The contract and revelation

Zayden’s voice erupted in a furious scream. “What!” His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with a mixture of confusion and shock. Without another word, he stormed toward the door. Just before stepping out, he threw a sharp glance back at Camellia.

“Stay here,” he barked, his tone brooking no argument.

Camellia’s lips parted to protest, but before she could get a word out, the door slammed shut, leaving her standing in silence.

Her mind raced as she turned over what she’d overheard. Davidson is dead? The idea sent a chill down her spine. Quickly, she pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she swiped to open the latest news. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the headline blared back at her: Prominent CEO Found Dead in Apparent Suicide.

Camellia stared at the article, the words blurring together. Why would a vibrant, successful CEO take his own life? The thought made her stomach churn. Her instincts told her there was more to this story—something dark and deliberate.

Unable to resist, she crept toward the door, her steps light and calculated. Pressing her ear to the wood, she strained to catch the faint murmur of Zayden’s voice. His words were muffled, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

Inside the other room, Zayden paced back and forth, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he held the phone to his ear. His voice was low, urgent.

“You did this, didn’t you?” he hissed. There was a long pause as he listened. “Yes, he was a rival, but I never wanted him dead!”

Camellia’s heart raced. Who was he talking to? Was it true? Did the Blackwoods have something to do with Davidson’s death?

The call ended abruptly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Camellia quickly stepped back from the door, her mind a storm of questions. She tried to compose herself, smoothing her dress and taking a deep breath before knocking lightly.

“Come in,” Zayden called, his voice gruff.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, meeting his intense gaze. His expression shifted to one of surprise. “You’re still here?”

Camellia offered a small, hesitant smile. “I thought you might need some company,” she said softly, shrugging out of the jacket he’d given her earlier.

Zayden’s lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes remained shadowed. “So, you’ve decided to sign the contract?”

She took a slow step closer, nodding. “I’ll be your personal stripper,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.

His grin widened. “I knew you’d come around,” he said smugly. “You like the way I’m nasty toward you, don’t you?”

Camellia didn’t respond, instead closing the distance between them and sliding into his lap. She guided his hands to her breasts, and Zayden didn’t hesitate. He untie her crop top, revealing her bare breasts and fondle it, twisting her nipples.

"Gosh," Camellia moaned, closing her eyes, savouring the moment. Her breath hitched as he traced his fingers along her body, pulling her closer.

He reached for her skirt and torn off her pant. He slid his two middle finger into her pussy and she flinched with desire, wetness dripping underneath that she had to pull her legs together.

Zayden pulled down his trousers, revealing his long and hard cock. Camellia's eyes widened, her pulse quickening. She hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly. Was she truly about to surrender her first time to the man she considered her enemy?

“Wait,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “It’s… my first time.”

Zayden froze, his movements halting as her words registered. He pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed in disbelief.

“What?” he asked, his voice low and incredulous.

Camellia met his gaze, her vulnerability apparent. “I’ve never… been with anyone before.”

For the first time, Zayden seemed at a loss. He slumped back in his chair, his hardened expression softening. “I didn’t expect that,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I thought you were like the others.”

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, and she offered a small, reassuring smile. Zayden helped her retie her top, his touch surprisingly gentle. For a moment, he rested his head on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her possessively.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Camellia found herself questioning everything. Zayden was nothing like she’d imagined—he was still her enemy, but there was a complexity to him she hadn’t anticipated.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her reverie. She glanced at the screen: a group message from Dan asking her to meet.

“I need to go,” she said, pulling away and slipping back into the jacket.

Zayden nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll drive you.”

The ride was quiet, and when they arrived, she gave him a brief nod before heading inside.

In the meeting room, Dan and Nathan were already waiting. Nathan’s face was tight with anger.

“Davidson is dead,” he said, disgust lacing his tone. “When will the Blackwoods finally be held accountable?”

“I overheard Zayden talking about it,” Camellia said cautiously. “It sounded like someone in his family might be involved.”

Dan frowned, leaning forward. “Be careful,” he warned. “Don’t get too close to him. We need his trust, but don’t let yourself get tangled in this.”

Camellia nodded, though doubt gnawed at her.

Back at the Blackwood mansion, Zayden walked into his living room to find Charlotte lounging on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“So,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “you’ve found yourself a new plaything.”

Zayden shot her a cold look. “Why do you care?”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, I don’t. I just hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

Ignoring her, Zayden headed upstairs, stripping off his clothes as he went.

Zayden and Charlotte had never shared love; their marriage was a union arranged by their families. Despite Zayden’s efforts to breathe life into their relationship, it was a futile endeavor. Charlotte had no interest in building a life with him—her heart belonged to someone else

For the next month, Camellia and Zayden grew closer. Their time together blurred the line between duty and something more. Despite her resolve, Camellia felt herself slipping, emotions she couldn’t control stirring to life.

Camellia's world tilted the moment she returned to the club and found a stranger waiting.

“Camellia,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk. It’s about Davidson—and the Blackwoods.”

Her blood ran cold. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice unsteady.

The man stepped closer, his face obscured by shadows. “Someone who knows the truth. You’re in over your head.”

“What?” she blurted, her voice cracking with a mixture of shock and disbelief. She instinctively moved toward him, her fists clenched. “Who are you? And why do you know so much about me?” Her voice trembled, the sharp edge of fear and curiosity intertwined.

The man’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes carried something far darker. “You just have to trust me,” he said softly, his voice deceptively calm. “I’m not your enemy. Your father was a good man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Camellia felt her heart twist, a familiar ache resurfacing, but she shoved it down. “And you expect me to believe you?” she snapped, her tone sharp as a blade. “For eight years, I’ve been chasing ghosts, searching for evidence. What makes you think you can do what I couldn’t?”

“The Blackwoods,” he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “have connections that bury any shred of evidence before you even know it exists. They don’t leave loose ends, Camellia. They have people—professionals—who ensure that every crime they commit disappears

without a trace.”

He handed her a card, his eyes dark. “Call me. I might something to prove the Blackwood's crimes."

Camellia hesitated, her fingers trembling as she took the card. She glanced at the sleek lettering and felt a pang of doubt twist her gut. Could she trust him? Was this just another cruel trick?

As he turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, his expression sharp and unreadable. “One more thing,” he said, his tone chilling. “You should quit your little game with Zayden while you can. Zayden—he’s more dangerous than you realize.”

Before she could respond, he was gone. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she clutched the card tightly. Then she noticed something at the back, scrawled in hurried letters, were the words:

“He's watching you. Be careful.”