Edward walked toward the east wing, his footsteps asured against the marble floor.
The sounds reached him long before he reached the door.
Muffled at first. Distant. Then louder with each step.
A woman’s moan... low, desperate, building. The rhythmic creak of furniture under strain. A man’s groan, deep and primal, accompanied by ragged breathing.
Edward’s pace didn’t falter.
The corridor stretched before him, each step bringing the sounds into sharper focus. Flesh eting flesh. Gasps that spiraled higher. A woman’s voice crying out...shaless, desperate, lost in pleasure.
He stopped before the ornate double doors.
Inside, the tempo had increased. Frantic now. Chasing sothing.
"Yes... yes... faster... don’t stop..."
"I’m close... God, I’m so close... don’t you dare stop..."
Edward stood motionless.
Sothing stirred in his chest. Not anger. Not jealousy.
Thrill.
It crawled up his spine like electricity... forbidden, perverse, intoxicating. Goosebumps prickled across his skin. His breath caught for just a mont.
He closed his eyes. Let the sounds wash over him. Let the thrill peak and settle.
Then he cald himself. Steadied his breathing. Smoothed his expression into sothing grandfatherly and benign.
He raised his hand.
Knocked once.
Twice.
Three tis... sharp, insistent, cutting through the heat like a blade.
Silence.
A heartbeat.
Then...
"Are you fucking kidding ?!"
Natalia’s scream tore through the door... equal parts fury and shattered pleasure. The orgasm that had been right there, ripped away at the final mont.
Edward’s lips twitched.
Perfect timing.
He waited. Patient. Hands clasped behind his back.
Footsteps inside. A muttered curse. The rustle of fabric.
The door opened.
Richard stood there, a sheet wrapped hastily around his waist, chest still heaving, skin flushed with exertion. His face was composed... impressively so... but his eyes betrayed a flicker of sothing beneath the mask.
Annoyance. Suspicion. The faintest edge of guilt.
"Yes?" Richard’s voice was cool, controlled. "What seems to be the matter, Mr. Steele?"
Edward smiled warmly.
"Forgive the interruption, Mr. Blackwood." His tone carried nothing but polite apology. "But I’m afraid sothing urgent has co up."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Sothing that cannot wait."
Richard’s jaw tightened. For a mont, irritation flickered openly across his features.
"I’m coming," he said curtly.
The door closed.
***
Inside, Richard exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
"What happened?"
Natalia’s voice ca from the bed... languid, curious, tinged with frustration. She lay tangled in the sheets, skin still flushed, watching him with half-lidded eyes.
"It’s Jonathan." Richard reached for his shirt, pulling it on with sharp, efficient movents. "It must be sothing serious. He wouldn’t interrupt otherwise."
Natalia’s lips curved into a pout.
"Now? Of all monts?"
"I have to go."
He fastened his trousers, tucked in his shirt, straightened his collar. Every motion practiced. Controlled. Erasing the evidence of what had transpired.
Natalia rose from the bed, the sheet falling away as she crossed to him. She didn’t bother covering herself.
Her hands found his chest, smoothing the fabric of his shirt.
"We’ll have other monts," she murmured, eyes lifting to et his. "Many of them."
She rose on her toes and kissed him... slow, lingering, a promise wrapped in warmth.
Richard allowed it. Even returned it, briefly.
Then he pulled back, a flicker of thought crossing his features.
"Do you think Edward knows?" His voice dropped lower. "I an... he must have heard. We weren’t exactly... quiet."
Natalia laughed softly, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.
"You were too excited to notice," she whispered. "But don’t worry. That old man heard nothing he could recognize."
She smiled.
"I made sure of it."
Her eyes glinted with mischief.
"And what if he did hear?"
Richard’s jaw tightened, uncertainty flickering.
Natalia traced a finger down his chest.
"What can he do, Richard?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You’re the future head of House Blackwood. That old man needs you far more than you need him."
Richard’s posture shifted. Straightened. The doubt fading, replaced by sothing harder.
"You’re right."
Natalia smiled... the smile of a woman who knew exactly which strings to pull.
"I’m always right."
Richard exhaled. Nodded once.
"I should go."
Natalia’s fingers traced his jaw one last ti.
"Don’t keep waiting too long," she said, a smile curving her lips. "Or I’ll have to punish you next ti."
Richard huffed a quiet laugh. Nodded once. And turned toward the door.
He didn’t look back.
But Natalia’s eyes followed him... watched the door close, watched the silence settle.
Then her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
Mischievous. Triumphant.
She returned to the bed, stretching like a satisfied cat, and stared at the ceiling.
***
Richard entered the study with asured strides, his composure fully restored. Only the faint flush at his collar betrayed anything at all.
Jonathan stood by the window. Edward sat in his chair, tea untouched, watching with polite curiosity.
"What is it?" Richard’s voice was clipped. Businesslike.
Jonathan crossed the room and leaned close, voice dropping to a whisper.
A na. A detail. Brief. Clipped.
Richard’s expression didn’t change.
But his body went still.
"Who?" The word ca out quiet. Dangerous. "How?"
"I don’t know yet, sir." Jonathan’s tone was grim. "But we need to investigate imdiately. This is serious."
A pause. Jonathan glanced toward Edward, then back to Richard.
"We can also use this. Position the Blackwells as allies in resolving the situation. Turn the ss into leverage."
Richard absorbed the words. Calculated. Then nodded slowly.
He turned toward Edward, his mask sliding back into place... smooth, grateful, apologetic.
"Mr. Steele." He inclined his head respectfully. "I’m afraid an urgent matter requires my imdiate attention. We’ll have to continue our discussion another ti."
Edward rose, spreading his hands graciously.
"Of course, Mr. Blackwood. Duty calls. I understand completely."
Richard’s gaze drifted... just for a mont... toward the corridor leading to the east wing.
Toward the room where Natalia waited.
Then he turned and walked toward the entrance, Jonathan falling into step beside him.
Edward accompanied them to the gates, ever the gracious host.
The limousine waited, engine purring softly.
Richard paused at the door, offering a final nod.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Steele. As always."
"The pleasure is entirely mine, Mr. Blackwood." Edward’s smile was warm. Fatherly. "Do take care of yourself. And please... don’t be a stranger."
The door closed. The limousine pulled away, gliding through the gates and disappearing down the long drive.
Edward watched until it vanished from sight.
Then his smile changed.
Warr faded. Fatherly dissolved.
What remained was sothing sharper.
Darker.
Hunger.
His breath quickened. His pulse stirred with an ache he’d been suppressing since he stood outside that door, listening to every moan, every cry, every sound of another man claiming what was his.
He turned and walked back into the mansion.
His footsteps quickened as he crossed through the halls. The servants had vanished... trained well enough to know when to disappear. The corridor to the east wing stretched empty before him.
He didn’t slow down.
He didn’t knock this ti.
The door swung open.
Natalia lay tangled in the sheets, exactly where Richard had left her. Flushed. Disheveled. The bedsheet pulled loosely across her body, hiding nothing of consequence.
She looked up at him with a slow, knowing smile.
"That was faster than expected."
Edward’s eyes moved over her... the marks on her neck, the swollen lips, the evidence of another man’s hands written across her skin.
His breath quickened.
He crossed the room in three strides, shedding his jacket, his shirt, his restraint.
Natalia laughed... low, throaty, welcoming.
"Eager today, aren’t we?"
He reached the bed. Reached for her.
But when he moved to climb above her, her hand pressed flat against his chest... firm, commanding.
"No."
She pushed him down onto the mattress, reversing their positions in one fluid motion. Her thighs straddled his waist. Her fingers found him, gripped him, held him captive.
Her eyes locked onto his.
"You made wait," she murmured. "Made perform. Made scream for another man while you listened outside the door."
Her grip tightened. Edward’s breath hitched.
"Now you wait for ."
She moved above him... slow, deliberate, controlled.
Edward’s hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, surrendering to her rhythm.
"You know," Natalia said, voice conversational despite her movents, "this arrangent of yours is exhausting."
"Is it?" Edward managed, breath ragged.
"Mmm." She rolled her hips, drawing a groan from him. "Playing the devoted wife. Seducing ambitious young n. Letting them think they’ve conquered sothing."
She leaned down, lips brushing his ear.
"All so my husband can get hard."
Edward’s laugh ca out strangled.
"As if... you don’t enjoy it."
Natalia straightened, smile sharp.
"I never said I didn’t."
She increased her pace. Edward’s eyes rolled back.
"But let’s be honest," she continued, breathless now herself. "This isn’t just for you. I see how you watch. How you listen."
Her nails raked down his chest.
"You need this. Need to know another man has touched . Tasted . Been inside ."
She gripped his jaw, forcing his eyes to et hers.
"And I need to know you’re listening. That every sound I make reaches you. That you’re hard and waiting while I..."
Edward surged upward, capturing her mouth, silencing her with a desperate kiss.
She laughed against his lips and pushed him back down.
"Not yet," she whispered. "You haven’t earned it."
***
Later, they lay tangled together, breathing slowing, the air thick with satisfaction and secrets.
Natalia traced idle patterns on his chest.
"He’s falling for it, you know."
"Richard?" Edward’s voice carried lazy amusent. "Of course he is. They always do."
"He thinks I’m rebelling against you. That I’m his conquest." She laughed softly. "n are so predictable."
Edward turned his head, eting her eyes.
"And you? What do you think?"
Natalia’s smile turned sharp.
"I think we’re both getting exactly what we want."
She kissed him once... brief, possessive.
"And I think the ga is just beginning."
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