The seduction

Gently, she grabbed his hands and guided him back onto the sofa. Zayden let her take charge, watching her with an amused smirk as she moved with purpose.

Once he was seated, Camellia climbed back onto his lap, her movements slow and deliberate. She reached for her bra straps, sliding them down dramatically. Her bare skin came into view, and Zayden's eyes widened, his breath hitching as her nipples stood exposed before him. He blinked, stunned, unable to reconcile this bold, uninhibited version of Camellia with the reserved woman he had known moments ago.

What is she doing? How could a woman who seemed so uptight suddenly transform into this?

But Zayden didn’t realize she had a plan—a calculated one.

Camellia cupped her breasts, fondling them provocatively before pressing them against his face. Zayden inhaled sharply, his body betraying him as a sharp twitch in his groin made him lose composure. Giving in, he took her breast in his hands, his lips closing over one nipple. He bit down gently, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

“Ouch,” she whimpered, a moan slipping from her lips despite herself. Heat pooled between her thighs, an unwelcome but undeniable reaction.

He continued his adventures, sucking and teasing her skin with his tongue, his hands wandering possessively over her curves. The sound of their ragged breaths filled the room. His hand slid down to her ass, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze.

Just as his hands found the edge of her jumpsuit, tugging it down, something glinted in the dim light—a wedding band on his finger.

Camellia froze.

Her breath hitched as a flood of emotions overtook her—disgust, fury, and a sharp pang of despair. Her gaze lingered on the ring. Married. He had a wife. And not just that—this man, this Zayden Blackwood, was responsible for tearing her life apart.

A surge of anger overtook her. She pushed his hands away, standing abruptly and pulling her straps back into place.

“This isn’t right,” she hissed, her voice low but filled with emotion. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Zayden leaned back, his expression unreadable, then let out a mocking chuckle. “Isn’t it a little late for morals, sweetheart? You liked it. Don’t deny it.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it onto the table. Ten thousand dollars.

“Enjoy,” he said smugly.

Camellia’s jaw tightened. Fury burned through her, but it wasn’t just at him—it was at herself. How did it come to this? How could she have let herself enjoy a moment with the man who caused her family’s destruction?

Snatching the money, she stormed out of the room, his mocking laughter echoing behind her.

The taxi ride to the hospital felt like a blur. Camellia’s thoughts raced, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. When she arrived, she found Catherine asleep, the sedatives doing their work.

Standing by the hospital bed, Camellia’s gaze lingered on her sister’s burned skin. Her chest tightened painfully as memories of that night came flooding back.

The fire. Their home engulfed in flames.

Her father had been the hero that night. He’d tied a makeshift rope from clothes to help them escape through a window. He made Camellia climb down first, but when it was Catherine’s turn, a burning beam collapsed, trapping her sister. Those burns had been the price she paid to survive.

Tears streamed down Camellia’s face as guilt gnawed at her. If only she had told her father to back down, to stop fighting for justice. Maybe then her parents would still be alive. Maybe Catherine wouldn’t have to suffer like this.

But no amount of regret could change the past. Camellia wiped her tears quickly, forcing herself to be strong. She had a duty—to protect her sister and to seek revenge.

Her mind snapped back to Zayden, to his arrogant smirk and dismissive laugh. She should have strangled him right then and there. But no—she would play the long game. She would seduce him, ensnare him, and destroy him.

For her family, she would give up everything—even her dignity.

Across the city, Zayden couldn’t get her out of his head. As his wife, Charlotte rode him, her movements wild and demanding, he found himself distracted by thoughts of Camellia. Who was she? Why did she intrigue him so much?

Zayden Blackwood, captivated by a stripper. The idea was ridiculous, yet her fiery demeanor and boldness had left an imprint. Shaking his head, he tried to refocus on Charlotte, but the image of Camellia lingered.

A week passed, and Zayden didn’t return to the club.

Each night, Camellia scanned the crowd for him, her plans brewing, her resolve steeled. She spent her days researching him, uncovering the layers of the Blackwood family. He wasn’t as prominent as his brother—the second son—but that only made him more dangerous.

One evening, as she entered the club, her heart skipped. There he was, lounging in the corner with another dancer, Ariana, grinding on his lap.

Zayden’s gaze locked on Camellia as soon as she appeared. His smirk deepened as he grabbed Ariana’s ass, squeezing it purposefully.

Camellia bristled, but instead of reacting, she turned to a stranger nearby and slid onto his lap.

“Hey, baby,” she purred, running her hands over his chest. “What’s your name?”

The man blinked in surprise. “Zack,” he stammered.

“Zack, baby,” she cooed, leaning closer. “Why don’t you grab my ass?”

Zack hesitated but eventually complied, his hands settling on her hips.

That was all it took.

Zayden shot up from his seat, shoving Ariana aside. Jealousy burned in his eyes as he stormed over, grabbing Camellia by the arm.

“Let’s go,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Why should I?” she challenged, glaring up at him.

“Don’t push me,” he snapped. “Get in the car.”

She hesitated but eventually climbed in, his dark expression unsettling her.

He drove in silence, the tension palpable. When they arrived at his office, Zayden grabbed a jacket from the back seat and handed it to her.

“Put this on,” he said.

Camellia stared at him, surprised by the gesture. For a moment, her heart softened—but only for a moment. She reminded herself of who he was, of what he had done.

She slipped the jacket over her revealing dress, her expression neutral as they entered the towering Blackwood Construction building.

In his office, Zayden pulled a file from his desk and slammed it onto the table.

“This is a contract,” he said coldly. “You’ll be my personal stripper.”

Camellia stared at the file, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Anger and humiliation twisted inside her, but she schooled her features into calm indifference.

“What makes you think I’d agree to this?” she challenged, her voice steady, despite the fury bubbling beneath.

Zayden leaned forward, a dark smile curving his lips. “Because I always get what I want, sweetheart.”

Camellia’s pulse quickened as she leaned in, closing the space between them. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her words laced with venom. “Careful, Zayden. You might find out what happens when someone tries to play me.”

He laughed, the sound low and mocking. “Is that so?”

Before she could respond, the door to the office burst open. A man in a dark suit stepped inside, Asher, zayden's PA, his face pale with urgency.

The man swallowed hard, his gaze flickering nervously. “He’s dead. And…” He hesitated, glancing at Camellia again.

Zayden’s eyes narrowed. “And what?”

The man took a deep breath. “The contract was awarded to us.”

The air in the room seemed to shift, heavy with unspoken tension.

Zayden’s smirk vanished, replaced by a look of cold calculation. He rose slowly from his chair, his gaze locked on the man. “Who’s dead?”

The man hesitated, his voice barely a whisper. “Mr. Davidson.”

Camellia froze. Her breath caught in her throat as recognition jolted through her. Davidson. That was… the Blackwoods’ fiercest competitor. Could they have had a hand in his death?