Chapter 59
Emily Windsor's POV
Luke kissed me until my knees went weak, until all I could do was cling to his shoulders and let his overwhelming affection consume me.
I don't know how long it was before he finally pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing hot and ragged.
"Emily..." My name came out as a rough whisper, his dark eyes blazing. "Tonight, you're mine."
He didn't give me a chance to refuse. He swept me up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.
He laid me gently on the plush bed, then knelt on one knee beside it, looking up at me.
It was an almost worshipful posture, and it made my heart tremble.
"You were beautiful today." He lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips, then the back of my hand, my wrist, working his way up.
Everywhere his warm lips touched felt like tiny flames igniting beneath my skin.
The wine-red silk dress I wore—he caught the strap between his teeth and gently pulled it free.
The fabric slipped down smoothly, exposing the curve of my shoulder.
He traced my collarbone, my neck, my earlobe, inch by torturous inch.
It was exquisite torment, slow and seductive, and soon I was melting under the sensual spell he wove around me.
He slipped off my heels, his warm palm wrapping around my ankle as he pressed kisses there, soft and deliberate.
My toes curled. A jolt shot up from the sole of my foot straight up my spine, making my whole body shudder involuntarily.
"Luke..." A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
He looked up, his dark eyes heavy with desire, though his mouth curved in a triumphant smile.
He finally stopped holding back. He leaned over me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
"Say my name," he commanded between kisses, his voice low and rough. "Say it again."
My rational mind ignited completely under his touch, my body betraying every last shred of resistance.
I met his kiss, feeling him claim me inch by devastating inch.
Tonight, he was patient. Like a master craftsman, unhurried and deliberate, he explored every sensitive spot on my body.
With his lips, his tongue, his fingertips, he carried me to the edge again and again—only to pull back just when I was about to break.
He was driving me insane. All I could do was cry and beg beneath him.
"Luke... please..."
"Please what?" He knew exactly what I wanted, his breath scorching against my ear, his voice darkly seductive. "Emily, tell me first—who am I to you?"
That question cut through the haze in my mind like a blade of clarity.
He was demanding a label.
Using pleasure as leverage, forcing me to acknowledge what he was to me.
And God help me—I fell for it completely.
All those doubts, all that evidence, washed away in this moment by his possessive, almost desperate need.
I opened my tear-blurred eyes and looked at him—at that devastatingly handsome face, at the depths in his gaze that roiled only for me.
"You..." I gasped, reaching up to loop my arms around his neck, pressing myself deeper into his embrace. With every ounce of strength I had left, I whispered against his ear, word by deliberate word, "You're my man."
"My boyfriend."
The instant those words left my lips, the last thread of restraint in his eyes snapped.
He let out a low, satisfied growl and stopped holding back, burying himself completely inside me.
That night, we tangled together in wild abandon, taking and giving, as if we were trying to fuse our very souls together.
I lost count of how many times he brought me to the peak. I lost count of how many times I gasped his name in his ear.
All I knew was that when the first light of dawn broke through the windows, I lay in his arms, every muscle aching, while his arm circled me with bruising force—like I was a priceless treasure he'd lost and found again.
I looked at his face, still sharp and striking even in sleep, and my heart was a mess of tenderness and confusion.
'Emily, you're screwed.'
'You just gave your heart to a man who might be the devil himself.'
---
Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting scattered patterns across the white sheets.
I opened my eyes slowly, my body feeling like it had been taken apart and reassembled. Every muscle ached.
Behind me, his chest was solid and warm. One arm was locked around my waist like an iron band, holding me captive against him.
I turned my head slightly to look at Luke's sleeping profile.
Without the cold, sharp edges he wore during the day, he looked almost peaceful in sleep—his brows smooth, his expression unguarded.
Last night's madness and surrender, those burning kisses and ragged confessions, were still seared into my senses.
In the throes of passion, I'd chosen to drown. I'd shoved aside all that cold, damning evidence.
But now it was morning. And with morning came clarity.
I stared at the hand resting on my waist. He wore a simple platinum ring that used to make me feel safe.
Now, I couldn't help but wonder—had this same hand ever signed off on those sinister documents?
The lake in my heart that had just been filled with tenderness began to ripple with doubt again.
I shifted carefully, trying to slip out of bed without waking him. But the moment I moved, his arm tightened.
Luke buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice husky with sleep. "Sleep a little longer."
His breath against my skin was warm and intimate. I froze, not daring to move again.
"I need to go to the office," I said, my voice hoarse as I grasped for an excuse. "There are a lot of details to finalize for the restructuring plan."
He chuckled low in his chest, the vibration traveling through my back. "What's the rush, Miss Windsor?"
He opened his eyes. Those dark depths were perfectly clear in the morning light, reflecting my small image back at me. "I already had Andy send you the contact info for every relevant department head. They're on call 24/7 to support you unconditionally. Victor Group's resources are yours to command."
He said it so casually.
My heart clenched. I couldn't tell if I was touched or terrified.
The more freely he trusted me, the more I felt like a traitor walking a tightrope.
"Thank you," I finally managed.
He seemed to pick up on the shift in my mood. He propped himself up and looked down at me, his thumb brushing lightly across my cheek. "Emily, just do what you want to do. Leave the rest to me."
His gaze was too focused, too tender. I couldn't look away.
Almost against my will, I nodded.
---
Over the next few days, I threw myself completely into work.
Luke gave me extraordinary autonomy. Using his authority, I assembled an elite task force, handpicking members from both Carl's firm and Victor Group's internal roster.
We set up shop in a glass-walled conference room on the floor adjacent to Luke's office—spacious, with sweeping views. It practically became my second home.
I spent every day there in meetings, coordinating with the firm's business analysts, conducting preliminary negotiations with executives at our acquisition targets.
Everything moved forward like clockwork.
Luke didn't interfere with my work. But he made his presence known in other ways.
Every afternoon, without fail, someone delivered an elegant tea service to my desk. When I worked late into the night, he'd appear behind me without a word, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head as he silently reviewed those tedious spreadsheets with me.
It was a strange, intoxicating feeling—part partnership, part devotion.
I almost let myself forget why I'd started down this path in the first place.
That afternoon, just as I wrapped up an international video conference, Carl's call came through.