"So..." he said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl, "what are you going to do with this?"
Louisa remained frozen for a long mont. Her mind was clearly racing.
"You... you’re serious," she whispered, almost to herself. "You really want... all of us?"
Julian’s hand on her hip tightened, pulling her even closer so there was no space left between their bodies.
"Deadly serious," he replied. "I’ve wanted Olivia for a long ti. Vanessa too. And now... I want you as well. All of you. On your knees. On your backs. Begging. Moaning."
Louisa’s breath hitched audibly at the bluntness of his words. Her hands, which had been resting on his chest, clenched slightly into the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the hard line of his body against hers, the heat radiating from him and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach.
For a mont, she looked like she might pull away.
...
But she didn’t.
Instead, she let out a shaky, breathless laugh, her forehead resting against his shoulder for a second as she tried to regain so composure.
"You are... truly shaless," she whispered, her voice trembling. "To say sothing like that to your own aunt."
She lifted her head again, her eyes eting his.
"And what makes you think I would ever agree to sothing so... depraved?" she asked, though her body remained pressed tightly against his.
Julian’s hand that was resting on her hip slowly moved lower.
"Mmmh..."
A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her lips. She quickly bit down on her lower lip to stifle it, but the sound had already slipped out. Her cheeks burned hotter as she felt his palm slide down the curve of her waist, tracing the flare of her hip before continuing downward.
He stopped just above the swell of her backside, his fingers hovering there for a heartbeat, teasing the boundary.
"Stop from moving forward," he said, his voice low and commanding, almost a dare.
As soon as those words left his mouth, his hand descended fully. It rested on her ass now, cupping the firm, round cheek through the thin erald fabric of her skirt. For a mont, his palm simply stayed there, as if testing whether she would truly push him away.
Then, slowly, he squeezed.
"Hm..."
Louisa exhaled deeply. The pressure of his hand was firm, confident, and unmistakably hungry.
She could feel every finger pressing into the soft flesh of her ass, kneading it with slow, teasing motion. The sensation sent a hot shiver racing up her spine, making her thighs clench together instinctively.
However,
She didn’t push him away.
She didn’t step back.
She simply stood there, leaning slightly into him, her heart hamring wildly as his hand continued to explore and squeeze with growing possessiveness.
"You can leave as well," Julian said quietly, his breath warm against her ear. "I won’t call you back."
His hand gave another firm squeeze and this ti his fingers dug in deeper. The movent caused the slit in her skirt to open wider, exposing more of her smooth thigh and the curve where her ass t her leg.
Louisa’s breathing had grown ragged. Her lips were parted, her eyes half-lidded as conflicting emotions warred inside her.
Humiliation. Arousal. Anger at her own body for reacting so strongly. And a strange, dark thrill at being touched like this by him — by her nephew-by-marriage, in a private room, while her husband plotted elsewhere in the castle.
She didn’t move an inch.
A long, heavy silence stretched between them.
Finally, Louisa spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Promise ..."
Julian’s hand stopped moving on her ass. He pulled back slightly, creating a small distance between their bodies so he could look at her properly.
"Promise...?" he asked, his tone steady and composed once more. "What should I promise you?"
Sensing that his voice had returned to its usual calm and controlled tone, Louisa took a deep breath. She hurriedly adjusted her dress, pulling the corset back into place and smoothing the erald skirt down over her thighs to cover the revealing slit.
She then looked up at him.
"I want Marcus to beco the heir of the duchy," she said, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "So... promise that you will not compete for that position and let him succeed."
Julian raised an eyebrow at that.
Since he was not truly "Kraven," he had zero interest in the seat of heir. Moreover, once he gathered enough clues about the Servant of Death, he planned to discard this body entirely and return to his real life.
The thought made his mind wander for a brief mont — to his sister Eva, and his three daughters: Seraphine, Lyanna, and Cassandra. A soft, genuine smile blood across his face as he rembered them.
That smile, however, made Louisa instantly wary.
"What?" she asked quickly, her voice rising with uncertainty. "Are you really planning to take over the duchy?"
She searched his face, trying to read the aning behind that unexpected smile. For a mont, she feared he had been playing her all along.
anwhile,
Julian’s smile lingered for a second longer before he shook his head slowly.
"My interest depends upon what you are willing to put on the line," he said, sitting back down in the chair.
"If you put less on the line, then I might genuinely develop a new interest to take over the duchy."
He paused, letting the words sink in, then added with a faint, dangerous smile:
"It’s up to you, my dear Aunty."
Louisa rolled her eyes, though the gesture lacked real annoyance. Instead, it carried a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusent.
"Oh, co on," she said, her voice dripping with mock frustration. "You have been frank the whole ti. You don’t have to be cryptic all of a sudden. I know what you want."
She glanced around the room once, as if checking for any hidden eyes or ears, then finally looked back at him.
"If you promise that... you can have ," she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Anyway you want."
Julian’s eyes glittered at that.
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