Ravier's POV
What was with this woman? Was she challenging me in the pit of desperation she'd already fallen into? How brazen. Yet so enchanting. Her steady expression held a flicker of unease as she nibbled on the inner corner of her lips.
"Alright, deal!" I chuckled. "I like your ambitions. Try your best to chase all the power you want. As you said, I will trust my judgment that you'll end up screaming my name on my bed, begging me to fuck every inch of you."
"You wasted the opportunity when I offered sex, yet here you are, eager to make me want you the way you do. Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I can't—and don't plan to—see you that way. I'm just treating you like any other employer—my source of power. So, don't try too hard," she scoffed.
"We'll see about that later. I'm curious myself how it feels when those soft, plump lips of yours graze the tip of my cock with pleading eyes."
"Don't forget Mr. Auckland, after this contract is sealed you just own my neck."
"Don't worry. I don't need a sex slave. I want a worthy sex partner, and I'll make you the one."
She glanced away, letting out a low chuckle. Her confidence was creeping back now, unlike when she first offered the contract. She looked steadier, her fidgeting thumb finally still. She was better this way.
I couldn't help but wonder how things had gone this far with her. She wasn't like any other woman I'd been with. This could've been a simple transaction, like always. I could've just accepted her offer and ended it there.
But the way she looked at me—like I was both the predator and the one who could save her—got under my skin. She needed to pick a side. Either fear me or adore me, but I'd damn well prefer the latter.
"And the request about my father?" Her voice softened, almost like a bittersweet-sad melody in my ears. I could tell her father was the thorn in her weaknesses.
I crossed my legs, fingers tangling around my knee, tapping my thumbs, weighing my options.
"Tracking an international fugitive is no easy task, Ms. Shamari. I'll do my best to find him in these three months of our... arrangement."
"And the game?"
I leaned back, trying to keep my focus. "I'll let you know what kind of game it is once you finish the panty vibrator game."
She lowered her gaze, murmuring, her voice almost breaking my resolve. "I—I just want you to make me meet him. I just need to meet him once. That's all."
The desperation in her voice made me pause, and I took a deep breath, trying to stay in control. "Can I ask what you plan to do once you meet him?"
Her eyes met mine, and I could feel the weight of her disdain pressing against me. "I want to ask him something... and—then turn him over to the CIA. On my own," she declared, her voice unwavering.
It was at that moment I realized how much I'd underestimated her. When I did a background check on her, I should've stopped there. But no, my fixation on her—on her neck—had clouded my judgment.
I came back to this city for the arranged marriage—nothing more than a duty. No drama. No attention. I'd finish my task and return to Switzerland quietly without commotion.
So then I calculated every move when I first offered her the contract. I predicted she would reject it, and she did. I never missed a calculation. That was why I gave her the necklace—so I could feel like I had her, a token to redeem my desire.
But I knew my calculation was wrong when she reached out to me on that damn dance floor. And in that moment, I broke every one of my own rules. I let myself get pulled into her game. Into the curve of her beautiful, slender neck. And I was consumed by my desire for her.
Her gaze shifted, confusion flickering as she examined the contract I'd laid out in each game box.
I moved closer, my presence commanding her attention. "I hope we can make this game memorable, Ms. Shamari." My hand extended, a silent challenge, and she took it, firm but wary.
We signed the contract, the act both casual and weighted with intent. She glanced at her watch, a slight frown creasing her brow. The look she shot me was sharp, like she was already planning her exit.
"Sir," she hesitated, "is there anything else I should know? I have my last shift tonight before I resign from The Amethyst."
I shook my head, my tone clipped. "No. That's all for now. Later, Berta will call you about the uniform and the rest of the details."
She nodded, but her eyes darted toward the door, the urgency in her movements unmistakable. The rush of the hour, the long commute to Manhattan—it was clear she was already halfway out the door in her mind.
She rose, turning for the door, her footsteps quick.
"Ms. Shamari," I called out, my voice just a little sharper than before. "Why don't I see you wearing the necklace?"
Her laugh was dry, laced with something almost dismissive. "Are you kidding, sir? Why would I wear a 3-million-dollar necklace on the metro? I'm not foolish enough to flaunt it and attract the wrong attention."
I clicked my tongue in irritation and walked over to the intercom, pressing the hub without a second thought.
"Yes, sir, what do you need?" came the clipped response from Rudolf.
"Prepare Eagle now."
"Where to, sir?"
"To 96 pad."
"Understood, sir. Eagle will be ready in 10 minutes."
Zara's confusion was palpable, her brows furrowing as she watched the exchange.
"You'll take the Eagle from now on when you commute here."
"Eagle?" Her voice held a touch of disbelief.
I nodded, motioning toward the window. "There." I watched her eyes follow my gesture, and the sight of the helicopter outside seemed to freeze her in place.
Her mouth parted, but no words came at first. Then, disbelief crept in, her voice tinged with surprise. "Wait—Mr. Auckland, you really don't have to—"
I walked towards her while she was still in shock about the helicopter, closing the distance between us before she could finish her sentence. She turned her head to face me, and that was when she stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden proximity of my presence.
My hand grabbed her waist, instinctively steadying her before she could regain her balance, pulling her into me with a swift motion.
For a moment, she froze—her breath catching, her pulse thudding against my chest. The air between us felt charged, electric. I hadn't meant to be so close, but now that I was, I didn't want to let go.
I leaned in slightly and smirk. "I own your neck, Ms. Shamari. And I hate it when it's not adorned the way I want it."
Her breath hitched, body stiff against mine, but I could feel her pulse racing, the shock of the moment rippling through her.
"But... it's too much—"
"I do it for me. For my satisfaction. And that's how I treat what belongs to me." My grip tightened slightly, just enough to remind her who was in control here.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, a flicker of something else deep in her gaze. I felt her breath—faster now—filling the space between us. The tension was thick, suffocating in its intensity, but I relished it.
The sound of Rudolf's voice from the intercom broke the moment. "Sir, Eagle's ready."
I let my grip go, stepping back, my gaze lingering on her still-racing pulse, the scent of jasmine clinging to the air between us.
"See you on our first round, Ms. Shamari."
She looked away, annoyance flashing across her face, her movements quick as she grabbed the game boxes and darted for the door.
Her scent lingered, wrapping around me, and for a brief moment, all I could think about was her. Damn it. She had me completely bewitched.