CHAPTER 7
577 Words
The Aftermath: Pleasure & Poison
The night was electric.
Naomi Wells had just destroyed Adrian Blake.
The party at Le Château Rouge was one of the most exclusive Paris had ever seen. The city’s elite, investors, celebrities—all raising their glasses to the woman who had just pulled off the most ruthless takedown in luxury business history.
She felt untouchable.
The champagne, the adrenaline, the music pulsing through her veins… it all led to him.
A tall, dark-haired enigma from the business world. Dante Rossi. Ruthless venture capitalist. A man with as many secrets as she had victories.
And tonight? He was hers.
The s*x was fire—a celebration, a release.
For once, Naomi let herself enjoy it. No business, no mind games. Just pure, raw pleasure.
By 3 a.m., she slipped out of bed, throwing on her silk robe. Time to go home.
And that’s when everything changed.
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The Shadow on Her Couch
Naomi unlocked the door to her penthouse, expecting silence.
Instead, she felt it immediately—someone was there.
She turned, and her breath caught in her throat.
Adrian Blake sat on her couch.
Calm. Relaxed. A glass of her finest whiskey in hand. His expensive suit slightly wrinkled, but his eyes?
Sharp. Cold. And very much alive.
“Miss me?”
Naomi’s pulse spiked.
Adrian was supposed to be ruined. Humiliated. Exiled.
And yet, here he was. In her home. Uninvited. Unbothered.
Slowly, he swirled the whiskey in his glass, smirking. “You didn’t really think I’d go down that easily, did you?”
A Dangerous Mistake
Naomi should have thrown him out.
She should have called security.
She should have done anything but what she was about to do.
But the way Adrian looked at her—like he owned the room, like he still knew every inch of her body— ignited something dark inside her.
Rage. Lust. Power.
She hated him. God, she hated him.
And yet, when he set his glass down, stood up, and closed the space between them, her breath hitched.
“You’re angry,” he murmured, his fingers brushing along the silk of her robe. “I like you like this.”
She should have slapped him. Instead, she grabbed his collar and pulled him in.
The kiss was brutal—all teeth and fury.
He pushed her against the wall, his hands ripping the robe open, exposing bare skin.
“You think you won?” Adrian growled against her throat, his lips trailing lower. “I’m still in your blood, Naomi.”
She bit his lip in response, drawing a hiss from him. “Shut up.”
Then there were no more words. Just heat. Teeth. The sound of silk slipping to the floor.
He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the cold marble of the entryway, his body hot and hard between her thighs.
Naomi dug her nails into his back, leaving marks. Letting him know this was war.
They moved through the penthouse, knocking over a vase, slamming into furniture, desperate, reckless.
On the couch. On the table. Against the window, the Paris skyline witnessing their destruction.
It was filthy. It was wrong. It was inevitable.
And when it was over, when their bodies were tangled, slick with sweat, breathless…
That’s when Adrian leaned in, brushing his lips over her ear, and whispered:
“Now that I’ve had you again… let’s talk about how I’m going to ruin you.”
- Writer
