Chapter 14
713 Words
Camille
I never imagined the beginning of Matt and Vivian’s end would be so public.
By the time I got home from Enrique’s penthouse, the video had already gone viral inside the office Slack channels, disguised under folders labeled “Team Motivation” and “Q1 Wins.” I clicked it open, and there they were—Matt and Vivian, standing just outside a high-end boutique, mid-argument. Vivian’s hands flailed as she shouted, and Matt—red-faced and wild-eyed—grabbed her wrist hard enough to make the woman filming gasp.
“You *promised* me!” Vivian hissed in the clip. “You said she was done! That you had her under control!”
Matt spat back, “You screwed everything up! You were supposed to *handle* her!”
The video cut off as mall security approached. But it was enough.
Enough to prove everything I’d been hinting at. Enough to light a fire under HR and ignite a fuse under every executive who’d been quietly watching Vivian climb her way up the ladder on stilettos and lies.
I leaned back against the couch, heart racing. A wicked satisfaction unfurled inside me. Not because they were unraveling—but because they had done it to themselves.
The wolves were coming. And for once, I wasn’t the prey.
---
I arrived at work the next morning dressed like victory: a bone-white power suit, gold earrings, red bottom heels, and a nude gloss that glistened like glass. I didn’t have to say a word. Eyes followed me down the hall. Whispers clung to corners like perfume.
Vivian wasn’t in her office.
HR had already made their move.
Matt was still pretending nothing had happened. But the look he gave me—tight-lipped and boiling just beneath the surface—told me he knew I had everything to do with it.
Too bad for him, I wasn’t scared anymore.
---
Later that night, I returned to Enrique’s penthouse, both of us needing release in more ways than one.
The second he closed the door behind me, I was in his arms.
His mouth claimed mine fiercely, like he’d waited all day. My blazer hit the floor, followed by my blouse, heels, bra. He scooped me into his arms, carried me to his bedroom like I weighed nothing. His lips moved down my neck, over the curve of my chest, until I was trembling beneath him.
“You taste like war and honey,” he growled, his voice thick with need.
I gasped as his hands gripped my thighs, spreading me open for him.
“I don’t want gentle tonight,” I whispered. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
A low sound escaped his throat—half growl, half prayer.
And he gave me what I asked for.
He devoured every inch of me, slow and then fast, building me up until I was shaking, crying out his name like it was the only truth I knew. When he finally took me, it was raw. Unapologetic. His fingers laced through mine, our hips meeting in a rhythm that stole the breath from my lungs. I clung to him, nails scraping down his back, marking him the way he’d marked me.
He made love like he was claiming territory. Like my body was a battleground and he was determined to win.
When we collapsed together, tangled in sweat and silk, he held me tighter than ever before.
“You scare me sometimes,” he murmured against my temple.
I turned my head. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never wanted anything this much. And I’m not used to wanting something I can’t control.”
I looked up at him, heart pounding. “Then don’t try to control it. Just *feel* it.”
He smiled, slow and dangerous. “You might be the one thing that ruins me, Camille Rivera.”
I traced the edge of his jaw, then whispered, “No. I might be the one thing that *saves* you.”
---
The next morning, I woke up to a single message.
**Unknown Number:**
> I warned you. Now it begins.
Attached was a photo of me leaving Enrique’s penthouse.
And this time… the camera angle said it wasn’t Matt.
It was Vivian.
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- Writer
