Page 85 of Dangerous Seduction

Natalia found her way to my hardening cock. “Because I believe there’s a very important file right here that needs my... close examination.”

Her laughter was like music, a symphony of joy in the middle of the chaos around us. And in that moment, as her warm mouth engulfed the tip of my cock, I knew that no matter what came next, nothing would compare to this.

THIRTY-NINE

NATALIA

“Are we sure about this?” I whispered, giving Dante a sidelong glance as we prowled through the deserted parking lot. The July heat was like a hairy wool blanket, smothering and suffocating, but my pulse was what made me sweat.

Lips pressed in a hard line, Dante didn’t answer, and his silence spoke volumes. We were about to violate the sanctity of a crime scene, but police procedure didn’t factor in our ticking clock. We had to do this.

Before I could second-guess myself into paralysis, Dante had a bump key out, ready to pop the lock on Morrow’s apartment. It only took a gentle click and a deft twist of his wrist, and we were in. The place looked exactly like it did when I was here last: austere, impersonal, and reeking of scotch and cigars.

As I stepped into the living room, the seriousness of what we were doing hit me. We were breaking and entering, tampering with evidence, all in a desperate bid to clear my name and expose Reynolds for the corrupt bastard he truly was.

“Over here,” Dante’s voice cut through the silence, drawing my attention to the far wall where the painting hung, its frame slightly askew.

I moved towards it, my fingers tracing the ornate edges of the frame as I studied it closely. I was right – there was definitely something off about the way it hung, like it had been moved and replaced countless times.

“Help me with this,” I said, as I gestured for Dante to grab the other side of the frame.

Together, we carefully lifted the painting away from the wall, revealing a hidden compartment concealed behind the drywall. My heart leaped into my throat as I caught sight of the weathered manila envelope tucked inside, the words “Reynolds” scrawled across it in Morrow’s familiar handwriting.

“Bingo,” I breathed, my fingers trembling as I pulled the envelope free and checked the insides.

Dante’s arm snaked around my waist, his body warm and solid against my back as he peered over my shoulder. “Is that it? The file on Reynolds?”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion as I clutched the envelope to my chest. “Yeah, this is it. Our smoking gun.”

A tense silence settled over us as we stood there. This was it – the key to exposing Reynolds’ corruption, and bringing down the man who had orchestrated this entire nightmare.

“We need to get out of here,” Dante said, as he guided me towards the door. “Before someone shows up and catches us red-handed.”

I didn’t need to be told twice, and my feet carried me forward with a renewed sense of purpose. We slipped out of the apartment, retracing our steps with the same stealth that had brought us here, and made our way back to the safety of Dante’s yacht.

As the familiar surroundings of the cabin enveloped us, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. We were safe, at least for the moment, and we had the evidence we needed to bring Reynolds to his knees.

With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and pulled out the contents to show Dante. This was it. It was all here – copies of encrypted communications, financial ledgers detailing offshore accounts and wire transfers, coded records of meetings and transactions, a damning dossier that laid bare Reynolds’ decades-long tenure as a cartel mole.

“Holy shit,” he said, his voice barely audible as I flipped through the pages, each one more incriminating than the last.

Dante’s arm tightened around my waist as he continued to study the documents over my shoulder. “We need to move fast,” he said. “As soon as Reynolds catches wind that there’s a copy of the file, he’ll stop at nothing to bury it.”

I nodded as I met his gaze. “We go straight to the US Attorney’s Office. Get them to issue a warrant and watch the dominoes fall.”

A fire burned bright within me, a fierce, unquenchable blaze that would consume everything in its path. Reynolds had made a grave mistake in underestimating me, in thinking that he could silence me with threats and intimidation.

He was about to learn just how wrong he was.

My heart raced as Dante, and I strode through the imposing doors of the US Attorney’s Office, Morrow’s file heavy in my hands. This was it – our one chance to clear my name and bring Reynolds and the entire corrupt edifice crumbling down around him.

The receptionist eyed us warily as we approached, no doubt taking in our disheveled appearance and the grim determination etched into our faces. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone politely skeptical.

“We need to see the head prosecutor. Immediately,” I stated, my voice firm. “It’s a matter of national security.”

She opened her mouth to protest or demand some form of identification, but the look on Dante’s face must have given her pause. She picked up her phone, and a minute later, with a curt nod, she gestured towards the elevators. “Fourth floor. They’ll be expecting you.”

The ride up to the fourth floor was tense, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the elevator’s machinery. Dante’s hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with my own in a silent show of solidarity. I drew strength from his touch, from the unwavering conviction that burned within him.

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