(Continuity: Hours after Leo's arrival at Sterling Heights. Time: 9:58 PM)
The room upstairs felt alien, cold, and achingly perfect. Leo stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. The dark cotton robe felt less like a garment and more like a uniform marking an asset, not a guest. In the mirror, he saw a man who had just traded his honor for the promise of power. I must become her most efficient tool so that I can become my own hidden weapon.
9:58 PM. On time.
Leo stripped the robe. Beneath his cotton shorts, his heartbeat thrummed. He had to master every pulse of his own desire. The silence of the Glass Palace swallowed his steps as he followed the scent of sandalwood and eucalyptus toward the east wing. There, he found the double walnut doors. He knocked and instantly pushed the doors open.
The light inside was warm, dim, yet intense. It was not the light of relaxation, but one designed to emphasize every curve and shadow. A small steam pool was surrounded by volcanic rocks, but Leo's focus landed on the massage table in the center.
Vica Sterling was waiting.
She lay prone. Vica wore only a thin, black satin towel. The fabric was placed with deliberate precision, nearly transparent, framing the sharp, long curve of her lower back. Leo saw her freshly washed brown hair tied up, exposing the nape of her neck, where the cords of tension were visible. On the table's edge, oil candles scented with expensive spices cast a glow on Vica's smooth, taut skin. Vica was the embodiment of control.
"You are 43 seconds late, Alexander," Vica's voice pierced the silence. Her deep green eyes were fixed on the pillow, not looking at him, yet her presence completely dominated the space.
Leo stepped forward. He knew he had to display obedience without groveling. "My apologies, Nyonya Sterling. It won't happen again."
Vica gave a low sound, not of anger. "Nyonya Sterling? How tedious. Outside of this room, you may call me Vica. But in here, you must know who owns you. I am the Queen. And you, you must prove that you are worthy of touching my throne. Come closer. Take off what you're wearing. I want to see you."
Leo felt heat rush to his face, but he didn't hesitate. He discarded his shorts, standing naked before Vica.
"What must I do, Queen?" Leo asked. He used the title as a weapon, returning it as a sensual acknowledgment of her demand.
Vica gave a small, slow smile against the pillow. "Better. Today, you will learn Touch and Delay. Touch is first. I want you to know my body better than you know your own. Find the oil."
Leo retrieved the amber oil bottle, scented with vanilla and sharp spices. He poured the oil into his palms and began to apply it to Vica's back, starting at her shoulders.
"You're being too cautious, Alexander," Vica chastised. "Don't just stroke. Demand. I don't like timid softness. I prefer brutal strength. I want you to dominate me with your touch."
Leo changed his pressure. He used his thumbs and fingertips, pressing deeply, searching for the knots of tension. He massaged her shoulders, then her shoulder blades, channeling all his ambition into his physical strength. She asked for strength? She will get a strength that will make her forget everything else.
Leo moved down her back. Vica's skin was hot and slick. As his hands moved to her waist, Leo leaned in slightly, letting his breath brush her ear. He could clearly see the fold of the satin towel below. The towel was thin, absorbing the oil, and acting as a boundary that invited challenge.
Vica sighed, the sound deeper, edged with a tremor. "Lesson Two: Delay," Vica articulated. "Delayed gratification is the greatest tool of control. Never break the boundary until I allow it. Now, touch the edge."
Vica reached back, taking Leo's hand and guiding it. Vica's fingers gripped his wrist, leading him to slide down her hip until Leo's fingertips touched the very edge of the satin towel. Then, Vica stopped his hand right there.
"This is your boundary. You may massage above it. You may massage below it. But you will never breach it. Touch around it, Alexander. Touch the most sensitive areas, but never satisfy your desire, or mine. Wait for permission."
Leo understood. This was a game of power. He released his hand from Vica's grip and continued, focusing on Vica's inner thighs. He used the side of his palm and fingertips to apply deep pressure to the muscles near Vica's groin. Vica's reaction was almost instant. Her body trembled.
Damn. She's close to losing control just from the edge. Leo felt his penis tighten unbearably. He had to control his own response.
Vica hissed, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Deeper, Alexander. Find the spot. I want to feel restrained, but I need you to be the one making me crawl toward that limit."
Leo traced Vica's pelvic bone. Suddenly, Vica's hands, which had been clutching the table, slowly relaxed. Her dominance wavered, slightly.
Vica sighed, her voice raw. "Tell me," Vica demanded, the tone now filled with desperation. "Tell me what you are doing to my body right now. I want to hear it."
Leo understood. This was the confession Vica sought—the verbal surrender of his dominance to hers.
Leo leaned in, his lips close to Vica's ear. He used a low voice, heavy with sensual promise and threat.
"I am destroying your control, Queen. I am mapping every nerve. I know where you hide. And soon," Leo's voice dropped further, edged with measured arrogance, "I will make you arch uncontrollably just by touching the edge of that fabric. I will make you beg under my hands. And you will love it."
The brutal, lust-filled admission struck Vica like a whip. Her body convulsed uncontrollably. She gasped sharp, rapid breaths, her torso arching upward.
"How dare you speak to me like that," Vica panted, struggling to reclaim her authority.
"I'm simply being honest," Leo countered, his voice cold and confident. He moved his hand lower, hovering just above the damp satin towel.
Suddenly, Vica flipped her body over with startling speed, kicking the satin towel onto the marble floor. She lay exposed, challenging. Her perfect, naked body was fully revealed. Her clitoris and labia were visibly flushed from the suppressed desire.
"Enough with the games!" Vica commanded, her eyes dark with impatient lust. "You violated the rules with your arrogance, Alexander. And now, you must be punished."
Vica pulled Leo off the table, yanking him to the floor, and shoved him back until his spine slammed against the stone wall by the pool. The intimacy was sudden, savage, and deadly. Vica pressed her body against Leo's, her hot skin meeting his cool skin.
"The punishment is… you must give me your weakness," Vica hissed, her lips inches from Leo's, deliberately withholding the kiss—a final, calculated delay.
Vica's dominant hand moved swiftly. It clamped onto Leo's already hardened penis, not with tenderness, but with a powerful, authoritative grip.
"Now, Alexander. Open your mouth and confess to me: what do you fear the most? Not money, but ruin? Tell me!" Vica commanded, her fingers beginning to move Leo with a slow, agonizing rhythm.
Just as Leo tried to force out the word of confession, the spa suite door, which he had left slightly ajar, suddenly widened just a sliver—a razor-thin gap.
A shadow appeared in the crack—only a momentary silhouette. Leo's heart stopped. Long hair, a figure about Leo's own age. The figure didn't move, merely observing the scene of Vica and a naked Leo pressed against the wall.
CHLOE VANCE.
The figure immediately closed the door with a deadly silence, but Leo knew. Chloe Vance had seen him in his most vulnerable position: naked, dominated by Vica, and forced to confess. Leo could only swallow hard. He now had fatal blackmail material against him.