Three: Cold Sweat
760 Words
"Mmmphh...".
A low moan escaped Cleopatra’s lips as Gideon kissed her ferociously. She didn't resist; instead, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and responded with a desperation that both stunned and excited him. He let out a dark growl, grabbing the back of her head to deepen the kiss, devouring her as if he could never get enough.
With his other hand, he gripped the fabric of her dress. The sudden, sharp sound of tearing silk echoed loudly in the room. Gideon lifted her without breaking the kiss, his stride long and purposeful as he moved toward the bed.
But suddenly, he felt a sharp sting on his back. At first, he didn't pay attention, his senses consumed by the taste of her lips and the heat of her skin. But as his hand slid toward her thigh, the world began to tilt. A heavy, unnatural dizziness washed over him. His grip slackened, and he collapsed, his heavy body falling forward onto Cleopatra.
Cleopatra took a ragged breath and pushed his weight off her. Seeing that her goal was achieved, she stood up and looked down at him, her chest heaving.
"What... did... you... do... to... me?" Gideon whispered, his voice slurred as he struggled to even lift his head from the mattress.
Cleopatra stared at him, her eyes cold and resolute. "Sorry, senior, but I had no choice. I can't keep living like this anymore."
She reached into her bag and pulled out the folded documents, dropping them onto the desk with a final, hollow thud. "You’ve always said our marriage was a bondage. I am setting us free. You can go back to your Maya now. I wish you both a happy life together, and I hope we never cross paths again."
Gideon’s fingers let out a weak twitch. "Cleopatra... you... I will make you pay for this..."
"I've already paid for everything," she replied, her voice unfaltering. "I don't owe you anything, Gideon."
.....
The sharp, rhythmic tap of a finger on her shoulder shattered the memory. Cleopatra blinked rapidly, the blurred edges of the room suddenly snapping back into focus. The suffocating heat of that bedroom was instantly replaced by the chilled, filtered air of the private club’s executive suite.
"Cleo? The documents," Clark prompted softly.
Cleopatra’s fingers went numb. She forced herself to open the leather folder, her head bowed as her hair shielded her face. She could feel Gideon’s gaze; it was a physical weight pressing against her skin.
"Forgive my assistant, Mr. Moretti," Clark said, his voice regaining its sharp, professional edge. "It’s been a long day. Gideon, I’d like you to meet my lead content strategist, Cleopatra Allen."
Gideon didn't flinch at the name. He leaned back in his leather chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His face was a mask of unreadable stone.
"Cleopatra," Gideon repeated, dragging out the syllables as if tasting a long-forgotten poison. "A classic name. Though you look as if you’ve seen a ghost, Miss Allen."
"I... I’m just a bit tired, sir," she whispered, finally forced to look up.
He raised a brow, watching her with a predatory calmness that made her blood run cold.
"Sit, please," Gideon said, his voice dropping into a smooth, cultured tone that made Cleopatra’s skin crawl. It was a polite request, but the weight behind it felt like an order she could not refuse.
He gestured gracefully to the chair directly across from him, a faint, professional smile touching his lips, one that did not reach his eyes. "Clark speaks very highly of your work, Miss Allen. I am quite interested to see if your talent for... complex arrangements... is as exceptional as he claims."
Clark, heartened by the client's apparent interest, pulled out the chair for her. "Sit, Cleo. Mr. Moretti is right; your insight on these clauses is exactly why I brought you along."
Cleopatra sat, her knees knocking together under the table. She felt like she was stepping into a trap made of silk. As she spread the papers out, the rustling of the parchment was the only sound in the quiet room. Her hands were shaking so violently she had to grip the edge of the desk to hide it.
Suddenly, she felt a solid, heavy pressure on her foot under the table.
Gideon had extended his leg, his expensive leather shoe pinning hers firmly to the carpet. Despite the aggressive move, his face remained perfectly composed as he looked at Clark.
Cleopatra paled, her breath hitching in her throat.
- Writer
