The balcony doors opened, letting in the scent of morning and the shimmer of sunlight across the water. Selena had set a small table by the pool, a light breakfast and fresh fruit waiting. But her focus was elsewhere—on the game, on Lucien, on the delicate balance of control and desire she maintained over Damien.
Damien followed her, mesmerized. "You really plan all this?" he asked, his voice low.
Selena glanced back at him, eyes sparkling. "Of course," she said, voice smooth, teasing. "Everything… is deliberate. Every move, every glance… every touch."
She picked up a strawberry, dipping it lightly in chocolate, letting the glossy sweetness coat her lips. She leaned toward him, letting him see, letting the light play over her wet hair and glistening skin. "Care to… help me with this?" she murmured, slow, deliberate, letting the words draw him in.
Damien's breath hitched. "Help… how?"
Selena's lips curved in a knowing smile. "With your lips," she whispered, tilting her head, letting him lean closer. He brushed against her, tasting the chocolate and strawberry, and she let her hand drift along his chest, teasing him, igniting desire without surrendering control.
He tried to wrap his arms around her. She let him almost—just enough to feel the heat, the pulse, the hunger—but she slid subtly, deliberately, keeping him on the edge. "Patience, Damian," she murmured, letting a finger trace circles down his arm. "Every touch… every second… earns you more."
His eyes darkened, following her every move. "You… you enjoy this, don't you?" he breathed.
Selena laughed softly, a sultry sound that wrapped around him like velvet. "More than you know. Desire without control… it's meaningless. You have to earn it. And the same goes for Lucien."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward the city below, imagining Lucien's routine, his predictability. She had to be ready—prepared to charm, manipulate, and bend him subtly, while keeping Damien ensnared in her web.
Breakfast finished, she rose from the table, droplets of water sliding over her skin. She walked slowly toward Damien, holding her hair in a sleek ponytail, letting her swimsuit-clad body sway with purpose. Moonlight—or sunlight now—caught the subtle sheen of her damp skin.
"You know what this means…" she said, her voice low, teasing, almost dangerous. She laughed softly, letting the sound curl through the morning air, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Damien's pulse jumped. Desire and anticipation flared inside him, thick and undeniable. Selena's smile widened, and she leaned close, brushing a finger over his chest. "Follow me," she whispered. "The day… the game… it's mine to command."
He didn't hesitate. Every glance, every brush of skin, every teasing word left him entranced, fully captivated, and completely under her control. And Selena? She already saw the pieces moving into place—Damien, Lucien, the city, the opportunities—all bending subtly toward her design.
Selena moved to the wardrobe, running her fingers over the neatly folded clothes. Her mind already raced ahead, replaying the previous night, calculating the steps she would take with Lucien. She selected a sleek, professional outfit—tight enough to hint at her curves, elegant enough to command attention.
Damien leaned against the doorway, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and lingering desire. "You know," he said casually, voice low and teasing, "maybe we don't need any more contracts with Lucien. We're fine without it, right?"
Selena paused, letting the words hang in the air. She slowly turned toward him, a faint smile curling her lips, eyes dark with intent. "Oh, Damian," she said, voice soft but edged with authority, "we need this. He's strong… powerful… the heir to a company we can't ignore. If we want to succeed, we need him."
Her words seemed to settle over him like a spell, both convincing and intoxicating. Without another word, she let the blouse slip from her shoulders, the delicate fabric falling to the floor. She pushed the skirt down slowly, deliberately, letting the soft rustle of silk echo through the suite.
Damien's eyes darkened, his chest tightening with anticipation. He opened his mouth to argue, but Selena held up a finger, silencing him with just a look.
"I'll be back in a moment," she murmured, her voice smooth and confident. "I need… to prepare."
With that, she slipped into the bathroom, letting the warm water cascade over her in the shower. The steam wrapped around her like a veil, masking the sharp glint of calculation in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered to herself, the sound soft but determined. "We need him… and I will make sure he bends to our plans."
Her mind replayed every detail of Lucien's habits, every angle she could exploit. Damien was still entranced, still caught in her web, and soon—very soon—Lucien would be too
The front door clicked shut behind Damien, the sound lingering in the marble hall. Selena watched him slip into his car, the small company he ran a reflection of his ambition—respectable, yes, but far from the kind of power she craved. He gave her a quick glance through the windshield, a faint smirk playing at his lips, before driving away, the engine fading into the morning.
Selena moved to her own car, sliding in with measured calm. She paused for a moment and caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. Confident. Strong. Beautiful. The perfect image she projected to the world. Yet, in the shadows of her eyes, she glimpsed the broken pieces—the pain she carried, the loneliness, the memories that still gnawed at her. She shook her head, letting the moment pass. Carefully, she reapplied her lipstick, sealing the mask back into place. One final glance—steady, composed—and she turned the key, leaving the past behind.
As the engine roared to life, her thoughts sharpened. Damien's world was manageable, predictable—a small empire she could outshine if she wanted. But Lucien… Lucien was different. Powerful, commanding, the kind of CEO whose decisions shaped entire industries. Every word, every move he made held weight. He was the kind of man who demanded attention, respect, and careful calculation—exactly the challenge she craved.
Her mind flicked briefly to her husband. He had influence, yes, but Selena wouldn't accept being overshadowed—not by him, not by Lucien, not by anyone. She wanted everything: the control, the recognition, the ability to bend situations to her will. The thought made her pulse quicken. Every glance, every word, every interaction—she would make sure it worked in her favor.
Merging into traffic, the city unfolding before her like a chessboard, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. Damien could follow her lead. Lucien could be charmed, manipulated, ensnared. And as for her husband? He would learn, sooner or later, that Selena didn't play second fiddle. Not ever