13. A Blindfolded Proposition
A Blindfolded Proposition
~HOLMES~
T he moment she stepped into my office, my senses went haywire.
I could smell her before I even heard her behind that door.
The scent was maddening—a layered bouquet of sweetness, warmth, and spice that hit every receptor in my brain like an electric shock. Vanilla, honey, and something deeper, richer, almost musky—like a blend of ripe blackberries and cinnamon.
It’s the kind of scent that lingers, sneaks into your mind, and refuses to let go. An aroma you can’t help but yearn to inhale deeply and express its unique touch to the hairs of your nostrils.
I’d dare to admit how pleasant it would be to smell this every single day.
Then there’s Carter’s scent, faintly mingled with hers, hovering at the edges like smoke curling around a flame.
The combination is enough to make me grip the armrests of my chair, fighting to maintain my composure. I’m not necessarily jealous of his lingering scent on her, which probably means they’ve hugged, kissed, or maybe fucked for all I know, but envious of the idea of him having her first.
As though it’s my responsibility as the leader to enjoy the first taste of something as forbidden and sweet as apricot.
It’s a stark contrast to Victoria, whose sharp, overly floral scent has always repulsed me. Her perfume has the cloying intensity of rotting fruit masked by cheap potpourri, and not even the strongest coffee beans could cleanse my palate after being forced to endure it.
But Elizabeth—this Omega—smells like a temptation I can’t afford to entertain.
Yet here she is, perched on my lap, her curves pressed against me, her every move calculated to provoke a reaction.
And, God help me, it’s working.
“Why doesn’t Abercrombie give Holmes a blowjob as compensation for being an embarrassment among our pack’s company?” Carter’s suggestion pulls me from my thoughts, but not before my breath hitches. He’s joking, surely. The bastard always enjoys pushing boundaries.
My boundaries especially.
“I’ll even record it for blackmail,” Felix adds, his tone dry and infuriatingly amused. I’m completely surprised that Felix not only suggests that but is going along with this sudden fiasco.
Have they both lost their minds?
My grip on this Omega tightens. I’m sure it must be painful, but she doesn’t even flinch with my finger beds digging into her soft flesh.
It’s one thing to endure Carter’s provocations, but Felix’s agreement makes the heat simmering in my veins boil over.
My voice remains steady, though, as I murmur, “Enough.”
But Elizabeth—Abercrombie—has other plans.
“Fine,” Victoria snaps, her voice shrill with indignation. “Do it. Punish her. Prove she’s not the Omega Holmes deserves!”
I feel Elizabeth’s soft laugh reverberate through her chest as she shifts in my lap, her scent growing stronger as she leans closer.
Her voice is sultry, playful as she speaks.
“Such a shame. Despite my rebellious streak, I’m willing to behave...if my Alpha commands it.”
My heart pounds as her fingers trail down the front of my shirt, unbuttoning it with deliberate slowness. She pauses halfway, her touch lingering over the tattoos etched into my skin.
For a moment, I expect her to expose them fully, but instead, she pulls the fabric together, concealing them as if shielding some sort of secret. It’s unexpected, or I dare say merciful of her to do.
Personally, I don’t like anyone seeing my tattoos. Being naked in general since the incident has been a difficult task for me. I don’t mind around Carter and Felix because I trust them. Anyone else, not so much.
Nakedness is a form of vulnerability and weakness I don’t want to portray so easily to the world. I know how cruel it can be when used against you, and I guess I never want such openness to be used against me again.
Never again.
Her whispered words tickle against my lips.
“Tell me what you want, Holmes. Do you want me to stop? Or…” Her tone drops, dripping with mischief. “Would you prefer I help relieve that tension you’re trying so hard to hide?”
My jaw tightens, and I curse the silk blindfold covering my eyes.
This infernal barrier has heightened everything else—her scent, her voice, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. I can’t see her, but my mind is painting vivid pictures of what she might look like, especially when I have the visual of her in that picture from early.
That’s the most dangerous part. Allowing my imagination to lead in lifting my expectations of this Omega to a tempting level of unrealistic wants and needs.
She slides off my lap with a fluid grace that feels almost rehearsed. I hear the faint rustle of fabric as she sinks to her knees, the shift of her weight against the plush carpet beneath my desk.
My senses are sharper than ever, tuned entirely to her movements. I feel her hands rest lightly on my thighs, the heat of her palms seeping through the fabric of my slacks.
“Such a good Omega,” she purrs, her tone attempting to drip with sarcasm but it’s more powerful than that. The sound of her words is laced with something that’s triggering my Alpha instincts to the core. If she can speak so musically beautiful with a slight rumble with that purr, I can only imagine how she moans. “Doing exactly what’s expected of me.”
Her hands glide upward, stopping just at the buckle of my belt.
My breath catches, and for the first time in years, I’m unsure of how to respond. She’s undoing me, one agonizing touch at a time, and I hate how much I want her to continue.
I could tell her to stop. I should tell her to stop . But my silence betrays me.
“Holmes,” Victoria’s voice cuts through the tension, brittle with outrage. “Refuse! Stop this punishment nonsense!”
I lean back in my chair, tilting my head slightly as I release the tension in my shoulders. My voice is steady, low. My fingers move with purpose, unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants.
“Finish what you started.”
The room falls silent, except for the sound of Elizabeth’s soft exhale.
The cool air brushes against my skin, and I grit my teeth, every nerve ending in my body on fire. I can’t see her, but I feel the heat of her breath against me, the feather-light touch of her fingertips as she teases the waistband of my briefs.
“Good,” she murmurs, her voice laced with satisfaction. “Because my father didn’t raise a weak bitch. I’m not one to cower to a challenge or a punishment.”
The first touch of her tongue is a shock to my system, a deliberate flick against the tip of my length that makes my hands clench into fists.
She takes her time, trailing her tongue along the head, tasting me with languid precision. My hips jerk involuntarily, and I curse under my breath, the silk blindfold amplifying every sensation tenfold.
She works slowly, deliberately, as though she’s savoring every moment.
Inch by inch, she takes me into her mouth, her tongue gliding along the underside of my length. The heat of her mouth is exquisite, her movements unhurried and torturous. I can feel every inch of her, every subtle shift of her lips and tongue as she explores me.
In the darkness behind the blindfold, my mind conjures images of her.
I picture her hair tied back, the curve of her lips wrapped around me, the slight hollow of her cheeks as she takes me deeper. I can’t help but imagine her—how she might look, the expression in her eyes as she drives me to the brink.
It’s as if she can read my thoughts.
She pauses, her mouth leaving me with a soft pop that makes me groan. Her voice is soft, teasing, as she speaks.
“Curious about what I look like, Alpha?”
I swallow hard, my voice rough as I reply.
Go along with it because I’d love a descriptive visual.
“Describe yourself.”
She hums, her hands resting lightly on my thighs as she begins.
“Platinum blonde hair, tied up in a messy bun. Blue eyes…bright, but with a bit of an edge, but I switch it up and wear brown or black contacts to match my attire. Skin that’s fair but not pale, with a hint of a sun-kissed glow.” Her fingers trail upward, teasing the sensitive skin just below my navel.
“I’m not tall, but I’ve got long legs and curvy hips. A dancer’s build, toned but soft where it matters.” Her voice dips lower, more intimate. “And tattoos. Lots of them. Illegal, of course. Vivid designs that stretch across my skin, telling stories I’ve never shared aloud.”
That confession sends a shiver through me, making me feel somewhat relatable for the first time in a long while. It’s hard to meet someone who appreciates the work of ink on one’s flesh, especially when they don’t know exactly where those uniquely carved designs are on your body.
Where they’re hidden for good reason.
Her lips brush against me again, a feather-light tease that makes my breath hitch.
“Oh, and my lips?” she continues, her voice tinged with amusement. “A dark red. Had to reapply after a certain someone smudged it earlier.”
Carter’s huff of amusement breaks through the haze, but before he can say anything, Victoria interjects, her tone dripping with disdain.
“Why are you describing yourself like a narcissist?”
Elizabeth’s laugh is soft, yet confident.
“I want to give my Alpha the perfect visual of me before he nuts in my mouth,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone that only makes my cock twitch.
Her voice lowers to a whisper, laced with wicked intent.
“And I want him to wish he could see all of it pooling in the hollow depths of my mouth.”
I feel the air shift, her presence consuming me once more as her hands return to my length. The anticipation is unbearable, and the thought of what’s coming next sends a jolt of heat through my veins.
My cock throbs in response, already painfully hard, and I grit my teeth to keep from reacting further. Then her mouth closes over the head of my length, and my composure shatters like glass.
The first sensation is heat.
Wet, scorching heat that envelops me as her lips glide down, taking me deeper with agonizing slowness. Her mouth is soft and supple, and when her tongue presses against the sensitive underside of my shaft, I can’t help the low groan that escapes me. She moves deliberately, her lips creating a tight seal as she begins to suck, the wet sounds echoing in my heightened hearing like a sinful symphony.
My fingers twitch against the armrests, itching to grab her, to steady myself, but I don’t move.
Not yet.
Her movements are calculated, and deliberate.
She takes me deeper, her throat tightening slightly around my length before pulling back, letting her tongue swirl around the head of my cock. The sensation sends sparks shooting up my spine, and I can feel the sweat gathering at my temples, my breathing uneven.
I’ve experienced this before — countless times, in fact . Omegas eager to please, to prove they could bring me to the edge. Most did it out of pity, their voices dripping with false sweetness as they whispered things like, Poor Alpha, I’m sure you need this more than anyone else. They thought they were saving me, their kindness a balm to the curse of my blindness.
But Abercrombie? She’s different.
There’s no pity here. No pretense.
She isn’t treating me like a fragile Alpha in need of comfort. She’s playing me like a finely tuned instrument, her every movement designed to elicit a reaction.
And fuck, is it working.
She drags her teeth lightly along the foreskin, just enough to make me jerk in surprise, a sharp hiss escaping my lips. She pauses, her tongue darting out to soothe the same spot, and then she hums again, the vibration traveling straight to my core.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, my voice rough with barely restrained need.
She keeps going, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks of her tongue against the sensitive tip. My hearing heightens further, honing in on every lewd sound her mouth makes—the wet slurps, the soft hums of approval, the faint rustle of fabric as she adjusts her position.
It’s maddening.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to stop her.
Her scent is intoxicating, wrapping around me like a drug. Vanilla and honey, with that darker, muskier undertone unique to Omegas on the verge of Heat. It’s driving me insane, clouding my thoughts, and making it impossible to focus on anything other than her.
She’s a definition of perfection I never thought I’d give to an Omega in this lifetime.
I can’t let her have all the control. Not now.
My fingers move before I can think, tangling in her hair to still her. Her soft, damp locks slide easily between my fingers as I grip the back of her head, holding her in place.
She freezes for a moment, and I can feel her sharp inhale against my length.
“You need to learn,” I grunt, my voice rough and breathless, “what a real punishment is all about.”
I don’t give her time to react before I thrust into her mouth, my hips moving with deliberate force. The sound she makes — a muffled gasp of surprise — sends a bolt of satisfaction through me.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not supposed to be.
I set a slow, punishing rhythm, pulling her head toward me as I thrust deeper. Her mouth is stretched around me, her lips soft but unyielding as they slide along my length. Her hands come up to grip my thighs, her nails digging into the fabric of my slacks as she braces herself.
The sensation is overwhelming—the wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue presses against me with each thrust, the occasional scrape of her teeth that sends sparks of pleasure-pain coursing through me.
“Fuck,” I growl, the word guttural and raw.
I know Carter and Felix are still in the room, watching this unfold, but I don’t care. All that matters is the way she feels, the way she moves, the way she takes me. I hear Carter mutter something under his breath, probably some snide comment about my control slipping, but I ignore him.
This isn’t about them.
It’s about her.
About how she’s driving me to the brink without even realizing it.
Her mouth tightens around me, her tongue swirling as she adjusts to the pace I’ve set. My breaths come faster, unevenly, and I can feel the tension coiling in my core, building with each movement.
I’m close. On the brink of relief and I can’t stop myself.
My grip tightens in her hair, holding her still as I slow my thrusts, trying to draw this out just a little longer. I want to savor it—the way she feels, the way she smells, the way she takes every inch of me like she was made for it.
“Good girl,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You’re a good submissive Omega when punished, hmm?”
She hums in response, the sound sending vibrations through my cock, and I nearly lose it then and there.
Fuck, this is too much.
And I don’t want it to end.
The wet heat of her mouth is maddening, and I can feel every inch of her as she slides along my cock, her tongue trailing against the sensitive underside in a way that makes my breath hitch. My fingers tighten in her hair, and I shift my grip, letting my hand slide further until I find the base of her tied bun.
A wicked thought crosses my mind, and I seize the opportunity, grabbing her blonde locks tighter into my hand. The grip steadies her, holds her in place as I guide her motions with deliberate control.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my voice low and rough. “Such a good Omega, using her mouth for something better than shit-talking and empty promises.”
The jab is pointed, and the sharp gasp of insult that escapes Victoria’s lips confirms she understands it perfectly. I smirk, letting the tension simmer before I ease Abercrombie back down my length.
Her pace quickens under my guidance, her lips moving smoothly over me as she takes me deeper. The heat of her mouth, the way she sucks and moans softly around me, it’s enough to make my control slip even further.
“Fuck, I’ve got a thing for blondes,” I admit, my voice dropping as I picture her. “Bet you look hot as hell with your hair tied up and messy.”
Carter chuckles from the side, his voice laced with amusement.
“It’s with my tie, you know. She’s rocking it.”
I let out a low laugh, the sound vibrating through my chest.
“Am I supposed to be jealous?” I ask, the smirk clear in my tone. “When the Omega is sucking my cock like a fucking champ?”
“Guess not,” Felix chimes in, and I can hear the distinct sound of his phone’s camera shutter. “Especially when we’ve got this on tape.”
The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through me, my knot swelling at the base of my length. The sensation is intense, almost too much, and I can’t remember the last time I even reacted enough to knot. But with her? It’s different. The pleasure shifts, sharper and more visceral than I expect, and I feel the tension coiling tightly, ready to snap.
I can’t hold back anymore.
A guttural grunt escapes me as I push myself upright, taking control of the moment. My hips snap forward, driving deeper into her mouth as her muffled moans grow louder. Her throat tightens around me, and I know I’m close — far too close.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, losing myself in the raw, overwhelming sensation.
The climax hits me like a tidal wave, my entire body locking as I release into her mouth. The pressure eases as I pull back slightly, letting some of my cum pool on her tongue. The imaginative sight is enough to make my chest tighten, my breath uneven as I fight to compose myself.
“Carter, Felix,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “Come closer. I want you to see what a good, obedient Omega looks like.”
I’m able to grasp Abercrombie's chin, tilting her head further up, her mouth still open because I didn’t hear her attempt to swallow my offered release. I envision her mouth open and showing off what such a punishment led to.
I’m positive that the sight is filthy, depraved, and utterly intoxicating, making me anxious to look back at the footage and enjoy everything from start to finish.
Have it on repeat all fucking night.
“Now,” I murmur, my tone dark and commanding, “Swallow.”
She does, making it loud and audible, her throat working as she obeys. When she’s done, I’m confident that her gaze flicks up to mine, and the words that leave her lips nearly undo me.
“Yes, Alpha.”
A growl rumbles low in my chest, and I tighten my grip on her chin, tilting her head further upward as I claim her mouth with mine. The kiss is rough, punishing, and entirely possessive.
She responds, her tongue sliding against mine as we lose ourselves in the intensity of the moment.
When I finally pull back, both of us are breathless, our foreheads nearly touching as I let my hand linger against her flushed skin.
“Goddamn,” Carter mutters, his voice rough. “I need a cold shower.”
Felix snorts.
“That was so hot my phone ran out of storage.”
Carter practically chokes on his saliva, at least it sounds that way.
“It better have saved.”
Felix adjusts his glasses from the slight sound of it making the tiny creak noise it does when he fixes the left side. He does that when he’s nervous or turned on enough to attempt to distract himself.
“Relax. I’m sure I can retrieve it from one of the three cameras in here.”
Victoria’s gasp of horror is almost comical.
Truthfully, I forgot she was here for a moment.
Not like I care.
“There are cameras in here?”
“Duh,” Felix replies, sounding unimpressed. “You think we’d be security-less?”
She sputters, trying to regain some composure, and I can feel the shift in the room as she aims to turn this against Abercrombie.
“This is humiliating,” Victoria sneers, her voice sharp. “For her. For all of you.”
Abercrombie doesn’t flinch.
If anything, her confidence only seems to grow from the shift in the atmosphere. I sense her rising up, the feel of the wind her movement triggers gives me a graceful analogy. I can only think she has some sort of defiant or mischievous look in her eye.
“Humiliating?” she repeats, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “I’d do it again if it means grinding Holmes’ gears.”
Fuck.
Don’t go saying that, Abercrombie or I’ll get fucking addicted to this shit.
Her words are like a spark to a fire, and I feel a fresh wave of heat wash over me.
Damn, this Omega might be the end of me—but I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have her. I have to think of how to keep her around.
I huff, dragging my fingers through my hair, still damp with sweat and the aftershocks of Elizabeth Abercrombie’s punishment. Just imagining her kneeling there, her smug confidence radiating off her in waves, and all I want to do is shove her out of the office—out of my life—and yet...
There’s no way I can get her out of my mind after that experience. Not so swiftly.
“I hate your guts,” I say flatly, my voice cutting through the charged air.
I hear a hint of a crack of her neck, which makes me wonder if her sharp gaze snaps to mine, but before she can respond, I smirk, feeling the heaviness of her lingering gaze on me.
At least if my intuition and instincts are right.
“So, what better way to encourage your suffering than to tell you this: if you don’t stick around us for a while, we’ll release the tape.”
Victoria lets out a triumphant laugh, the grating sound stabbing through the tension like a dull knife.
“Thank goodness,” she says, her voice dripping with relief and mocking triumph. “Holmes, it’s about time you came back to your senses. Clearly, you?—”
“Fine.”
The single word is like a whip crack, silencing everyone in the room.
Elizabeth rolls her shoulders and I hear the sound of something I’d think is brushing against skin. I can only assume she’s brushing her knees after kneeling down for such a lengthy time on the carpet. It may be a plush cashmere type, but it would probably still bother her knees with how I was working her.
“What’s a day or two around the douche trinity?”
“Hey!” Carter interjects with mock indignation, pointing a finger at her. “I’m the douche you love.”
Elizabeth sighs dramatically, the sound exaggerated and drawn out, but there’s a flicker of a smirk on her lips.
“Fine,” she mutters, her tone laced with playful irritation. “You’ve managed to carve out a soft spot in my cold heart.”
I’m positive Carter’s grin is from ear to ear, bright enough to lighten the room. He likes to clutch his chest theatrically in times like these, feining some sort of heartbreak or agony that’s obviously a lie. I’m positive this moment is no different.
“Ah, music to my ears. You hear that, Felix? She loves me.”
Felix adjusts his glasses again from the sound of it, and I wonder if his expression is unreadable as always, though I can take a wild guess that he’s amused.
“Don’t get too smug, Carter. You’re still only one-third of the equation.”
“No offense,” Elizabeth says smoothly, “but I still don’t know you. And if I’m going to be stuck with you all for a few days, you could at least tell me where you got those glasses. And if I can get a pair that doesn’t fog up while I’m dancing.”
I can bet Felix is raising an eyebrow her way, his fingers lightly adjusting the frames perched on his nose — again.
“Do you have trouble seeing?”
“Sometimes. My vision doesn’t blur unless I’m stressed or tired, but nighttime driving is a bit of a chore. Astigmatism,” she adds as if it’s an afterthought. I don’t know why I can see her standing in a nonchalant type of pose or even shrugging her shoulders like this is no big deal, despite the topic.
Carter pipes up instantly.
“You should get contacts for that. The prescription kind, not just for a pop of color to match your unique style.”
Elizabeth waves him off which I grasp from the sudden whip of wind that breezes my way.
“Maybe, but I kind of want the glasses.” I can only envision her smiling almost playfully. “That way, I can twin with you.”
Felix hesitates for half a beat before responding.
“I’ll admit,” he says, his voice dry but laced with amusement, “that’s...kind of hot.” There’s a pause. “Stay still,” he adds, stepping forward from the sound of shuffling movement.
That’s a habit Felix does in my presence. Shuffling when he normally walks so quietly, you can barely hear him, especially when he doesn’t want to be noticed in a silent space.
I hear the faint sound of his fingers brushing against the bridge of his nose as he removes his glasses. The shift in air currents tells me he’s leaning toward her, placing the glasses on her face.
Carter whistles low, the sound sharp in the charged silence.
“Damn,” he says. “Felix, at least take a picture. You can’t deprive the world of this masterpiece.”
Elizabeth’s laugh rings out, melodic and effortless. It’s a sound I don’t want to acknowledge, much less admit, but it’s captivating. Even without sight, I can picture her—smirking, glowing, exuding that infectious confidence she wears so well.
“You’re right,” she says, her tone playful. “If I look that good, I totally want a pair now.”
Victoria’s sharp voice cuts through the banter like a knife.
“Hello? I’m still here.”
Elizabeth doesn’t miss a beat, and I’m pretty positive she’s turning to her with a lazy smile.
“And?”
The single word lands with a force that leaves Victoria spluttering in baffled silence.
“Anyway,” Elizabeth says breezily, shifting her attention back to us. “I’ve worked up an appetite. Though I’m no longer thirsty.”
The subtle emphasis on the word “thirsty” is accompanied by the soft, wet sound of her tongue dragging over her lips. Even without seeing it, I can hear the action—the way her lips part just slightly, the faint suction noise that follows.
I grit my teeth, unwilling to let my imagination run wild.
“Let me see what I can find in that uninhabited place you call a kitchen,” she continues, her voice dripping with mockery.
She pauses, and I wonder what she’s going to say.
“Oh, and by the way?” I can tell from her shift of tone she’s directing the next set of words to Victoria. “Your design and decorating skills suck balls. But keep bribing judges with dirt money to get your next award for best interior designer. I’ll whip this place up so it looks like a home.”
Is she actually being serious?
Victoria stammers, clearly taken aback.
“You’re not even the Omega of this place!”
A hum of amusement escapes Elizabeth in response.
“I’m the queen of this castle,” she declares, her voice rich with self-assured arrogance. “And there’s nothing your petty ass can do to stop me from claiming what’s mine. But please, do try. I love a bit of competition.”
There’s a soft smack sound that I can only assume is her pressing her fingers to her lips and blowing an infuriatingly teasing kiss.
“And Holmes,” she says, her tone suddenly lighter, “I’m keeping your tie as a souvenir. Actions have consequences, after all.”
God…
I tense as I hear the faint rustle of fabric—the unmistakable sound of her tying the silk around her neck.
“I’ll make sure to take a photo next time,” she muses, and emphasizes her next word. “Naked.” Fuck… “and put it on your phone screen. That way, whenever some desperate Omega tries to give you their number, they’ll see their competition.”
No fucking way did she just say that…
I’m too stunned to speak.
For a moment, the room is utterly silent.
Then Carter bursts out laughing, his voice booming.
“That’s it. She’s fucking perfect.”
Felix lets out a low whistle, and I can hear the faint smirk in his voice.
“She’s...something, alright.”
Her footsteps echo against the polished floors as she walks off, each click of her heels fading as she disappears down the hall.
Victoria huffs in indignation.
“Unbelievable!” she snaps, storming out with a sharp slam of the door.
The silence she leaves behind is heavy, broken only by Felix’s soft whistle which I know because it’s a far lower pitch than Carter’s.
“Well,” Carter says after a beat, “did we get that recorded?”
Felix adjusts his glasses— he must have retrieved them from Elizabeth before her departure because I hear that creak again —and his tone is smug as he responds.
“Of course.”
“Good,” Carter replies, his voice light with humor. “Because I’m masturbating to that. Now let me go find her. She deserves to be cooked for and finger-fed after that performance.”
He excuses himself, muttering something about not letting Elizabeth eat alone in that “forsaken kitchen” as he departs, making me wonder if the interior design of this place is that "dreadful”.
I guess it looks more luxuriously commercial than livable.
The door shuts softly behind him, leaving just me and Felix in the room.
“So,” Felix says, his tone deceptively casual. “What’s your verdict?”
I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking under the weight of my thoughts.
“I absolutely despise her,” I conclude, the words coming out harsher than I intended. “I don’t want her as an Omega.”
The room falls silent, and I can feel Felix’s stare, heavy and knowing.
When he doesn’t respond, I furrow my brow.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Duplicating the footage,” he says lightly like it’s no big deal.
I know it’s a big fucking deal.
“For blackmail?” I ask, my tone sharp.
“For you,” he replies, his voice maddeningly smug. “When you try to get rid of her, it’ll be nice to use this as the perfect blackmail to make you reconsider.”
He strides toward the door, leaving me alone with his parting words and the weight of what’s just happened.
The game just started…
And I lost.