Chapter 158: Caught with My Pants Down

Chapter 158: Caught with My Pants Down
Basil's POV

Here in my swanky London office, there's a special kind of rush that comes with dancing on the edge of danger—that intoxicating sweet spot where pleasure crashes into power, making every heartbeat feel electric. And right now? I'm savoring every goddamn second.

I'm kicked back in my Italian leather executive chair, tie loosened just enough to breathe without looking like a total slob. Sugar—my insanely talented assistant—is under my desk, pulling double duty in the most literal sense. Her platinum blonde hair spills over my thighs as she works her magic, and I fight the urge to tangle my fingers in it and yank her closer.

"Mr. Peterson," she murmurs between expert strokes, her voice a sultry hum that shoots sparks up my spine, "just got word from Vale."

I let my head tip back, eyes fluttering half-shut. "Keep going... on both fronts," I growl, my voice rough and edged with strain. God, she's a pro at multitasking—it's half the thrill.

Sugar's lips curve into a wicked smile against my skin, the vibration making me grit my teeth. "Isabella Devon's pregnant," she says, timing her words with a teasing rhythm that nearly pushes me over the edge. "Police records confirm Shane Devon and Reed got hauled in for busting into her place."

My eyes snap open. This is huge—way bigger than the fireworks going off below deck. "Pregnant? You're absolutely sure? That's nuclear-level dirt."

She ramps up the pace, her breath hot and deliberate. "One hundred percent. Want me to... verify anything else?" she teases, glancing up with mischief sparkling in her eyes, her tone dripping with playful innuendo.

I grip the armrests harder, a low groan escaping. "Holy shit... don't stop now." The double meaning hangs in the air like a punchline, and we both know it—hell, it's what makes this fun.

Between increasingly erratic rhythms, Sugar adds, "There's more... Shane Devon's... actively... chasing Luna Gray's mom, Brenda." Each word lands with a deliberate flick, cranking the tension until I'm teetering on the brink.

My breath quickens as I process the bombshell. "These high-society assholes really know how to screw everything up. So... Oliver and Gabriel's girls might end up as stepsisters?"

Sugar lets out a breathy laugh that sends shockwaves through me. "If it plays out that way... yeah. Should we cut Oliver some slack on the business side? Let him... blow off some steam?"

I chuckle, deep and throaty. "Small fucking world, huh? Almost too perfect."

Sugar peeks up, mascara a little smudged, lips glistening. "You gonna spill this to Oliver? Or keep it... under wraps?"

The universe has a twisted sense of humor, because right then, my office door bursts open without a knock. Oliver Devon himself struts in, looking sharp in his suit but with dark circles under his eyes screaming "rough night."

"Spill what to me?" he snaps, his voice cutting through the room like a switchblade.

Oh, fuck me sideways.

I bolt upright, shoving my chair back as Sugar ducks lower, out of sight. Oliver freezes in the doorway, eyebrow arched, clocking the whole scene—my rumpled shirt, papers scattered on the floor, and the obvious lump under my desk.

"Looks like I'm interrupting a real important... briefing?" His tone's drier than a desert, laced with sarcasm that grates on my nerves.

I fumble to straighten my tie and button up, grasping for some dignity. "Devon, you look like warmed-over crap. Almost feel bad for you."

Oliver saunters to the center of the room, eyes scanning like he's casing the joint. The corner of his mouth twitches—smug bastard knows exactly what he walked in on.

Sugar finally emerges from under the desk, clothes a bit wrinkled but playing it cool. "Mr. Devon, I was just... grabbing some dropped files when you showed up. Coffee? I was about to get Mr. Peterson a fresh cup."

Oliver pauses for dramatic effect, then hits her with over-the-top politeness. "Thanks. Black, no sugar—ironic, huh?"

Sugar bolts out, cheeks flaming, lipstick smeared like a badge of honor.

I clear my throat, glancing at my watch like that fixes anything. "We were, uh... going over the latest from Vale."

Oliver turns to me, cool as ice. "Clearly, your 'deep dives' are pretty thorough."

Smug prick. It's not like I haven't caught him in a tight spot before, but his holier-than-thou attitude is rich, considering his own messy love life.

Oliver fiddles with his cuffs, already flawless. "I'm here to tell you you'll be running point on operations for a bit. Not my call—straight from your pal Mr. Ashford."

"Oh! Finally, my killer skills get the Ashford stamp of approval?" I sit up straighter, genuinely intrigued. "What about you? Bailing out?"

Oliver lets out a humorless laugh. "Where the hell would I go? Julian's back in Vale, stirring up shit, so someone's gotta clean up his mess here. I need to help Gabriel bury that asshole."

Sugar slips back in with the coffees, eyes glued to the floor, and hightails it out again. Mental note: bonus time, and maybe round two later—strictly professional, of course.

I eye Oliver closely. "Just got some hot intel from Vale. Wanna hear it?"

Oliver shoots back, blunt as ever. "Not my fucking problem."

"Oh, but it is," I push, leaning in.

He frowns. "I said, keep it to yourself. I don't need distractions from stacking cash."

"You always think I'm out to screw you over," I say with mock offense. "But this? You'll love it."

I pause, milking the drama. "Your old man's getting real cozy with Luna's mom. Keep it up, and by the time you ride back a hero, Ashford could be your brother-in-law. Cheers to that, right?"

I skip the pregnancy bomb on purpose—that'd send him racing to Vale, and Gabriel needs him focused here.

Oliver's face cycles through shock, disgust, and a forced grin. "They're basically fossils, and they still can't keep their pants on." He shakes his head. "Meddling in my life while hunting a new wife. Classic."

"Actually, could work out for you," I toss out, totally winging it.

Oliver clenches his jaw, his cool cracking. "If that old prick loves stirring shit so much, he can kiss his happy ending goodbye. If Isabella and I can't sort our mess, neither can he!"