The door clicked shut behind Nicolas, leaving me alone in the aftermath of our encounter. My heart raced, not from regret or guilt, but from the weight of what I had just achieved. I sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around me as I scanned the dimly lit room. The hidden camera in the corner blinked faintly, its tiny light a beacon of the evidence I now had.
I let out a shaky breath, a mix of triumph and something deeper—something I didn’t want to name.
This was exactly what I’d planned. From the moment I staged that call to the moment I slipped into that provocative lingerie, I’d orchestrated it all. Nicolas, with all his arrogance and control, had walked straight into my trap. Yet, as I replayed the events in my mind, a strange ache settled in my chest.
I pushed the feeling aside.
This
