Clara Morgan and Ethan Windsor spun around to find Sebastian Hartwell standing nearby. Clad in a black designer suit, his obsidian eyes radiated an ominous aura that made the air thicken.
At the sight of Imperial City's most feared tycoon, Ethan instinctively released Clara's wrist.
Sebastian spared Ethan a dismissive glance, lips curling. "And you are?"
Ethan opened his mouth, but no words came.
Yan Wu stepped forward smoothly. "Mr. Hartwell, this is Ethan Windsor, heir to the Windsor Group."
Sebastian's smile held knives, his voice a velvet-covered threat that pierced the air like frost. "May I ask why you're accosting my secretary, Mr. Windsor?"
Ethan finally found his voice. "Ms. Morgan and I are old acquaintances, Mr. Hartwell. We were merely catching up."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. Catching up? He'd seen Ethan's iron grip on Clara's wrist. If looks could kill, Ethan would be bleeding out on the carpet.
Ignoring Ethan, Sebastian ordered Clara, "Let's go, Ms. Morgan."
Clara rubbed her wrist and trailed after him.
Instead of returning to the ballroom, Sebastian guided her to the penthouse presidential suite. Dizziness washed over Clara. "Mr. Hartwell, since the gala's over, I should—"
"Stop."
Clara turned, fidgeting by the living room sofa. Please don't tell me he wants me again. She'd barely recovered from the last time.
Sebastian settled onto the couch, crossing his legs. A cigarette glowed crimson between his slender fingers as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. His obsidian eyes pinned her. "I've decided to dismantle the Windsor Group."
Clara staggered, pain shooting through her heels. "Why, Mr. Hartwell?"
"Because their son put his hands on my secretary."
The truth ran deeper. Sebastian had heard every word of their conversation—Ethan claiming Clara had once loved him. How dare she love another man?
"Whatever misunderstandings existed between Ethan and me are in the past. The Winsors raised me. I can't let you destroy them over—"
"Raised you?" Sebastian crushed his cigarette into a crystal tray, his gaze raking over her. Tears glossed her wide eyes, lashes fluttering like trapped birds. Her lips, soft and parted, stirred a dangerous hunger in him.
"You're begging for their survival?"
A silent whimper escaped her as her body shook. She knew this game.
"Didn't your mother teach you how to plead properly?"
"My parents died young, Mr. Hartwell. They never had the chance." Her words frayed like thread in a storm.
An unfamiliar ache tightened Sebastian's chest. "Then I'll educate you." He leaned forward, predatory. "Show me how badly you want this."
Clara's nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. If I had anyone to shield me… anyone at all…
Sebastian stood abruptly. "Shower. Now."
"Yes, sir."
The moment the bathroom door closed, Sebastian dialed Yan Wu. "Dig into Clara Morgan's past. Everything."
He paused. "And deliver women's sleepwear, undergarments, and casual attire to the suite. Size small. In thirty minutes."
…
Under the scalding spray, Clara braced herself against marble tiles.
The door swung open.
Sebastian stood framed in steam, his eyes dark with intent. "Time for your lesson, Ms. Morgan."
She scrambled backward. "C-could we do this elsewhere?"
"No."
…
Later, Sebastian carried a trembling Clara to the bed. A folded set of lace-trimmed sleepwear lay waiting.
When she reached for it, he pushed her hand aside. "Stay still." Uncapping a salve, he began smoothing it over the bruises marring her hips.
Clara squeezed her eyes shut. This intimacy is worse than the act itself. His fingers were meticulous, clinical—yet each touch seared her skin.
"Mr. Hartwell, I can—"
"Don't move." he growled, salve slipping through his fingers as desire flared again. Since when did a woman reduce him to this?
After dressing her, Sebastian pointed to casual clothes by the bed. "Take tomorrow off. Wear those home."
Clara blinked. Is he…considering my comfort?
"Thank you, Mr. Hartwell."
She tilted her face toward him, eyes glistening like dew.
Sebastian gripped her chin. "Say it, Clara. Swear you'll never want Ethan Windsor."
"W-what?"
"Swear it." he roughened his command.
The words tasted like ash. "I'll never want Ethan."
Satisfaction curved Sebastian's mouth.
"Sleep now," he murmured against her lips. "Before I change my mind."