In my room. Holding me.
I forced my voice to stay cold. Angry. "What are you doing? You should be in bed. In your room."
"I wanted to see you." Her voice was soft. Almost tentative. "Wanted to apologise. Properly."
"Amelia—" I said sternly.
"Please. Just—let me apologise." Her hands slid around my waist. Held on. "I'm sorry. For lying. For meeting Alex. For not trusting you. For everything."
Part of me wanted to pull away and maintain distance. Stay angry until she understands how badly she has hurt me.
But her touch—God, her touch...
I turned around. I was prepared to inform her that our conversation would take place tomorrow. That I needed space. That this wasn't the time.
And stopped.
She was naked.
Completely. Entirely. Nothing between her skin and the air except—
My brain short-circuited. Every thought I'd had about boundaries and space and processing evaporated.
She was beautiful. She stood in front of me without any shame. Without covering herself. Just—there.
I couldn't look away. Couldn't form words. All I could do was stare.
"Jeremy?" Her voice was quiet. Uncertain. "Are you still angry?"
I tried to answer. Tried to say yes. Tried to maintain some semblance of control.
But I couldn't. Because looking at her—naked and vulnerable and perfect—erased everything else.
The lies. The betrayal. The anger. All of it faded under the weight of want.
She moved. Slowly backward toward the bed. Her hand reached up. Cupped her breast and squeezed them gently.
Blood rushed south so fast I felt lightheaded. My body responded instantly. Hardening. Aching and needing.
I moved before thinking. I crossed the distance between us and reached for her.
My hands found her breasts. It was warm, soft, and perfect.
I lowered my head. Took her nipple into my mouth. Suckled.
She made a sound. Almost triumphant.
I was too far gone to care. The desire to taste her consumed me completely. Touch her. Claim her.
My other hand found her second breast. Cupped it. Squeezed. I worked both simultaneously while she arched into me.
"Jeremy," she breathed. "I missed you. Missed this."
I should stop. Should talk first. Should make sure this wasn't just physical. Should—
Then suddenly her hand slid down my pants. Found me through the robe. Squeezed my dick.
I groaned against her skin.
I gave up any pretence of control.
AMELIA
I felt him surrender. Felt the moment his anger dissolved into need. Felt the shift from resistance to desire.
And I smirked.
Not because I didn't want this moment. Not because the arousal wasn't real. Not because I didn't love him.
But because I'd won. Because my strategy had worked. Because Jeremy Santoro—dangerous, powerful, always-in-control Jeremy—was putty in my hands when I used the right leverage.
His mouth on my breast. His hands were gripping me like I was air, and he was drowning. His body was hard and pressed against mine.
This was power. Real power. The kind that didn't come from money or status or physical strength.
The kind that came from understanding what someone needed and being willing to provide it.
Even if the motivation wasn't pure, it was still genuine. Even if part of me was calculating costs and benefits. Even if the act was as much strategy as intimacy.
I wanted him. Loved him and needed him.
But I also needed what he could provide me: money and resources. And the Insurance against the dangers circling.
And if using my body to obtain those things made me manipulative—so be it.
I'd do what I had to do to survive. To build something that couldn't be taken away. To ensure I'd never be helpless again.
Even if it meant using the man I loved.
Even if it meant becoming someone I wasn't sure I recognised anymore,
The smirk stayed on my lips as Jeremy's mouth worked against my skin.
And I let myself enjoy the pleasure and the power.