RUTHLESS DEVOTION: THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

FLAWLESS TRAP

The bite of the needle through raw silk was the only anchor keeping Amilah grounded. It was late and the quiet of her private office felt less like peace and more like the heavy stillness before a thunderstorm. She was meticulously tracking the hem of the high-profile gown she'd been commissioned to design, but her rhythm was completely shot. Every few seconds, her gaze flicked to her phone.

Unblocked. She shouldn't have done it. It was like breaking the glass on a cage containing a predator just to see if it was still awake.

The door clicked open, shattering the quiet. Beryl walked in, her arms swallowed by a massive, breathtaking cascade of midnight-blue orchids and white roses. They were exotic, pristine, and practically radiated the kind of insane wealth that couldn't be bought at a standard shop. They looked less like a gift and more like a statement.

Amilah paused, her needle hovering a millimeter from the fabric. "You bought flowers? What's the occasion?"

"The courier said they are for you," Beryl said, her voice dropping to a gossiping whisper as she carefully angled the heavy arrangement onto the corner of the mahogany desk.

Amilah looked up, her pulse giving a sudden, violent throb. A chaotic spiral of names crossed her mind, maybe an elite client from the gala, or that wealthy, exhausting i***t who had blocked her path at the airport terminal.

"Who is the sender?"

Beryl's fingers slid into the dense petals, pulling out a thick, gold-embossed card. She flipped it over, her brow furrowing.

"There's no name... just a message." Before Amilah could stop her, Beryl read it aloud, her voice echoing in the small room:

"I am feeling lonely, little bird. Are you sure you don't miss me? Because I do."

The air left Amilah's lungs in a sharp gasp. A cold, electric jolt struck her spine. He knows. He didn't just have her number; he had her coordinates. He knew where she breathed, where she worked.

Sprinting out from behind her desk, her chest heaving in sudden, frantic panic, she snatched the card directly from Beryl's fingers. Her eyes scanned the dark, elegant cursive. It was neat, precise, and terrifyingly steady.

"Did someone come here while I was away?" Amilah demanded, her voice tight, a dangerous edge bleeding into her tone. "A man? Tall, handsome... the kind of person who makes the room feel entirely too small?"

Beryl blinked, completely taken aback by her boss's sudden, fierce intensity.

"Are you okay? Look, if a guy like that walked through our front doors, Zaria would still be screaming about him right now. Nobody came. It was just a courier."

Amilah turned her back to Beryl, pacing the small length of the room. She slapped the heavy card against her left palm, her mind a furious whirlpool of defense mechanisms. He wanted to rattle her. He wanted her looking over her shoulder, jumping at shadows, waiting for him to pounce.

Fine. Why not hunt him back.

A slow, wicked smile curled the corners of her lips, her eyes flashing with sudden defiance. He thought he could just buy his way into her thoughts? She would show him exactly how little his wealth mattered to her.

In one smooth, deliberate movement, she marched over to the trash can, shoved the priceless bouquet inside, pulled out her phone, and snapped a crystal-clear photo of the luxury flowers buried under crumpled sketches.

She opened his chat, attached the photo, and typed a single, biting line:

[Amilah]: You have such bad taste. I'm disappointed.

She hit send, a breathless, dangerous chuckle escaping her throat. A thrilling, unexplainable warmth crept into her chest. It was terrifying, yes, but there was an intoxicating rush in realizing she could torment this mystery man right back.

Beryl watched the entire display in horror, thoroughly convinced her boss had lost her mind.

"Are you... are you sure you want to throw those away? They look like they cost more than my rent."

Amilah's eyes widened as the sheer luxury of the orchids hit her. Wait. Why waste beautiful flowers?

"Phew, I almost forgot to take them out!" she lied smoothly, instantly lunging forward to retrieve the pristine bouquet from the bin.

She placed them right back on her desk, leaning down to deeply inhale the rich, heavy fragrance. A genuine, breathless smile crossed her face against her will.

Meanwhile, the luxury Porsche glided through the dark city streets like a phantom. Lowin Vance leaned back against the leather interior, his tailored suit immaculate, his mind entirely relaxed after leaving Jade Houston and Victoria to drown in their own pathetic scandal.

Buzz.

The vibration in his pocket was sharp. Lowin pulled the phone out lazily, expecting a dry corporate brief from Debrin. The moment the contact name Little Bird flashed on the screen, his entire body went completely rigid.

Up front, Mark caught the sudden, sharp shift in the rearview mirror. His hands instantly tightened on the steering wheel, his eyes widening in alert.

Lowin tapped the screen. The image expanded.

The rare, custom-sourced flowers his assistant had practically moved mountains to secure were shoved unceremoniously into a trash can. Beneath it, her text mocked his taste with effortless audacity.

A low, deep, and genuinely amused laugh erupted from Lowin's chest, a sound so rare and vibrant that a cold sweat instantly broke out down Mark's spine. The boss wasn't just smiling, he was thoroughly captivated.

Lowin instantly forwarded the image to his assistant.

[Lowin]: Explain this.

The response from Tom came back within three seconds, the typing bubbles practically vibrating with terror.

[Tom]: I swear they are the best, sir! I chose the most expensive and rare species in the city! Please!

[Lowin]: What am I to do with you, dear assistant?

[Tom]: Spare me, boss.

Lowin slid the phone back into his pocket, a radiant, dark glow settling over his handsome features. He leaned back, softly humming a dark, melodic tune to himself. So she wants to play, he thought, a predatory smirk anchoring on his lips. Then it's time, little bird. He already knew exactly what he was going to scheme next.

The next morning, at the literal break of dawn, Room 412 of the Crescent Hotel was a tomb of suffocating silence. Victoria woke up first, a monstrous, throbbing headache detonating behind her eyes. Wincing, she pressed her fingertips to her temples, massaging the skin with her eyes tightly closed against the sudden wave of nausea.

As her senses slowly returned, a triumphant, wicked smile formed on her lips. She felt a heavy, masculine warmth lying directly next to her in the bed. It worked, she murmured to herself, her heart swelling with victory. The Vance empire is mine.

She stretched her delicate arm out, fumbling in the dark until she switched on the bedside lamp. The harsh golden light cut through the shadows. Smiling, she turned around to wake up the billionaire who would secure her future but her hand froze completely mid-air.

The breath vanished from her lungs. The blood in her veins turned to absolute ice.

This wasn't Lowin Vance.

"Why... why is Jade Houston in my suite?!" she gasped under her breath, her eyes darting wildly around the room. It finally hit her, the layout, the wallpaper, the furniture... this wasn't the luxury penthouse she had booked.

Hysteria took over. Victoria violently threw off the sheets and began raining frantic, furious blows with her delicate fists against Jade's chest. "You son of a b***h! Wake up! You took advantage of me!"

Jade Houston jolted awake from his heavy, drug-induced sleep, groaning as her fists struck his chest. Blinking awake, the terrifying sight of an enraged, disheveled Victoria made him instantly hop out of the bed, his heart racing. He frantically scrambled into his trousers, his hands shaking. "What... what time is it?!"

Victoria collapsed back onto the mattress, crying nonstop, her voice breaking in absolute despair. She thought she had executed the perfect trap, but now her mind was a chaotic void of terror. She didn't even know how to react.

Suddenly, a sharp, loud click echoed from the bedroom door.

Both of them went completely rigid, their breathing stopping instantly. They stared at the door, expecting the worst, but nobody entered. Instead, the faint footsteps echoed out in the hallway, walking away.

Jade's eyes widened. "We need to go. Now. Before the sun rises."

Victoria scrambled up, slipping into her ruined gown. Her hair was a wild bird's nest and her makeup was completely smeared across her face. Clumsily scooping up her designer heels and her purse in her hands, she ran out of the room alongside Jade.

But the moment their feet stepped past the threshold of Room 412, a blinding barrage of high-powered camera flashes exploded in their faces.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The rapid, deafening shutter sounds echoed through the corridor from a distance. Panicked, and humiliated, they turned on their heels, sprinting frantically toward the elevators and slamming the button. The metal doors closed, cutting off the flashes.

Jade Houston let out a feral roar, punching the metal wall of the elevator with his bare fist. "Dammit! How did the reporters even get here?!"

Victoria went completely numb, her body turning rigid as the cold, hard reality crystallized in her mind. There was only one explanation. "Lowin knew..." she whispered, her legs giving out as she slid down to the cold floor of the elevator. "Lowin knew about our plan the entire time."

Jade snapped his head toward her, his face contorted in rage. "You knew?! And you didn't tell me?!"

"I just figured it out right now, the second you mentioned the reporters! We are completely done for, Mr. Houston. We're ruined." Victoria shrieked, tears ruining whatever was left of her face

Jade's mind spiraled into utter chaos. He flashed back to the VIP lounge, how completely calm, still, and patient that tyrant had been while waiting for him. It all made horrifying sense now. They hadn't set a trap, they had walked directly into an execution.

Down the hall, John was absolutely over the moon. He stood near the stairwell, his fingers trembling with pure excitement as he scrolled through the crystal-clear photos on his digital screen. "This is it..." he whispered, a manic laugh escaping him. "The headline of the century. Jade Houston's secret affair with Vance Empire's top model, Victoria Jackson. That anonymous tip just made my entire career."

John turned around to sprint toward the exit, but before he could take a single step, his heavy camera was violently snatched straight out of his arms.

"Nice camera you got here," a smooth, dangerous voice drawled.

John froze, a primitive terror seizing his chest. Standing before him was Debrin Salvatore, emitting an aura so dark and lethal that every instinct in John's body screamed at him to run.

"Th-Thank you," John stammered, his voice cracking.

"John, right?" Debrin asked, a lazy, terrifying smile cutting across his face. "I'm the one who sent you that juicy little anonymous tip last night. But... see, I think I changed my mind."

John's heart dropped. "What?!"

"You know, I don't think it's checkmate just yet,"

Debrin murmured smoothly, his fingers effortlessly popping open the side compartment of the camera. "So, I'll be taking your memory card with me. After our last move is played, I'll give it right back to you."

"U-Uh... I don't understand, sir," John whispered, his eyes glued to the small plastic card in Debrin's hand.

Debrin slid the memory card into his pocket, gently placing the empty camera back into John's trembling hands. He clapped the journalist firmly on the shoulder, his smile widening. "Don't worry, John. I'll give you back your juicy story by the end of the day."

Without waiting for a response, Debrin turned and casually walked away down the corridor. John was left standing completely alone in the hallway, scratching his head in despair. He had literally booked a room next door just to capture this exclusive leak, and now his entire career had just walked away in a designer suit. He felt like crying, his shoulders slumping as he slowly dragged his feet toward the exit.

In the dim shadows of the underground parking lot, Jade Houston was pacing frantically between the concrete pillars, his breath ragged as he tried to find a loophole out of the nightmare.

"Could you stop doing that already?!" Victoria snapped, leaning against a car, her voice dripping with venom. "They already saw us. There is absolutely nothing we can do to fix this. Lowin knows, and trying to fix it will only create a bigger problem."

Jade spun around, his face turning purple with rage. "You got me into this mess! I should have never listened to a single word out of your mouth! The one who is supposed to be ruined right now is Lowin Vance, not me!"

Buzz. Buzz.

Suddenly, both of their phones vibrated violently at the exact same time.

They froze, simultaneously pulling out their devices and opening the incoming message. It was from Lowin Vance. Attached were the exact, high-resolution photos John had just taken outside Room 412. Beneath the images, a single text block read:

[Lowin]: I hope you two enjoyed your night. But I've got to admit, you look rather good together. I won't be releasing these photos to the press if Mr. Houston signs a 50-50 corporate split by noon. If not, this goes live. Choose wisely.

Jade Houston stared at the screen, his knees literally trembling. He couldn't believe it. Signing a financial split meant Lowin Vance would effectively own half of Houston Corporations. The tyrant would sit in every single executive shareholder meeting, control every board vote, and veto every decision his family made.

"Just agree to it!" Victoria pleaded, gripping his arm desperately. "If these photos leak to the media, it will completely taint my modeling career! Please, just sign it!"

Jade looked at her in disbelief, ripping his arm away. Was this crazy woman genuinely thinking about herself right now, when her stupidity was the entire reason they were standing in a parking lot? "There is no way in hell I am signing away half my empire!"

"Think about your reputation and your marriage!" Victoria yelled back, her voice echoing off the concrete. "Whether you sign or don't sign, you still lose the company! You'd much rather lose half to Lowin Vance than lose everything to bankruptcy! If these photos leak, your wife leaves you, the Houston shares plummet to zero, and you're done!"

The mention of his formidable wife hit Jade like a bucket of ice water. His mind spiraled into the bleak reality of his options. His legs gave out, and the proud heir of Houston Corporations slowly squatted down onto the dirty concrete floor, burying his face in his hands. He stayed there for what felt like an eternity, his chest heaving.

Finally, with trembling fingers, he picked up his phone and slowly typed out his surrender.

[Jade Houston]: I agree.

The response from the predator came back instantly.

[Lowin]: Good choice.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, filtering pale light through the entrance of the underground parking lot. Victoria pulled away from Jade, immediately calling her manager to come pick her up. As she waited, a cold wave of conflict washed over her. Why hadn't Lowin demanded anything from her? Why was he letting her off scot-free? Is he planning to permanently terminate my contract with the Vance Empire? She couldn't find a single answer, the silence from his end making her skin crawl.

Minutes later, a luxury sedan pulled up, and Jade Houston's driver stepped out to open the door. Before Jade climbed inside, he turned back to Victoria. His face was a mask of cold, ruthless hatred.

"Never, ever call my number again," Jade hissed, his voice lethal. "Next time you want to play games, go ask your father for help."

The car door slammed shut, and the vehicle tore out of the garage. Victoria scoffed loudly, crossing her arms. "Tsk. After sleeping with me, he still has the guts to talk down to me? Pathetic."

A wicked, scheming smile slowly crept back onto Victoria's face. She opened her messenger application and saved the photo Lowin had sent them directly into her secure, hidden vault. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Houston... it looks like I just hit the jackpot. I have the perfect leverage for when I need your help in the future."

A few minutes later, a silver car screeched to a halt in front of her. Susan, her manager, hopped out, her face as white as a sheet of paper.

"What took you so long?!" Victoria demanded, throwing open the passenger door.

"I... I just got a call from Lowin Vance's executive assistant," Susan whispered, her hands shaking on the steering wheel. "Mr. Vance wants us in his private office at exactly eight o'clock."

Victoria checked her luxury wristwatch. It was 7:00 AM. She had exactly one hour to doll herself up and erase the disaster of last night. A confident, arrogant smirk settled over her features. He might be angry, she thought proudly, but he is still just a man. And no man can refuse a beautiful temptation when I am trying. "Step on it, Susan," Victoria ordered. "Drive me to my apartment."

Concurrently, Lowin's Porsche was gliding through the morning traffic toward the corporate headquarters when his encrypted line rang. It was Debrin.

Lowin tapped the Bluetooth connection. "What's up."

"Did the rat agree?" Debrin's voice chuckled through the speakers.

"He did."

"How are you handling Victoria?"

"I'm meeting her and her manager in an hour," Lowin replied smoothly, his eyes tracking the city skyline. "Her exclusive contract is almost at its end, so I will be renewing it for exactly six months. If she makes a single misstep before those six months are up, the consequences won't just destroy her, they will completely dismantle Java Holdings. I am entirely certain her father, Mr. Jackson, won't appreciate his daughter bankrupting his life's work."

Debrin let out a dark, amused chuckle. "She won't last a single month."

"She might learn to behave if the repercussions are stated clearly to her face," Lowin murmured.

"Anyway, she is a waste of time. See ya, I got to go". Debrin said yawning on the other end.

"See ya ". They ended the call and Lowin rested his head on the leather seat. His mind drifting completely away from the corporate warfare. The image of a discarded bouquet of rare flowers flashed in his mind, followed by her defiant, intoxicating text. You have such bad taste. A sudden, intense urge flared in his chest, burning through his restraint.

"Mark," Lowin commanded, his voice sharp and absolute. "Change of plans. Take me to Amizee Trends."

"Yes, boss," Mark responded instantly. He spun the steering wheel, making a sharp, aggressive turn across the lane, and accelerated toward the fashion boutique.

Amilah had just arrived at her boutique to continue her grueling work on the high-profile gown. She had left incredibly late last night, and her body was still heavy with sleep, her eyes tracing the rich fabric under the soft morning lights.

Today, she wore a striking, high-waisted black official skirt that perfectly framed her curves, paired with a crisp white blouse neatly tucked into her waist. Yawning softly, she walked toward the lounge to brew herself a much-needed cup of coffee. The boutique was completely quiet, as she was exceptionally early, both Beryl and Zaria weren't scheduled to arrive for another hour.

Suddenly, the overhead chime at the main entrance rang softly.

Amilah paused, her hand freezing on the coffee mug. Who could be here this early? Driven by a sudden spike of alertness, she stepped out of the back lounge and walked into the main showroom only to come face-to-face with the towering, devastatingly handsome figure of Lowin Vance.

The air in the room instantly shifted, turning thick and dangerously electric.

Before she could even process his sudden presence, Lowin strode across the polished floor with predatory speed, cutting the distance between them. In one swift, seamless motion, he wrapped his massive, powerful arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard chest, locking her completely within his heavy embrace.

Amilah's breath caught in her throat, her senses instantly overwhelmed as she breathed in the rich, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne.

"W-Why are you here?!" she stammered, her heart doing wild backflips against her ribs.

"Good morning, little bird," Lowin purred, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a violent shiver straight down her spine. "I missed you."

Before a single word of protest could leave her mouth, Lowin leaned down and captured her lips in a hot, deeply intoxicating kiss. It wasn't gentle, it was a possessive, consuming wave that stole the oxygen straight from her lungs. He teased her lower lip, pulling her deeper into the embrace until her knees went completely weak beneath her high skirt, her body turning soft and helpless in his arms.

Amilah pushed her hands firmly against his broad chest, trying to force some distance between them, but he didn't budge an inch. Being held so tight, their waists locked completely together, she could distinctly feel the hard, rigid length of his manhood poking directly against her lower abdomen.

A deep, fiery crimson instantly flushed across Amilah's face, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Lowin let out a dark, deep chuckle at her reaction, his eyes darkening with dangerous amusement.

He leaned his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered in a low, teasing tone, "You miss him, don't you, Amy?"

Hearing him call her Amy, a sudden realization struck her heart like lightning. Since childhood, she had never once had a nickname. Now, within days, this man had given her two, little bird and Amy. and he was the only soul alive allowed to say them.

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, and in her sheer flustered panic, she targeted his massive ego, completely responding without thinking.

"Why would I miss him?" Amilah fired back, her voice shaking but defiant as she looked up into his piercing silver eyes. "He isn't even that great anyway!"

Lowin slowly raised his dark eyebrows, a chuckle escaping his lips, a chuckle so deep, dark, and predatory that it meant a silent challenge accepted.

In one lightning-fast motion, Lowin swept her entirely off her feet, lifting her easily into his powerful arms. Amilah gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, but before she could utter a single protest, Lowin strode gracefully into her private office, kicking the heavy door shut behind them and turning the lock with a definitive click.

He marched straight to her desk, effortlessly clearing a space with his arm, and sat her down on top of the polished office table. Before she could draw breath, he leaned over her body, trapping her legs between his waist, and captured her lips wildly, possessively, and with a terrifying hunger.

"What did you just say, little bird?" Lowin murmured against her mouth, his breath hot, his voice laced with a lethal promise in between deep, breathless kisses.

"He isn't that great? Then let me show you exactly how mighty he can be."