★★Leon's POV★★



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After the torturous game, I felt like my problems weighed a little less than before. Dinner with Damien and Antonio was uneventful, and soon enough, we made it back to the penthouse to start packing. We're finally leaving tomorrow morning, and I can't wait. Being here has done nothing but stress me out.

As we pack, Antonio is busy trying to convince us that going to the club tonight is a brilliant idea. Something about "the city that never sleeps" and how he knows where to find "the good ladies."

His words, not mine.

So now, instead of getting a good night's sleep, we're heading to a club. Great. I guess a little alcohol won't kill anyone, but with Antonio? It's never just about the drinks.

I throw on a basic outfit and spray on my lucky cologne. You never know when you'll need a little luck when going out with Antonio—he's a "drink, fight, and apologize later" kind of guy. I grab my gun, wallet, and phone, slipping them into my jacket before stepping out into the living room.

"If your asses aren't out here by the time the elevator gets here, I'm leaving you both," I yell, loud enough to echo through the penthouse.

As I press the elevator button, I start counting down. "Five, four, three, two—"

The sound of feet clattering down the hallway interrupts me.

"—and one," I finish with a grin. I glance back to see Damien and Antonio skidding to a stop beside me, both slightly out of breath.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open, and we step inside. Antonio looks smug, Damien looks exasperated, and I?

I'm just ready to get this over with.

We pull up to the club, the car coming to a smooth stop in front of the doors. Our driver, ever the professional, gives a respectful nod. "Enjoy, Mr. Laurent."

I simply nod in response, and with Damien and Antonio by my side, we walk towards the entrance. The music from inside spills out into the crisp NYC night air, pulsing with energy. The bouncers take one look at me, their expressions changing from routine to cautious recognition. They move aside almost immediately, nodding respectfully.

"Bienvenue, patron. (Welcome back, Boss.)" one of them manages to say.

I don't even acknowledge them, brushing past without a word. The second I push the door open, Jessica, one of my trusted employees, is waiting for me. She greets me with a smile.

"Bienvenue, patron. (Welcome back, Boss.)" She nods and then adds, "Suivez-moi, s'il vous plaît (Follow me, please)."

She guides us through the club with ease, leading us straight to our usual VIP booth. As we pass the bar, I catch Kevin's eye. He gives me a quick nod.

"Kevin, working hard as ever, I see?" I call out with a small smirk.

"You already know it, patron (Boss,)" he replies, his voice full of confidence.

I chuckle softly and continue on, following Jessica. We finally reach the booth, and sure enough, the bottles and glasses are already laid out, waiting for us. We all sit, and I immediately grab a whiskey bottle, pouring myself a generous glass.

As we sip our drinks and the music pulses around us, Damien lets out an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, I can't wait to get the hell out of here and back home."

I glance at him with a raised eyebrow, smirking. "Aww, missing mommy and daddy, are we?"

Antonio jumps in with a grin. "Well, news flash, you're not gonna miss it much when Leon takes your precious motorcycle."

I almost choke on my whiskey, holding back a laugh. Damien shoots a glare at both of us, clearly not amused.

"You two are really made for each other," Damien mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Damien scoffs, downing his drink and immediately pouring another one. "Oh, brother." I grin, amusement dancing in my eyes. "I promise I won't blow it up. Does that help?"

He shoots daggers at me, completely ignoring my response. I smirk, exchanging a glance with Antonio, both of us fighting back laughter.

Shaking my head, I turn my attention to the dance floor, the pulsating lights casting shadows on the crowd lost in the rhythm. Their bodies sway and jump, consumed by the music, their movements unburdened by anything but the beat. How effortlessly they surrender to the moment, abandoning all their worries, their fears—like they have nothing in the world to hold them back. It's maddening, really. To be that free. To exist in a space where nothing matters, where the chaos of life is just background noise. I watch, envious of their ability to drown everything out, as if the weight of the world never pressed against their shoulders. How simple it must be, to feel nothing but the rhythm and the air.

But then—wait. Who's...that?

My gaze is drawn to a woman in a short red dress, her movements effortlessly graceful as she sways to the music. The gentle curve of her hips, the way her round ass moves in perfect time with the rhythm—it's like poetry in motion. Her dark brown curls bounce with each step, catching the light like threads of silk.

I let my eyes drift down her figure, captivated by her beauty. She's a vision—a body that could grace a Victoria's Secret runway. Her legs are long and toned, each step revealing the strength beneath her delicate exterior, while the red heels she wears add an air of dangerous elegance, as if she's untouchable.

She turns, and in that moment, my heart skips a beat. Her features—breathtaking, enchanting—capture my attention completely. Her clear blue eyes sparkle with life, reflecting the lights above like sapphires, and her full lips, glistening in the soft glow, are as red as the dress she wears.

I can't help but imagine how soft they might feel, how they might taste, like the sweetest temptation.

Just as I'm about to lose myself in the haze of desire, a middle-aged man approaches her, and before I can even react, his hands are on her waist, sliding down her body with a sense of entitlement. I feel a surge of irritation—a tightening in my chest, my fists clenching without thinking.

What the hell is this? Why do I even care?

She's not mine. She doesn't belong to me.

But the more I tell myself that, the more I can't help but watch, intrigued by how she handles it. There's something about the way she carries herself, the way she doesn't let anyone take control that pulls me in. I'm not drawn to her, not like that, but I can't deny I'm curious—curious about how she'll handle this.

She turns, and in an instant, she shoves his hands away with a fierce determination. I can't help but smirk as her face twists with frustration, her brows furrowing in a silent declaration of defiance. There's something maddeningly cute about the way she stands her ground, like she's daring anyone to challenge her.

The man, undeterred, tries again. But she's quicker—she grabs his hands with a swift, practiced motion, twisting them in a way that makes my breath hitch. Damn, that was sexy. The strength and grace in her movements ignite something deep inside me, a fire I can't control.

My body reacts before my mind even processes it. Why the hell are my pants so tight all of a sudden?

She kneed him with ruthless precision, the man stumbling back, groaning in pain as she walks away, her steps confident, unshaken. My eyes never leave her, the way her hips swayed, each stride more intoxicating than the last, was mesmerizing. I couldn't help but trace the curve of her body as she headed toward the bar, the confidence in her walk sending a jolt of something dark and primal through me.

I snap back to reality, shaking my head in frustration, but it's no use. My mind is consumed by her. The thoughts swirl, refusing to let go.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I grab a cigarette, lighting it in a desperate attempt to steady myself, but even the burn of the smoke can't soothe the storm inside me.

Antonio managed to slip away, spinning some random girl around in rhythm with the music, his hands guiding her as they moved together. Meanwhile, Damien and I stayed in the booth, shrouded in the haze of cigarette smoke.

But my focus wasn't on Antonio or Damien. No, my attention was consumed by her—the woman in red. She stood at the bar, sipping her drink, oblivious to how much control she already had over me. My eyes wandered down the curve of her body, lingering on that dress.

Red. The color of lust, passion... and blood.

My favorite color.

The fabric clung to her figure, riding up just slightly as she shifted, teasing me with fleeting glimpses of skin. God, that dress. It was criminal how it hugged her beautiful, toned body. The urge clawed at me—to sink my teeth into it, to tear it off and see what lay beneath. What color was her lingerie? Was it black, bold and commanding, or something softer, more delicate?

I dragged the cigarette back to my lips, my thoughts spiraling deeper into obsession. She turned her head, her face illuminated by the bar lights, and for a moment, I wondered what kind of expressions she'd make beneath me—would her features twist in pleasure or frustration?

I wanted to know every angle of her.

And then it happened—her eyes found mine. A sharp glare, like a dagger thrown across the room, piercing through the smoky air. I froze, caught in her gaze. My heartbeat quickened, a slow smirk creeping onto my lips as I stared back.

Let her look. Let her know.

She takes a slow sip of her drink, her piercing gaze never wavering from mine. The intensity of her eyes stirs something deep inside me, a tug-of-war between lust and curiosity. And then, like a punch to the gut, she tilts her head to the side, her dark curls cascading with the movement.

It's such a simple gesture, innocent even—like a curious little puppy—but it wrecks me completely.

God, what is she doing to me?

I raise an eyebrow and give her a challenging smirk, silently daring her to keep up the game. That's when I notice it—the subtle shift in her posture, the way her legs clamp together just a little too quickly, like she's trying to suppress something. A low chuckle escapes my lips.

So, she's affected by me too. I like that.

Before I can relish the victory, her friend pulls her attention away. She glances at her, momentarily breaking the connection, but not before flicking her eyes back at me. I lean back in my seat, smirking as I take a drag from my cigarette.

Well, I guess I won. For now.

Damien pulls me out of my gaze, his voice cutting through the haze of smoke and obsession. "What are you smiling about?" He tries to follow my line of sight, but I quickly shoot him an annoyed glare.

"Mind your business," I snap, leaning back into the booth.

Damien scoffs, shaking his head like I'm the unreasonable one here. After a moment of silence, he hits me with a question out of left field. "Have you been in contact with Papa lately?"

I shift my attention to him, confusion etched across my face. "Not since he called me to handle the meeting here in New York. Why?"

Damien nods, looking away like he's trying to act nonchalant. "No reason. Just wondering."

I raise an eyebrow, studying him. "So, you're starting random conversations about Papa now?" There's curiosity in my tone, but also a hint of suspicion.

He exhales sharply, like he's weighing his words. "No, it's just... He called me earlier. Said there's some work that needs to be 'dealt with' back in France."

I stiffen at the word "dealt with," knowing exactly what it implies. My head tilts back against the booth as I close my eyes, the weight of it all sinking in. I bring the cigarette to my lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke fills my lungs, and I hold it there, letting the burn linger before exhaling slowly through my nose and mouth.

The sound of the booth door creaking open pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Antonio stumbling in, drenched in sweat with a drink in hand. He's panting like he just ran a marathon.

"Whew! She was fun!" he says, grinning like a fool as he gulps down his drink. His face shifts when he notices the tension between me and Damien. He gives us a concerned look, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Now, tell me why both of your asses are still sitting here," Antonio says, raising his voice to compete with the music. He gives us an exaggerated look of genuine concern. "Doesn't your ass hurt from sitting for so long?"

I retort quickly, not even sparing him a glance as I bring my drink to my lips. "Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk so much?"

Antonio scoffs dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like I just shot him. "Wow, not nice, Leon," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've gone and broken my poor, fragile heart."

He pouts exaggeratedly, holding his chest as if he's been mortally wounded. I can't help but chuckle at his over-the-top response, shaking my head.

"Unbelievable " I say, smirking, my tone laced with amusement. Antonio grins, clearly enjoying his little performance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red—her. She's walking toward the back, disappearing into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. My pulse quickens, a sly smirk tugging at my lips.

Well, what can I say? It seems like this is my moment to shine.

Without hesitation, I down the rest of my drink in one go, the burn barely registering as I set the glass down with a satisfying clink. I straighten my jacket, buttoning it up with precision before standing.

Behind me, Antonio's voice rings out, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh my God, look! The great Leon stands! Somebody call the press!"

Damien chokes on his drink, sputtering as he bursts into laughter, clearly entertained.

I glance back over my shoulder, fixing them both with an unimpressed glare before flipping them off.

Their laughter fades into the background as I stride toward the hallway, my steps purposeful, my focus locked on where she disappeared.

As I'm about to turn the corner, a sudden collision stops me in my tracks. A woman bumps into me, her body briefly meeting mine before she stumbles backward, her balance wavering. My instincts kick in, and I swiftly react, my hand closing around her lower back while the other grasps her waist, steadying her. I pull her back up, and her hands instinctively land on my torso, her touch igniting a spark within me.

The warmth of her fingers against my chest sends a jolt of electricity through my body, making my cock stir to life. The sensation is intense, and I can feel my pulse quickening, my heart pounding in my chest. I try to maintain my composure, but it's a struggle. The gentle pressure of her hands on my torso is like a whispered promise, hinting at the possibility of more.

The sweet, sugary scent of her perfume wafts up, wrapping around me like a tantalizing mist. It's a potent aroma that speaks directly to my primal nature, stirring a deep and primal desire within me. My grip on her tightens, as if releasing her is no longer an option. My fingers dig deeper into her skin, craving the feeling of her softness, her warmth.

As I hold her, I become acutely aware of the curve of her body, the gentle swell of her breasts, and the narrow waist that fits so perfectly in my grasp. The air around us seems to thicken, growing heavier with anticipation. The world narrows to the space between us, the only sound the gentle hum of the atmosphere and the soft rush of our breathing.

For a moment, time stands still, and all that exists is the tension between us. The spark of attraction has ignited, and it's spreading rapidly, fueled by the heat of our bodies and the promise of something more. I can feel her warmth, her vitality, and it's like a siren's call, beckoning me closer, drawing me in with an otherworldly force.

I let a devilish smirk tug at my lips. "You alright there, love?" I murmur, keeping my tone low and smooth, my smirk never faltering.

As she whispers her thanks, her voice is barely audible, but the sound sends a shiver down my spine. Her cheeks are flushed, and her blue, crystalline eyes sparkle like diamonds in the light, captivating me with their intensity. I feel like I'm drowning in their depths, unable to look away, unable to escape the allure of her gaze.

My eyes drift to her lips, plump and inviting, painted a seductive red that seems to beckon me closer. I can almost taste the sweetness of her mouth, imagine the gentle pressure of her lips against mine. But it's not just a kiss I'm thinking of - I'm imagining those lips wrapped around me, feeling the warmth of her mouth, the gentle suction of her tongue.

She licks her lips, a nervous gesture that only serves to heighten the tension between us. My grin widens, a wolfish smile that hints at the hunger I feel for her. I can almost see her on her knees, her eyes looking up at me with a mixture of longing and submission. I can feel the thrill of having her under my control, of being able to guide her, to dictate the pace of our encounter.

As she says she has to go, her voice is like music, a sweet melody that fills my senses and leaves me wanting more. I loosen my hold on her, reluctant to let her go, but my hands seem to have a mind of their own. They linger on her waist, reluctant to release the warmth of her skin, the gentle curve of her body.

As she walks away, my eyes are drawn to her ass, round and perfect, encased in a dress that seems to be designed to drive me crazy. The fabric hugs her curves, showcasing the sway of her hips, the gentle bounce of her step. Every movement is a seduction, a temptation that I'm powerless to resist. I can almost see her on her hands and knees, her back arched, her hips presented to me like an offering. I can feel the thrill of taking her, of claiming her, of making her mine.

"Beautiful dress, mon amour, (my love)" I call out, my voice low and husky, barely above a whisper. She glances back at me, a soft chuckle on her lips, and I feel like I've been punched in the gut. The sound of her laughter is like a siren's call, beckoning me closer, drawing me in with an otherworldly force. I'm helpless to resist, trapped in the web of her allure, unable to look away, unable to escape the promise of her touch. And in that moment, I know I'd do anything to have her, to claim her, to make her mine.

God help me, she's going to be my undoing.

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OHH SHIT!

I'mma just say it. Smash. Next question.

But that's not all, just so you wait I have in stored in the next couple of chapters. hehehe

*Are we morning or night person?*

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡