Eva’s POV

He noticed me the moment I stepped onto the rooftop.

That was the plan.

The night clung to the city like perfume—rich, seductive, heavy with secrets. Manhattan lights blinked behind me like a million hungry eyes, but it was his gaze I wanted. Xavier Cole. CEO of Argent Holdings. The man who’d destroyed my father’s life with one smear campaign and a signature.

I spotted him near the bar—tailored to the gods, scotch in hand, surrounded by other rich elites like in a meeting of some sort. But his eyes flicked toward me the moment I walked in, lingering too long, slow and hungry, like he knew my body before ever touching it.

He didn’t recognize me. Not yet.

I wore a black satin dress that dipped between my breasts and slit up high on one thigh. No bra. No panties. The tattoo on my hip—a faint, sweeping line of ink—peeked out just enough to tempt. It was the same tattoo he saw years ago during a one-night stand he probably never forgot. I made sure of it.

I waited until he was alone to approach. My heels clicked softly over the tiles, my steps measured and confident.

“You look like you’re enduring this party,” I said with a teasing smile.

He turned, eyes dipping immediately to my cleavage, then lower. “And you look like the only reason I should stay.”

He didn’t even try to hide it. I liked that. Arrogance made him easier to manipulate.

We flirted through champagne and layered innuendo. His voice was low, smoky—so sure of himself. I let him think he was seducing me, let my fingers graze his thigh just once, just enough to make him hard under that suit.

He invited me back to his place. I didn’t hesitate.

His penthouse was glass, steel, and power. The moment the door shut behind us, he shoved me up against it. His mouth crushed mine, hot and desperate. His hands gripped my ass, squeezing tight, then slid up my sides, pushing the straps of my dress off my shoulders.

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he murmured, biting my lip. “You wanted me the second you walked in.”

I smirked against his mouth. “What if I did?”

He groaned and ripped the dress off entirely, eyes darkening as he took me in. “No fucking panties? Jesus Christ. You definitely are trouble”

He dropped to his knees and buried his face between my thighs before I could say another word. His tongue was wicked—circling, flicking, plunging until my knees buckled. I moaned loud, fingers in his hair, grinding against his face until I came shaking, on his mouth. He seemed to like that. I could tell with the smirk on his face.

He stood, licking me off his lips, and growled, “Turn around.”

I obeyed, planting my palms on the back of the couch, ass in the air. He yanked my hair hard, arching my back, exposing my throat. I whimpered.

“I want you like this,” he said, lining himself up. “Open. Dripping. Ready.”

When he slammed into me, I cried out so loud I was sure the neighbors heard. He didn’t ease in—he took. His hand clutched a fistful of my hair, pulling back, and the other grabbed my breasts from underneath, squeezing roughly as he fucked me from behind. He grabbed them both before pinching on the nearest and I couldn’t help but moan with pleasure and pain.

“God, you feel—fuck,” he groaned. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

I was no virgin but then I did come prepared making sure I was irresistible to not everyone but him.

He thrust harder, deeper, filling me over and over, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room. I pushed back against him, wild, needy. I wanted it rough. I wanted to feel him tomorrow.

“Faster,” I gasped. “Harder. Don’t hold back. Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!”

He obeyed, slamming into me, bending me further over the couch until my nipples grazed the fabric. He pinched one again, twisted it, and I screamed. The pain mingled with pleasure, sharp and hot.

I reached back, pulling his face down to mine, and sank my teeth into the back of his neck, right near the shoulder. A claiming. A warning. A mark.

He cursed violently and thrust even deeper. “Fucking hell.”

I clenched around him and came with a broken moan, my legs trembling. A second later, he gripped my hips, slammed into me hard, and exploded inside me with a ragged growl.

We collapsed forward together, panting.

For a long moment, we just breathed—him still inside me, both of us slick with sweat and sex.

Eventually, he slid out and pulled me down onto the couch beside him. I curled up, letting my body stay soft and pliant, watching the way he looked at me with lazy satisfaction.

He had no idea who I was.

He pulled a throw over us and drifted to sleep with a hand on my thigh still holding on.

I waited until his breathing deepened. Then I eased his arm off me and stood.

The view from his windows stretched across the glittering city. I walked toward it naked, unashamed, the lights reflecting against my bare skin. My silhouette, sexy and mysterious behind me. It passed across his face and he moved but didn’t wake.

On his nightstand, his Argent Holdings cufflinks gleamed in the dark.

That symbol used to terrify me. Now it only excites me.

Tomorrow, I will be in his office with a fake résumé and a flawless backstory. I’d sit across from him in pencil skirts and lipstick, and he’d never guess he’d already fucked the woman who came to destroy him.

I slid into my dress, slipped on my heels, and ran my fingers through my tangled hair.

He stirred once again, but didn’t wake.

As I stepped into the elevator, the door closed behind me, I whispered to the empty hall:

“Let the game begin.”