Clara Morgan and Ethan Windsor spun around to find Sebastian Hartwell standing nearby. Clad in a black designer suit, his obsidian eyes radiated an ominous aura that made the air thicken.
At the sight of Imperial City's most feared tycoon, Ethan instinctively released Clara's wrist.
Sebastian spared Ethan a dismissive glance, lips curling. "And you are?"
Ethan opened his mouth, but no words came.
Alexander Han interjected, "CEO Hartwell, this is Ethan Windsor, heir to Windsor Pharmaceuticals."
Sebastian's smile was shadowed, his tone laced with menace. "May I ask what business you have with my secretary, Mr. Windsor?"
Ethan regained his composure. "We're old acquaintances, CEO Hartwell. Just catching up."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. Catching up? He'd seen Ethan's iron grip on Clara's wrist. If looks could kill, Ethan would be bleeding out on the carpet.
Ignoring Ethan, Sebastian ordered Clara, "Let's go, Secretary Morgan."
Clara rubbed her wrist and trailed after him.
Instead of returning to the ballroom, Sebastian led her to the penthouse presidential suite. Dizziness washed over Clara. "CEO Hartwell, since the gala's over, I should—"
"Stop."
Clara turned, fidgeting by the living room sofa. Please don't tell me he wants me again. She'd barely recovered from the last time.
Sebastian lounged on the couch, legs crossed, lighting a cigarette. The cherry glowed between his long fingers. "I'm planning to dismantle Windsor Pharmaceuticals."
Clara staggered, pain shooting through her heels. "Why, CEO Hartwell?"
"Because their son put his hands on my secretary."
The truth ran deeper. Sebastian had heard every word of their conversation—Ethan claiming Clara had once loved him. How dare she love another man?
Clara panicked. "There's a misunderstanding between us, CEO Hartwell. It's in the past. Please—"
Sebastian studied her watery eyes and fluttering lashes, feeling an unwelcome tug in his chest. "Begging me?"
Clara's lips trembled. "My parents died when I was young. They never taught me."
Sebastian frowned, a rare pang of sympathy striking him. "Show me how you beg."
Clara clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. "Tell me what you want."
"Take a shower."
Once Clara entered the bathroom, Sebastian called his assistant. "Investigate Clara Morgan's background. And send over women's pajamas, underwear, and casual clothes to the suite. Thirty minutes."
In the bathroom, Clara stood under the showerhead until Sebastian entered, his eyes wicked. "I'll teach you how to beg, Secretary Morgan."
Clara retreated to the corner. "Can we do this somewhere else?"
"No."
Later, Clara lay limp on the bed, too sore to move. Sebastian applied ointment to her skin—a more humiliating act than the sex itself. When he began dressing her in the pajamas delivered by his assistant, Clara squirmed. "I can do it!"
"Stay still," he growled, buttons slipping through his fingers as desire flared again. Since when did a woman reduce him to this?
After dressing her, Sebastian pointed to casual clothes by the bed. "Take tomorrow off. Wear those home."
Clara stared, surprised by the unexpected consideration. "Thank you, CEO Hartwell."
Sebastian gripped her chin. "Say you'll never love Ethan Windsor."
"I'll never love Ethan Windsor."
Satisfied, he kissed her. "Sleep before I change my mind."