Nicholas watched the video on loop.
It was beautiful. Sinful. Violent.
Alina bent over his desk, face pressed to the glass, eyes wild with hunger. Her moans echoing. His voice commanding. The raw footage—leaked by someone in his security—had now become viral sin.
He’d expected fury.
He got… silence.
Too quiet.
Which meant she was plotting.
Nicholas wasn’t afraid.
He was aroused.
He leaned back, playing the clip again, and pressed his fingers to his lips where she’d kissed him last. She was poison. Pure seduction. And now the whole world had tasted what only he had touched.
Until now.
Alina didn’t hide.
She didn’t explain.
Instead, she walked into the Vallore Gala in a blood-red gown with her bare back exposed and a single slit up her thigh that screamed war.
The crowd turned.
