𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘽𝙄𝘿𝘿𝙀𝙉 [𝟭𝟴+]

Thirteen

The lecture hall feels even more suffocating today than usual.

It's not the long, monotonous lecture or the dry PowerPoint slides that have me fidgeting in my seat. It's Damon. His presence. The heat of his gaze across the room. I can feel his eyes on me even when I'm not looking.

His words from last time still echo in my head: "Don't start something you won't last through, love."

He thinks I'm playing a game I can't finish. He's wrong. This game? I'm in control.

As I make my way into the classroom, the heels of my boots click with a rhythm that's almost too deliberate. I'm not rushing. There's no need. I know what I want, and I'm not about to let him forget that.

When I spot Damon at the front of the class, it's like the air between us crackles with anticipation. He's leaning against the lectern, a pen idly twirling between his fingers. His dark eyes flick up from his notes just as I enter the room, and for a brief moment, everything else fades. His gaze locks onto mine, sharp and knowing.

I give him a small, slow smile—the kind that only he can see. It's playful, but it carries a hint of something deeper. Something dangerous. I feel his eyes narrow, like he's sizing me up, wondering if I'm serious about this. He doesn't know it yet, but I'm way past serious.

I take my usual seat in the back, but I don't stay still. Not today. Today, I cross my legs with a languid stretch, making sure the movement catches his eye. I can almost hear his breath catch as his gaze drops to my exposed skin, just a hint of my thigh peeking out from beneath my skirt.

When class begins, I'm half-listening to the lecture, half watching him, waiting for the moment when he breaks. He can't seem to resist the pull.

And it doesn't take long.

"Aurelia," he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. I don't look up at first, pretending I haven't heard him, letting the tension build. "You've been awfully quiet today. Something on your mind?"

I look up slowly, meeting his gaze. I can feel the intensity of it, but I don't look away. Instead, I smile again—a little more wicked this time.

"Just thinking," I say, letting the words slip out with a hint of seduction in my tone. "About how business can be... flexible. How we all bend the rules when it suits us. When the payoff is worth it."

I lean back in my seat, letting my body move with purpose. My fingers trail slowly over the desk, drawing circles in the wood, just to tease him. His eyes follow the movement, and I watch as his jaw tightens. The man is trying so hard to stay professional. But I can see it.

The struggle.

I slide my legs slightly further apart, just enough to give him a glimpse of my ankle, the line of my calf. It's subtle, but it's enough to make his breath hitch. His eyes flicker down for the briefest second before he's staring at me again, his expression unreadable.

But I know. I know he can feel the heat between us.

I raise an eyebrow, pretending to consider his earlier question. "Flexibility in business is essential, don't you think? Sometimes, you need to get... creative with your approach. Just like in life."

I let the words hang in the air, dripping with meaning.

His gaze deepens, and for the first time, I see a flash of something darker in his eyes—desire, maybe. Or challenge. He leans forward slightly, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Interesting theory. But let's see if you can back it up when the pressure's on."

I'm not sure if he's testing me or tempting me.

Maybe both. But either way, I'm not backing down.

After Class...

The moment the lecture ends, I make sure to wait.

I let the other students filter out of the room first. I sit there, casually scrolling through my phone, letting the minutes pass, making sure Damon has nowhere to go but here. The clock ticks on, and when I stand up, I do it slowly. I move with purpose. Every step deliberate, but never rushed.

I glance over at him as I gather my things. His gaze is already on me, like he's been waiting. His dark eyes never leave me, and I can see the subtle shift in his body as he straightens, just slightly, like he's trying to keep his distance.

But I'm not letting him have that luxury. Not today.

I walk toward him, slow and confident, my heels clicking against the floor with each step. I pass his desk, and as I do, I let my fingers trail along the edge of it. Just a soft, teasing brush that I know he notices. His eyes flicker down to my hand before snapping back up to meet mine.

I stop in front of him, just close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off me. Close enough that he can smell the soft, intoxicating scent of my perfume—a mix of jasmine and something darker, like sandalwood, just enough to make his senses tighten.

"You know," I say, my voice low and soft, deliberately seductive, "You were right about one thing. Business strategy is all about control."

I take a small step forward, closing the distance just enough that I'm nearly pressed against him. "But," I continue, my lips curling into a slow, knowing smile, "it's also about knowing when to let go. And how to make someone else lose their control."

I watch as his breath catches in his throat, his eyes darkening, but he doesn't pull back. In fact, he seems to lean in a little, just a fraction. He's fighting it. But I know I've got him.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Aurelia," he says, his voice rougher than before, like he's struggling to keep it even.

I lean in closer, just enough that he can feel my breath against his skin. "I like dangerous games."

I see him stiffen, but there's something else there, something almost primal in his gaze, something that tells me he's not sure whether he's going to fight me or give in.

Either way, I've already won. The thrill of that knowledge shoots through me like a drug.

With one final, lingering look, I pull back. I let my fingers trail across the edge of his desk one more time, just before I walk away.

And I know I've left him with one thought: He's never going to be able to resist me.

The game is only just beginning.