20 : The Devil’s Plaything

20 : The Devil’s Plaything
Ellie's POV

Try me.

Adrien stilled for half a second. Then he smirked, the look in his eyes promising something dangerous.

And suddenly, I realized—

I wasn’t sure who was winning anymore.

And worse?

I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape.

Adrien’s POV

Ellie was stiff beside me, her body betraying the storm beneath her carefully neutral expression. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breath, the way she tensed at Lady Blake’s venomous words. She wanted to fight back.

I wanted to see her snap.

I slid my hand lower on her back, my fingers teasing the dip above her ass. She barely flinched, but I knew she felt it.

"Do you want me to prove her wrong, Ellie?" I murmured against her ear.

She turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the defiance in her eyes. "Do what you want, Adrien. You always do."

A smirk played on my lips. "Now, that’s not entirely true."

Before she could argue, I turned to Lady Blake, who was watching with barely concealed irritation. "As much as I enjoy our little games, Blake, you’re beginning to bore me."

Her nostrils flared, but she masked her rage quickly. "We both know you don’t keep your toys for long, Adrien. Let’s see how long this one lasts before she realizes she’s just another name on your list."

Ellie’s fingers twitched at her side. She was close to snapping.

I wanted her to.

I brushed my lips against her temple, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and something uniquely her. "Let’s prove her wrong, shall we?"

Ellie didn’t move, didn’t react—not immediately. But then, she turned, placing a delicate hand on my chest, her nails lightly grazing my suit. Her eyes flickered with something dangerous.

"If I’m just a name on a list, then why does she look so desperate to replace me?" Ellie’s voice was smooth, sharp as a blade.

Lucien coughed behind us, poorly masking his amusement. Lady Blake’s expression darkened.

"Enjoy the evening," I said, my voice final. Then, with my arm still wrapped around Ellie’s waist, I guided her away, feeling the way her breath shuddered when I squeezed just a little too tightly.

She wasn’t unaffected. Not by me.

\-------------------------

The gala was in full swing, expensive wine flowing, conversations dripping with artificial charm. I played the part I always did—the powerful, untouchable billionaire with the world at his feet.

Ellie was the perfect companion, her hand resting lightly on my arm as I introduced her to people that mattered. Some greeted her with mild curiosity, others with skepticism.

But then there were the men who looked at her for too long.

A French investor, Jacques Moreau, leaned in a little too closely, his gaze skimming the length of Ellie’s body. "She is exquisite, Adrien. You always had good taste."

Ellie stiffened beside me.

I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. "She’s not for sale, Jacques."

He chuckled. "Pity. If you ever get bored…" His eyes dragged over her again, his meaning clear.

Ellie’s grip on my arm tightened.

I barely refrained from baring my fangs.

\-----------------

By the time we returned to my penthouse, she was silent. Too silent.

I shrugged off my jacket, watching her from across the room. "Say it."

She blinked. "Say what?"

I loosened my tie. "Whatever’s making you glare at me like you want to stab me."

Her nostrils flared. "You let that man talk about me like I was—like I was something he could buy."

I tilted my head, amused. "You think I should’ve ripped out his throat instead?"

Her jaw clenched. "I think you should’ve said something that didn’t make me feel like just another piece in your game."

A slow smirk spread across my lips. "But you are a piece in my game, Ellie."

She took a step closer. "And what game is that?"

I reached for my glass of whiskey, swirling the liquid. "One you’re already losing."

Her hands balled into fists. "You really think I’m that easy to manipulate?"

I set my drink down, crossing the space between us in two steps. She inhaled sharply when I reached out, trailing a finger along the side of her throat. "You already react to me, Ellie. Your body, your breathing, your pulse—I feel it all."

Her breath hitched. "That doesn’t mean I want you."

I chuckled. "No, but it means I own every reaction you give me."

She swallowed hard, but she didn’t step back.

Did she realize what kind of fire she was playing with?

I let my fingers trail down, barely grazing the neckline of her dress. Her heartbeat spiked.

Then, just as quickly, I stepped away.

"Get some rest," I said smoothly. "You’ll need it."

Her eyes narrowed. "For what?"

I smirked. "Tomorrow, we start making your business a reality."

Ellie froze, her lips parting slightly. "You—what?"

I picked up my whiskey again, taking a slow sip.

"The contract states I fund your business. So we’re doing that. Art, fashion—it’s time you start proving you’re worth my investment."

A mix of emotions flickered across her face—shock, suspicion, maybe even a little excitement.

But mostly, she looked wary.

Good. She should be.

Because she had no idea what it really meant to be owned by me.