Page 17 of Strange Seduction (Strange #2)

Whatever You Want.

Day Four.

I was still sore.

Not a regretful sore.

More like a we-might’ve-gone-too-hard-but-I-loved-every-second kind of sore. I shifted in the backseat of the car as it jerked to a stop at a red light, my thighs pressing together instinctively.

Yeah. Definitely sore.

Last night was…a lot.

I’d barely made it to the bed before he was on his knees, reverently, obsessively, like the piercing was some new present he couldn’t believe he’d been trusted to touch. And then he did more than touch—God, the man had worshipped . Teeth, tongue, fingers. I’d never had anyone treat me like that.

Which brought me to now: walking with a slight limp, sore in all the right places, and debating whether or not to punch him or kiss him for asking me to come up here.

“Mrs. Clayton,” the lobby guard greeted me. “Want me to let him know you’re here?”

Doubt: Guess you’re known as Mrs. Clayton now.

“Nah,” I said with a smile. “He knows I’m coming, and I’d rather surprise him.”

I walked past the receptionist, who gave me the stinkest side eye I’d ever received.

Fuck, she made Eloise look like child’s play.

It’s been a while since I had someone openly show their dislike for me. And honestly? It was refreshing. I almost forget how much I rubbed bitches the wrong way with my presence alone. It made me chuckle.

The elevator doors closed behind me with a soft ding , and I leaned against the railing, adjusting my coat. Underneath, I wore one of Theo’s oversized button-ups, my new black Versace heels, red panties and nothing else.

Just because I was sore didn’t mean I wasn’t horny.

When I stepped onto his floor, the polished marble seemed louder under my steps.

“Where is he?” I asked his assistant, Melanie, or Marcie, or something with an M. She looked up at me, startled.

“He’s in the conference room—”

“I’ll wait,” I cut in smoothly, striding past her without breaking pace. Her lips parted like she wanted to stop me, but also knew better. I tried to remember where that was from the tour he gave me, but thankfully, the rooms were labeled in both Italian and English.

I cracked open the heavy door and slipped inside quietly like a thief. Theo sat at the head of the long table, sleeves rolled, jaw set, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his hand through it one too many times.

I need to give him a retwist before I leave.

His voice was steady and commanding, bouncing off the glass walls.

Then he looked up and saw me, his mouth paused mid-sentence.

I gave him a little wave.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” I mouthed with a smirk.

He blinked. His gaze dropped to my bare legs, lingered, and then slowly made its way back up. His nostrils flared.

He cleared his throat, returning his attention to Carter sitting across from him, who looked between us rapidly. I could tell he felt the tension.

“We’ll circle back on that next week,” Theo said, voice suddenly tight. “Thanks, Carter.”

Carter gathered his things and fled like the room was on fire, not before whispering a quick, “Nice to see you again” to me.

“Likewise,” I waved in response.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Theo pushed back from the table, eyes burning. “What are you doing here, Sweetness?”

“Thought you said you wanted to show me something at work.”

“I did, but I thought you’d at least gimme a heads up before you get here.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He stood slowly, hands braced on the edge of the table.

“You’re limping.”

“You’re observant.”

“You still sore?” His voice was practically a purr now.

“Maybe.”

He walked around the table like a panther, stopping a foot away from me. “You didn’t have to come if you’re sore, baby. We could’ve rescheduled.”

“I wanted to see what you wanted to show me.” I gave him a slow once-over. “Then I wanted to show you something too.”

He arched a brow. “Like what?”

“You first.”

With a subtle roll of his eyes at my difficulty, he turned toward the table, sweeping aside a stack of papers to reveal a row of architectural models. His voice dipped into that calm, focused cadence he used when he talked business.

“These are a few of the upcoming builds we’re bidding for. Mixed-use space in Midtown. A couple of commercial contracts. And this one…” He tapped a model near the end. “This is the one I want your opinion on.”

I stepped closer, inspecting the miniature house—sleek, modern lines, open layout, lots of glass. “Oh, this one’s definitely you. Very dramatic and very on-brand.”

He side-eyed me. “You think I’m dramatic?”

I shrugged with a wink. “Of course. You can’t hang around me for this long and not pick up that trait.”

Theo tried and failed to hide his smile. I looked back at the project, and something caught my eye. Underneath was a sketch of a building still in its early stages.

“Teddy?” I questioned, pulling the page free. It was beautiful—a commercial build, but not something typical. The design of the model was more artistic than something you’d expect from a shopping centre. “What is this?”

“Just something I was fucking around with, nothing special.”

I gave him that look. “Theodore Clayton. You don’t fuck around with project. Talk to me.”

He sighed.

“It’s an idea, Amore mio .” He was insisting, but I wasn’t buying it. “It just was on my mind, and I penned it down. I don’t have time to work on something like this right now. The company is stretched too thin.”

“Hm,” I looked back at the drawing. “It’s beautiful. Your skills have improved so much.”

He blushed slightly. “Yeah? Nancy gave me a few ideas on it, but most of it is me.”

“Nancy Rafael gave you ideas on ‘fucking around’ project, huh? I’m glad you two still talk.”

He smiled. “I ask for her input, and she gives it when she can. Nothing special.”

“Uh-huh,” I knew his ass was still gushing over working with her and was trying to play it cool— such a nerd.

I pointed to one of the rooms. “I think your tattoo shop should go here.”

He followed my finger to the corner space on the page.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think you’d like it. Tucked away but still visible.”

“Hm,” He tossed the idea around in his head before ultimately deciding to drop it, gesturing to the model he wanted my opinion on instead. “Seriously, though. You like it?”

I cocked an eyebrow—weird thing to ask.

“I think I’d live in it.” I paused, letting that hang between us. “With a few walk-in closets.”

He sighed dramatically.

See what I mean?

“I knew you were gonna say something about the fucking closets.”

I nudged him with my hip. “They’re essential.”

Theo looked down at me then—really looked—and something shifted in his expression as if he’d just remembered I was standing there, sore and dressed up for him. His eyes flicked over me, and the tension thickened again.

“You wore that in my office?”

I let my coat fall open, just enough for him to recognize his shirt. “I didn’t see a dress code posted anywhere.”

“Panties?”

I eyed him. “Nope. Too sore for those.”

“Liar.”

My nose crinkled up as a teasing grin spread across my face. “They’re red.”

He watched me to see if I was still lying before he leaned down, brushing his lips against my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“I mean, I have some idea.” I beamed. “Want to show me again?”

His hands gripped my waist, possessive but careful.

“I can’t,” he muttered, but he didn’t let go. “I have meetings.”

“Then I won’t keep you,” I said, sliding my arms out of his hold. “We can talk back at home.”

His mouth found my neck—hungry, hot, way too unprofessional. And I melted, just like he knew I would.

“I hate when you do this,” he whispered against my skin.

“Do what?”

“Make me want to clear my whole damn schedule.”

“Well,” I smirked, “that sounds like a you problem.”

He growled softly, forehead pressed to mine. “Go wait in my office. I’ll finish my calls and then…” He paused, eyes dragging down the length of me. “We’ll see how sore you really are.”

I kissed him lightly on the lips—just a taste—before stepping back and smoothing my coat.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, I strutted past his stunned assistant, straight toward his private office, like I owned the whole damn building.

Well, part-owned. Eventually.

I barely made it three steps toward Theo’s private office before a voice stopped me.

“Carmen.”

I turned, mid-strut, already halfway annoyed.

Vince.

He stood near the hallway, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.

Which he wasn’t. His tie was loose, his shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d had a morning, and his eyes were somewhere between sheepish and testing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer, voice low. “If I got you in trouble.”

I gave him a once-over. “You didn’t.”

He looked doubtful. “You sure? ‘Cause Theo looked like he wanted to put me through a window all day.”

“That’s just his face.”

Vince smirked. “Fair. Still, I shouldn’t have—look, I wasn’t trying to stir anything up. I didn’t know it’d turn into a thing.”

I raised a brow. “You didn’t know flirting with me in front of my boyfriend and your boss would turn into a thing?”

“Okay, maybe I had a lapse in judgment.” His smile flickered and faded. “Still. I wasn’t trying to overstep. I meant it when I said I was just being friendly.”

I felt a bit bad.

Doubt: What? Why?

‘Cause. He didn’t mean anything by it.

Doubt: Theo doesn’t see it that way.

Theo is just being… possessive as usual.

Doubt: Hm. Interesting.

What is?

Doubt: He was right. You are naive.

Whatever.

“Maybe next time,” I offered. “Try being friendly from a safe, platonic distance.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but knew better. “He’s protective of you.”

“He is,” I said deadpan.

“I respect that. I do.” He paused. “He’s lucky. You’re… worth protecting.”

I raised a brow. “You flirting again?”

He laughed, then caught himself. “No. No, I’m not. I swear. Just… giving credit where it’s due.”

I tilted my head. “Duly noted.”

He stepped aside. “I’ll let you get to it then.”