Tangled in Temptation

CHAPTER6

The next morning dawned with a thick fog clinging to the skyline, casting a soft gray hue across the towering glass buildings. Sebastian was adamant that after the wedding contract was signed, Amelia should move into her penthouse apartment. She just stared out the window. Though elegant, cold, and far too roomy for one individual, it was somehow oppressive.

Painfully slowly, she sipped her black coffee, her eyes still sleep-deprived. Last night's gala left her head spinning—not only from the champagne but also from the understated power plays and lingering glances that spoke more than words ever could.

Henry Westbrook’s unsettling smile. Isabelle’s cryptic comment. And most of all, Sebastian’s constant reminders: “Everyone is watching.”

That phrase hadn’t left her head since.

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen island, dragging her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Sebastian.

Sebastian: Be ready in 45 minutes. Wear formal attire. We have a lunch meeting with the chairman of Delacruz Global.

She blinked—no good morning. No details. Just orders.

Amelia stared at the message a beat longer, her fingers tightening around the phone before setting it down.

He was consistent, at least—always cool, always calculated. But part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that he was testing her in ways that had nothing to do with public appearances.

She had 45 minutes.

Exactly in time, a black luxury SUV pulled up in front of the building. Looking as if he fit on the cover of a financial magazine, Sebastian strode out in a customized navy suit, clean white shirt, no tie—because even his revolt was perfect.

Her navy sheath gown fitting her curves, Amelia slid next to him in the back seat, her high heels clicking gently on the polished floorboard.

"Presentable," he remarked, his eyes flickering and showing little approval.

" I wasn't aware we were meeting royalty," she responded, smoothing her dress. "You could have given me more than a line of text."

Sebastian raised a brow, amusement dancing behind his serious expression. “Royalty would be easier. At least they smile.”

Amelia met his gaze evenly. “Maybe they’re just paid better.”

A silence stretched between them—tense, but not uncomfortable. There was something about their banter, sharp and layered, that made it feel like a duel of equals. Like verbal foreplay, neither one of them acknowledged out loud.

“You’re going to need to be sharper today,” he said after a moment, shifting in his seat. Felix Delacruz doesn’t care about appearances—he reads people like stocks. He'll step back if he feels weakness.

"Then it's a relief I'm not weak," she said coolly.

Sebastian glanced at her for a beat longer than was appropriate. "We will see."

Surrounded by views of the skyline and ivy-dressed walls that created the impression of seclusion, the lunch was at a rooftop eatery in Midtown. A slender man in his sixties' worth of gray hair, sunburned skin, and keen eyes that missed nothing, Felix Delacruz was already seated when they arrived.

Rising to shake Sebastian's hand, Felix greeted him. “And you have to be the new wife about whom I have read so much.”

Amelia handed her hand out and grinned. "Amelia. A pleasure, Mr. Delacruz."

With a chuckle, he said "I hope so" and motioned for them to sit. “This business marriage of yours—half the city thinks it’s brilliant. The other half thinks it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Then they’re all watching,” Sebastian said, cool as ever. “Which works in our favor.”

Amelia turned quickly to see the small edge in his voice. It seemed for a second he was challenging Felix.

The lunch began with polite conversation—industry trends, market shifts, and projections. But Felix wasn’t here for pleasantries. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, just before the main dish came.

"So, Amelia, let me know—what is your function in this marriage?" Are you just the face of a power couple, or do you hold any power?”

It was a baited question. One designed to poke, to test.

Amelia didn’t flinch.

“I’m not a trophy wife if that’s what you’re implying,” she said coolly. I’ve worked under Sebastian for years. I know this company inside out. The marriage may be contractual, but my contribution is very real.

Curious, Felix raised an eyebrow. "And what's your ultimate goal?"

Amelia offered a subtle smile. The same as yours, I imagine—growth, influence, legacy. I simply have enough intelligence to know when to form partnerships aiming toward there.

Sebastian looked at her; the edge of his mouth fluttered slightly. Approval? Amusement? She couldn’t tell. But he didn’t interrupt.

Felix laughed, leaning back. “Well played, Mrs. Hawke. You may just survive this marriage after all.”

The air changed when they got back to the vehicle.

Sebastian stayed silent as the driver pulled himself out of the restaurant, hands folded in his lap, eyes set on the window.

Amelia said at last after regarding him for a moment. "You didn't think I would be able to manage him."

He didn’t look in her direction. "I thought you would hesitate."

“I didn’t.”

“No. You didn’t.”

A pause.

“I meant what I said,” she added. “I’m not just here to smile in photos." If you’re going to use me in this marriage, I’ll use you too. You want a partner? I’ll be that. But I won’t be your puppet.”

His eyes slid toward her, finally meeting hers. There was no amusement now—just something darker, deeper.

He said in a low voice, "Don't mix this arrangement with something it's not. You're not here to use me."

Amelia's heartbeat, but she didn't look. "Then what am I in for, Sebastian? "

The tension buzzed like static. For a long moment, they merely gazed at one another—like enemies battling it out, not wishing to win.

He then bent forward unannounced.

His voice fell to a whisper, nearly grazing her skin. “You’re here because you made a deal with the devil, Amelia. And the thing about the devil—he always collects.”

The words slipped through her skin like silk wrappings and steel lashes. Her breathing caught, but she didn't shift away.

She murmured in reply, "Then perhaps it was time the devil learned he's not the only one who knows how to play dirty."

Their lips were inches apart, and their eyes met. The moment stretched, twisted, simmered.

And just when it felt like the line between business and something far more dangerous might shatter, Sebastian pulled back, the cool mask sliding effortlessly back into place.

“We’re done for today. But next week, we start preparing for the charity gala. It’ll be a bigger stage and higher stakes.”

He turned away again as if the moment had never happened.

But it had.

And Amelia knew—whatever game they were playing, the rules were beginning to change.

And so she was.