CHAPTER FOUR-THREE
LILA
That hum… It felt familiar. It felt like the Red Mask.
I watch him from the shadows, clenching my thighs without meaning to. My clit pulses at the sight of him.
How’s it even fair that I can look at someone and immediately be turned on? He doesn’t even know I’m here, and I’m already wrecked. Shit… I’m down bad for this man, and now I want him even more because I shouldn’t have him. Because of his dark past. Because he might be the enemy.
I stand in the dark, clinging to the corner of the wall, trying to stay hidden.
Just observe. But then our eyes connect.
Through the shadows. Locked across the space between his office and the dim hallway where I’m frozen like a thief caught in the act.
His office is glass. Clear. Exposed. The only thing separating us. One fragile barrier keeps me from him.
How did he know I was here? Can he read my mind? Did he feel my presence like I sense the Red Mask when he is around?
His face is unreadable. Completely blank.
Maybe he doesn’t actually see me. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that we locked eyes.
He sits up straighter, adjusting in his chair, then lifts one hand and curls his finger to come here. A silent command. A dominant one. Not just into the room. To him . He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just waits.
Oh, shit. What do I do? He knows. He has to know I was about to snoop.
A bead of sweat slips down my back. I’m nervous he might fire me. Or worse. If he’s tied to Volkov’s men, he could do more than fire me. He could kidnap me, ship me off to Europe, and no one would ever know.
I slowly step out from the shadows and make my way toward his office, trying to act normal.
His face doesn’t change, but his eyes glow with something forbidden.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and smooth my skirt, doing my best to look put together even though he can see every nervous gesture.
I raise my hand and knock on the glass door before gently pushing it open.
Breathe, Lila.
“What’s the point of having a door when your whole office is completely see-through?” I say awkwardly, trying to crack a joke.
He doesn’t smile. He turns his head toward me. “Lila, why are you up here?” His voice is deep and commanding.
He didn’t call me princess. That alone tells me he is serious. Don’t let him see through you. Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Well… to be honest… I felt bad about how I acted in the closet, and I just wanted to say… I’m… I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.” He motions to me with his finger again. “Come here.”
Oh no… I like where this is going.
I step closer, closing the space between us while he stays perfectly still in his chair.
I stop right in front of him, heart pounding, waiting for his next move.
His fingers drift to his chin, then slowly trace across his lips like he’s deciding what to do with me.
The way his eyes drag down my body and return to mine makes my breath catch.
That single gesture sends a wave of heat through me. Then he rises.
Now we’re face-to-face. So close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
Just mint today. No cigarette. The tension between us is so thick I can almost taste it, just like it was at the club.
The air tightens, heavy with the memory of everything that happened.
Last time, it ended with me saying his name while someone else was inside me.
But maybe this time, it’ll be him. Maybe this time, I’ll scream it while he’s the one making me come undone.
“Tell me the truth.” He closes the distance between us, leaning down until his lips brush my ear, his voice low and sinful. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
He’s irresistible. That much is clear. But what I won’t tolerate is him talking to me like I’m stupid. Yeah. I’m not down with that shit.
“Oh, Kage, you want to know why I’m here?
” I say, voice soaked in seduction as I trace my finger along the edge of his sharp, clean-shaven jawline.
His Adam’s apple bobs. Like swallowing me down suddenly became a challenge.
I trail my fingers down the column of his throat, watching goosebumps rise over his skin like he’s trying and failing to stay unbothered by my touch.
I lean in, letting my lips barely brush his ear. A soft, intentional accident.
“I was just checking,” I whisper, voice playful and lethal, “to see if you were up here being a slut.”
He leans in closer, his mouth at my temple, breath warm and smug. “Why, princess? Are you jealous?”
“Oh, jealous of STDs?” I snort, flashing a dangerous smile. “Not in the slightest.”
There’s no space between us now. I feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine, every breath slow and loaded, like he’s trying not to come undone.
His heart pounds, wild and erratic, just like mine.
Maybe we bring that out in each other. Perhaps it’s attraction or anger.
Or it’s cosmic. Like the planets have aligned, and the universe is holding its breath, waiting to see which one of us will break first.
“Wow. You’re really fired up after work,” he murmurs, a dark chuckle slipping past his lips like his own wicked mind amuses him. “Let me guess… haven’t gotten off in a few days? Leon not doing it for you?”
I narrow my eyes, making no effort to hide how deeply he’s gotten under my skin. “Oh, please. You wish you could add me to your list.” I cross my arms, chin tilted high.
“Princess, I don’t have to fuck you to please you.”
The nerve. The arrogance. And God, the way it makes my thighs press together. Of course, he turns it into a game. Every conversation with him feels like foreplay. And the worst part? Each word makes me want him more.
I let out a dry laugh. “Really, tough guy? You think you’re that good?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. He lifts a brow like he already knows the answer. “I don’t think. I know.” He stands there, unreadable and smug, waiting for my next move.
Shit. My panties are soaked just picturing his mouth between my legs, those hands holding my hips down while he ruins me. I want to slap him. I want to ride him. And I don’t know which urge is stronger.
I freeze, not sure what to say. And of course, he sees it.
“You’re thinking about it.” He grins. That dashing, devastating smile I rarely get to see. “It’s all over your face.”
Of course it is. How could it not?
“No,” I snap, glaring at him. “I was just wondering how many women are waiting for you at home. So maybe don’t worry about whether I’m getting off.”
I turn on my heel to leave, waiting to wake up from this dream, when his hand catches the fabric of my blazer, his fingers curling around it and stopping me in place.
“Please don’t.” His voice is quiet, almost pleading.
I look back at him, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He isn’t smirking. He isn’t playing games. He’s just standing there, eyes cast down, like he’s afraid of what happens if I walk away.
“Don’t leave,” he says again, barely above a whisper.
This is a terrible idea. You’re going to end up heartbroken again.
But I don’t move. He reaches for me, gently, and leads me to his desk.
With one hand, he slides the keyboard and mouse aside, clearing the space like he’s making room for something more than just my body. Like he’s making room for a moment he doesn’t want to forget.
His gaze shifts from the marble floor to my eyes, and something behind them feels pained. “Can I… can I touch you?” he asks, almost quietly.
I blink. “Why do you always ask permission?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I don’t touch what doesn’t want me to.” His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “So… yes, you want me to touch you, or no?”
Something in me cracks open. The way he says it. It’s more than just consent. It feels connected to his past, the one Beck warned me about. The one that’s left scars, I haven’t yet seen. This moment feels heavier than it should. Sad. Personal.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He smirks. “Yes, what?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. You just wanted me to say it out loud.”
I cross my arms, trying to look annoyed, but I can’t help the full smile that breaks across my face. And then he smiles too. Not his usual cocky grin. A real smile. Soft and fleeting. Like it snuck out before he could stop it, and then the unexpected happens.
He laughs. Out loud. And it’s music to my ears. Beautiful. Raw. Real. A sound I’ve never heard from him before. I watch something shift in his eyes, like a weight he’s been carrying just lifted, even if only for a second.
God. I made him laugh. And now I want to make him laugh forever.
He steps closer, still smiling, and wraps his arms around me, lifts me like I weigh nothing, then sets me gently on top of his desk, his hands lingering just long enough to make me forget how to breathe.
“If you must know…” His voice lowers, warm and intimate. “I’ve never done anything in this office with anyone. This is a first for me.”
My heart swells. Not from lust, but from something more profound. Because it feels like a secret, like he’s giving me a piece of himself no one else has seen, and in this moment, he doesn’t feel unreachable. Or broken.
Just… human.