Chapter 51 Lies, Lust, and Leverage
Emilia stretched lazily in the grand suite bed, sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains. The soreness in her neck made her frown, and she absently rubbed the spot. Shrugging it off, she slid out of bed, the plush carpet soft beneath her feet.
Henry was already up, standing by the window with a coffee in hand, his suit jacket draped over a chair. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning," she murmured, eyeing the steam curling from his mug. "Any chance, that coffee is for me?"
"Nope," he said smugly, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
She rolled her eyes and padded to the bathroom. Flicking on the lights, she caught sight of herself in the mirror—and froze. A cluster of deep, purplish marks trailed down her neck. Her breath hitched.
"Henry!" she shrieked, storming back into the room.
Henry barely glanced up, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. "Yes, darling?"
She pointed at her neck. "Care to explain this?"
He leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed. "I believe that would be self-explanatory."
Emilia groaned, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him. He caught it effortlessly. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you keep coming back."
Emilia shook her head, still biting back a smile as she walked over to the dresser, pulling out a soft robe and shrugging it on. As she tied the sash, her gaze flickered back to Henry. He was fully dressed—crisp white shirt, tailored navy suit, and polished shoes. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower, styled effortlessly.
She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you all dressed up?"
Henry took a slow sip of his coffee, then set it down before strolling toward her. He reached out, his fingers brushing over her cheek with that familiar, intoxicating tenderness. His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering.
"I have a meeting," he murmured. "Potential business partner."
Emilia arched a brow. "Anyone I know?"
His jaw tensed slightly. "Chase Blackwood."
She arched a brow, crossing her arms. "Chase Blackwood? That's...unexpected."
Henry's jaw tensed slightly. "His company wants in on a new property I just purchased. They're interested in partnering up," he explained, his voice measured but tight. "I was about to just say no way in hell after all the shit he's done to you—"
She rolled her eyes and cut him off with a sudden, heated kiss, her hands pressing against his chest. His frustration melted instantly as he pulled her closer, his body responding before his thoughts could catch up.
When she pulled back, her breath was warm against his lips. "Henry," she murmured, tracing her fingers along his jawline. "I don't care about Chase. He's ancient history. But if both your companies can benefit from this—if you can create something good for the community—then isn't it worth at least hearing him out?"
Henry studied her, something unreadable flickering in his expression.
"You always do this," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.
She smirked. "Do what?"
"Make me see things differently. Make me want to be better," he admitted, his voice quiet but full of feeling.
Emilia's heart clenched, warmth spreading through her chest.
Henry exhaled a slow breath, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright," he said finally. "I'll hear him out. But if he pulls any bullshit—"
"You'll handle it," she finished for him.
His lips twitched. "Damn right I will."
And just like that, Henry fell a little deeper.
_________________________________________________
The past few days had been a whirlwind for Chase Blackwood. Between back-to-back meetings and restless nights, he'd barely had a moment to think. And yet, his mind never stopped.
Scarlett Evans had been an unexpected distraction. Drinks turned into easy conversation; conversation turned into revelations. Turns out, her so-called happy marriage had been nothing more than a fa?ade. Hallie and Ryder had been together far longer than he'd ever known. Longer than she had known.
He had felt stupid before, but now? Now, he felt like a complete fool.
All this time, he had thought he was the villain—the homewrecker. Guilt had gnawed at him for weeks, but knowing the truth? It made him sick. He'd destroyed something that had already been in pieces. He had lost Emilia for nothing.
His chest tightened at the thought. Two weeks. In another life, they would have been exchanging vows in two damn weeks. He could still picture it—the way she'd look walking toward him, the way her voice would have trembled as she said, I do.
But instead, she was engaged to Henry Kingsley.
His stomach twisted, his jaw clenching as the jealousy burned through him. Henry had everything now. The life Chase should have had. The woman Chase still—
No.
He exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away. It didn't matter. It couldn't matter. He had a promise to keep.
Before he left Scarlett that night, she had made one thing clear—she wanted Ryder and Hallie to pay. Discreetly. Soon. And Chase had agreed. Maybe it was bitterness, maybe it was justice, or maybe he just needed to do something that put the power back in his hands.
His fingers brushed over the flash drive in his pocket. He knew exactly what to do.
But first, his father's deal came first.
The boat cut smoothly through the turquoise waters, the sun gleaming against the rolling waves. As the island came into view, Chase found himself momentarily distracted.
Damn. This place was incredible.
Lush greenery framed pristine white sand, and the private resort loomed in the distance, a stunning fusion of modern luxury and tropical paradise. Stepping off the dock, he walked through the palm-lined pathway leading to the main entrance, his sharp eyes taking in the opulence—the way the architecture blended seamlessly with nature, the way the air smelled crisp, salty, and expensive.
Of course, Henry Kingsley would own something like this.
Inside, the villa's lobby was just as breathtaking—high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean, and a scent of fresh citrus lingering in the air. Chase approached the reception desk, keeping his posture casual, though his mind was anything but relaxed.
The receptionist, a poised young woman with a headset, glanced up with a practiced smile. "Mr. Blackwood?"
"That's me," he confirmed.
"Mr. Kingsley has been expecting you. One moment." She swiftly dialed a number, speaking into the receiver with quiet efficiency. Within seconds, she nodded. "You'll be escorted to one of the private meeting offices. Please follow me."
As Chase walked through the sleek, sunlit corridors, he had to admit—Henry had built something extraordinary here.
Too bad he still hated the guy's guts.
______________________________________________
Roxanne stood in front of the full-length mirror, tilting her head as she examined herself in the sleek black bikini she had just slipped into.
The fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, the high-cut bottoms accentuating her legs, and the top giving just enough lift without trying too hard. She turned to Lily, who was sprawled across the chaise lounge in the dressing area, scrolling through her phone.
"Which one do you think makes me hotter?" Roxanne asked, striking a dramatic pose.Lily barely glanced up.
"Black one. No contest."
Roxanne smirked, admiring her reflection.
"Good choice."
"But,"Lily added, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows, "if you want to entice dumb-dumb, aka Jason, you should go with the hot pink one."
Roxanne froze.
Then, like clockwork, her face turned an alarming shade of red.
"WHAT?"
Lily burst out laughing.
"Oh my God, you're so obvious."
"I—what—no! Absolutely not!"
Roxanne sputtered, grabbing the nearest towel and dramatically draping it over herself like a Victorian maiden scandalized beyond belief.
"I do not want to entice Jason!"Lily cackled, kicking her feet up.
"Mhm. Sure. Then why are you acting like I just accused you of murder?"
"Because you're being ridiculous!" Roxanne huffed, tossing the towel aside.
"Jason is—Jason is... ugh, Jason."
"Yeah, yeah, he's Jason," Lily mimicked.
"And yet, I see the way you get all flustered when he flirts with you."
"I do not get flustered!"Lily arched a brow.
"So you're telling me that last night, when he winked at you across the table, you didn't immediately drop your fork and almost knock over your drink?"Roxanne opened her mouth, then shut it.
"That was a coincidence."
"Right," Lily drawled. "And the fact that you're considering a swimsuit based on how he might react?"Roxanne groaned, covering her face. "I hate you.""No, you love me," Lily said smugly. "And, for the record, I think you'd be good for him."
That made Roxanne pause. She dropped her hands, frowning slightly.
"You do?"Lily shrugged.
"Yeah. He's... a mess, sure. But he's got a good heart. I think he just needs the right person to keep him in check."
She shot Roxanne a knowing look.
"Not that I'm saying it has to be you, of course."
Roxanne crossed her arms.
"Good. Because it's not."
Lily hummed, unconvinced, just as Roxanne's phone buzzed on the counter. She picked it up, glanced at the screen, and immediately grinned.Emilia: Lunch today. Henry's officially meeting you. Be prepared.
"Oh my God," Roxanne gasped, nearly dropping her phone.
"It's happening. Henry is finally meeting me. I need to mentally prepare."
Lily snorted.
"You? What about him? He's about to be blessed with your presence."
"True," Roxanne said, striking a pose before bouncing on her feet.
"But still! This is huge. Huge!"
Lily raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't you technically already meet? I mean, we did stay at his house."
Roxanne shook her head rapidly.
"No—well, yes, we did but we didn't officially talk. Like, 'Oh, you want my best friend? Bro, let's fight."
She threw up her fists dramatically.
Lily burst out laughing.
"Please, for the love of God, do that when you see him."
"I just might," Roxanne grinned.
"Gotta test if he's worthy."Lily rolled her eyes.
"You're so extra.""And proud of it!"
Roxanne twirled, then stopped.
"Wait, you want to come?"
Lily sighed dramatically. "I would, but I already booked a massage. Priorities, babe."
Roxanne clutched her heart. "Betrayal."
"You'll live," Lily said, smirking.
"Now, back to the important stuff—black or hot pink?"Roxanne bit her lip, glancing between the two swimsuits.
Then she groaned.
"Ugh. Fine. Give me the pink one."
Lily whooped. "I knew it!"
"Shut up!"
Roxanne huffed, grabbing the swimsuit and marching toward the dressing room.
"This is not about Jason!"
Lily just grinned.
"Sure, babe. Whatever you say."
_________________________________________________
Ryder pounded on the door, his pulse hammering in his ears. The second it cracked open, he shoved his way inside, his hand encircling Sabrina's throat, his lips crashing against hers.
She gasped but didn't resist—at first. For a fleeting second, she let him take, let him think he had control. Then, just as he kicked the door shut, her fingers curled around his wrist, nails biting into his skin with just enough force to remind him exactly who he was dealing with.
"Easy, pup," she murmured against his lips, her tone smooth as silk yet sharp as a dagger.
His grip faltered, and she seized the moment, twisting out of his hold with an effortless grace that had him swallowing hard. Before he could react, she was across the room, standing by the edge of the bed, watching him with those icy, unreadable eyes.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked, her voice cool, controlled.
Ryder exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. "You know your plan has absolutely gone to shit, right?"
Sabrina tilted her head, a slow smile curving her lips. "Has it really, though, Rye?"
The nickname made his teeth grind. He turned, pacing the room, his frustration boiling over. "My name is going to be ruined in a matter of—"
Before he could finish, Sabrina sauntered toward him, closing the distance with practiced ease. She slid onto his lap, straddling his waist, her fingers tracing over his jaw with a touch both delicate and commanding.
"Rye..." she cooed, brushing her lips against his forehead in a slow, deliberate tease. "You are overthinking. And how do you know I'll let your name get tarnished when that bitch finally gets what's coming to her?"
His hands tightened on her hips, his head dropping against her shoulder. "Yes and no... but I also didn't expect Scarlett to fucking not give me a cent. I wanted her to pity me at least a little."
Sabrina laughed—a low, sultry sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, honey," she purred, threading her fingers through his hair. "You've been screwing Hallie for years. How the fuck did you think this was going to end? Did you really expect Scarlett to sign over a fat divorce settlement with a smile?"
His glare was cold, but she caught the flicker of self-loathing behind it.
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have fucking gotten her pregnant if you hadn't convinced me this stupid plan of yours would work."
Sabrina sighed, slipping off his lap and strolling to the minibar. "Look," she said, pouring herself a drink, "I didn't expect her to keep the child either. She literally said Hollywood and babies don't mix. But apparently, she's more stubborn than I gave her credit for."
She downed the whiskey, the burn settling deep in her chest.
Flashback – One Year Ago
The club was dimly lit, the scent of expensive perfume and liquor saturating the air. Sabrina lounged back against the leather booth, sipping her cocktail as Hallie Rogers leaned in, smirking conspiratorially.
"I've been thinking," Hallie mused, twirling a straw between her fingers. "Maybe it's time I go after Chase again."
Sabrina arched a brow. "Isn't he engaged to that OBGYN? What's her name—Emilia?"
Hallie scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Please. Emilia Everett is nothing but a placeholder until my return."
Sabrina kept her expression neutral, but inside, her blood boiled.
Her cousin.
Hallie had no idea, of course. No one did. After Emilia's mother—Sabrina's aunt—had died, the family ties had withered. They had barely spoken in years.
But that didn't mean Sabrina hadn't watched.
She had seen what Hallie had done. How she had slithered back into Chase's life, manipulating her way between him and Emilia until the engagement crumbled.
And now, it was all unfolding just as Hallie had predicted.
Sabrina took a slow sip of her drink, her lips curving ever so slightly. One day, she thought. One day, you'll regret this.
Present Day
Sabrina set her empty glass down and turned back to Ryder. "Look, I'll help you with money until you're back on your feet. Consider it my thank-you for playing your part in this mess."
Ryder studied her, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And Scarlett? What happens when she finds out everything?"
Sabrina smirked, walking over and straddling him again, her nails tracing over his shoulders. "I'll personally tell her the whole truth when we get back home. But tell me, do you really want her to give you another chance?"
Ryder hesitated. His entire body tensed beneath her, the war raging in his mind.
Scarlett had been his safety net, his security, the one thing that made him feel like he had real status in Hollywood. But love? No. It was never love. And now, he wasn't even sure what he wanted anymore.
Sabrina watched his turmoil unfold, her lips curving with quiet satisfaction. "See?" she whispered, brushing her lips over his ear. "You don't even know what you want. But I do."
She leaned back, her blue eyes gleaming with mischief.
"It's time for Hallie Rogers to finally fall."
Ryder exhaled, the last remnants of his hesitation crumbling.
"Then let's make it happen."
___________________________________________
A few hours later, Emilia moved around the sleek, open kitchen of the suite, humming softly as she prepared lunch. The scent of garlic butter and fresh herbs filled the air, blending perfectly with the ocean breeze wafting in through the open balcony doors.
Today was special. Finally, Henry and her best friend would sit down and meet properly, bridging the gap between their social circles. It was overdue, and she was beyond excited to see them all together in the same space, laughing, talking, belonging.
As she stirred a pot of simmering sauce, a sharp knock echoed through the suite.
Frowning, she glanced at the clock. Henry wasn't due back yet, and her friend always texted before arriving. Wiping her hands on a towel, she made her way to the door.
When she opened it—nothing.
No one was there.
A chill crawled up her spine as she stepped onto the threshold, scanning the empty hallway. The resort was secluded, private, safe. And yet... a heavy, unshakable feeling of being watched crept over her skin, making her stomach twist.
She was about to step out further when her foot nudged something.
Looking down, she noticed a small square cake box sitting neatly on the doorstep. A black ribbon was tied around it, elegant but stark against the pale ivory packaging.
Her brows knitted together in confusion. Carefully, she bent down, lifting the box. There was a small card attached.
My Emilia.
She exhaled through her nose and rolled her eyes. Henry. He was always finding ways to tease her, always dropping sweet little surprises when she least expected them.
With a small shake of her head, she stepped back inside, closing the door and setting the box on the counter.
Pulling out her phone, she snapped a quick photo and sent it to Henry.
"Henry, you shouldn't have, but I appreciate the thought. Will save it for lunch. "
Setting the phone down, she tugged the ribbon loose, the silky fabric slithering between her fingers. The lid lifted with a soft hiss of released air.
Inside, a red velvet cake sat pristine, its frosting impossibly smooth, gleaming under the kitchen light. The rich, sweet scent curled into her nostrils, but something about it felt... wrong.
Her lips twitched. She liked red velvet, but chocolate was her favorite—something Henry knew.
Still, a thoughtful gesture.
And yet... that creeping unease from earlier coiled tighter around her ribs. The fine hairs on her arms prickled, an instinctual whisper of warning.
She swallowed and turned back to her lunch, brushing off the disquiet. She would just thank Henry in person when he arrived.
Little did she know, Henry hadn't sent the cake.
And somewhere beyond the walls of her home, unseen eyes lingered. Watching. Waiting.