In the Game of Love

Chapter 16

Note: If you are uncomfortable reading sexually explicit content, you can safely skip this chapter. Any major plot points will be recapped in the next chapter.

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The soft click of the door closing behind us seems to echo in the stillness of Sonny's home. We walk through a dark hallway to a small bench and take off our shoes in unison. Priorities.

He leads me through the living room, his hand barely brushing against mine. It's a space that reflects him – elegant, understated, yet with hidden depths. Abstract art adorns the cream walls, adding splashes of color to the otherwise neutral palette. A plush charcoal leather sectional faces floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of the greenery outside. We are far away from the hustle and bustle of central London here.

My gaze lingers on a sleek coffee table, its surface pristine save for a single remote control placed at an exact right angle.

Everything is immaculate, almost too perfect.

Does he even actually live here?

'What?' Sonny asks quietly, coming up close behind me. I turn to see his face lit with amusement, but his eyes are sharp, inquisitive.

A shiver runs through my stomach.

Since we left the party hand-in-hand, all through the ride next to him while he drove us over in his Mercedes, there's been an undercurrent of... something. Nothing overt, but a palpable sense of tension. Now, in the privacy of his apartment, the something seems to be growing by the second.

I take a steadying breath, grounding myself in the present moment.

Sonny shrugs off his jacket, draping it carefully over his arm, still looking at me expectantly.

He really cares about what I think, doesn't he?

'It looks just how I imagined', I quip, recalling his words from his first visit to my apartment.

'Not boring I hope,' he smirks, acknowledging our shared memory.

'We'll have to see,' I answer, hiding my nervousness behind cheek, and glance away.

'By all means,' he waves his free hand. 'Let me give you a tour.'

We go back via the hallway, now lit up. The dining area comes into view, a sleek table surrounded by modern chairs that probably cost more than my monthly rent. The open kitchen beyond is all gleaming stainless steel and pristine marble countertops. He said he didn't cook, but if I were him, I would want to cook in here every day.

I pretend to look at the fixtures minutely, trying to ignore how aware I am of his demanding presence.

'This way,' he points towards the stairs, with a roguish grin.

I hitch up my dress, now trailing behind me sans my heels, as we climb up. Sonny doesn't bother to switch on the lights. My pulse quickens as we navigate in the shadows until we reach an open door.

'My bedroom,' he says, a touch of discomfiture in his voice.

I hesitate at the threshold. It somehow feels like I'm crossing an invisible line.

Stepping in with my heart pounding, the first thing I see is the massive bed dominating the room, its dark leather headboard a stark contrast to crisp white sheets. Small lamps cast a warm glow from the wall on either side of the bed. Another floor-to-ceiling window spans the wall opposite to the bed, but the view is almost completely shielded by a tree, so even with the blinds open there is full privacy.