Page 10 of Her Naughty Billionaire

I slide my hand up her shirt and feel the warmth of her skin before brushing my fingertips along the side of her breast. She moans softly against my lips, and my cock twitches at the sound.

Suddenly, she pushes me away and steps back, wrapping her arms around herself as her eyes dart around the room. When they find me again, there's a resolve in them that wasn't there before.

"You may have a claim over the Carter debt," Sophia begins, her voice shaky, her face flushed, "but not over my body." She makes to leave, but I can't let her have the last word.

I want to tell her that she’s wrong, but I bite it back and resort instead to being an asshole, which I know is much more in line with her expectations of me. "We have dinner with Whitmore tonight," I call out. With a sardonic smirk, I add, "I'll expect you to be at your best."

She stops in her tracks and turns to glare at me. "That’s two. After tonight, my obligation to you for the week is over," she says icily.

I watch her go, her heels echoing sharply against the polished floors, a poignant reminder of the distance between us. As the silence envelops me, I can't help but berate myself for losing control, for letting emotions cloud my judgment. Yet, beneath the self-reproach, there's an unsettling realization.

Despite my best efforts, Sophia Carter is quickly becoming my most formidable adversary... and my most dangerous weakness.

Chapter 5

Sophia

Themomentthepenthousedoor closes behind me, the weight of the day threatens to drag me down.

I pause to kick off my heels, wincing at the pain they’ve caused. Maybe that’s a good thing—a distraction from thoughts ofhim. My hands grip the straps of my purse a little tighter, thinking about how he ambushed me. The presumption of him showing up, pushing his way into what I've built, making me vulnerable.

And then there was the kiss. I touch my lips, feeling the ghost of his against mine. It felt genuine, but with Victor, there's always another layer. One minute he's warm, drawing me in with those deep blue eyes, and the next he's cold, pushing me away. I want to believe there's more to him than the facade he shows the world, but can I trust him?

More importantly, can I trust myself with him?

My gaze drifts toward the main room, where soft lighting accentuates the lavish decor. And there he is with a glass of wine in hand, conversing animatedly with Harold Whitmore, who sits relaxed in one of the plush chairs. The two men appear deep in conversation, the vast city skyline painting an ethereal scene behind them.

Victor's eyes find mine almost immediately, a smile curving his lips. It's not the predatory grin I've come to associate with our power plays but something gentler, catching me off guard. Before I can react, he's by my side, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around me. He places a glass of wine in my hand.

"Darling, you’re late," he says smoothly, guiding me toward the sitting area.

I glare sideways at Victor before turning a charming smile on Harold Whitmore. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I say with saccharine sweetness.

Harold rises, his voice rich with amusement. "Sophia, I’m so glad to see you again. I can’t believe I forgot to offer you condolences on your father's death when I saw you yesterday."

"Thank you, Harold," I respond, my tone practiced. “We miss him very much.”

Victor's touch lingers on my waist, and Harold chuckles softly. "Sophia, did you know your fiancé is quite the amateur astronomer? We've been discussing our favorite constellations."

A genuine laugh escapes my lips. "Astronomy? Really?" My eyes search Victor's for confirmation.

He shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a sheepish grin. "Everyone needs a hobby, right? Keeps the mind sharp."

I shake my head, playing the part of the amused partner. "And here I thought you spent all your nights plotting your next business conquest."

Harold laughs, raising his glass. "It seems there's much more to Victor than meets the eye. But then, the same could be said for all of us, couldn't it?"

A man wearing a chef's coat steps through the double doors, clearing his throat lightly. "Dinner is served," he announces.

"Excellent." Victor stands, nodding toward the adjacent dining room. "Shall we?"

We all rise, glasses in hand. As I follow the two men, the amber glow from the contemporary chandeliers above illuminates the large mahogany table, perfectly set with pristine white plates, polished silverware, and crystal glasses.

Victor, playing the gracious host, gestures for Harold to take the seat at the head of the table while he takes the one opposite. I find my place to Victor's right.

As we settle in, the server moves efficiently, laying out a beautifully plated appetizer.

Harold glances around appreciatively, raising his glass. "You have impeccable taste, Victor. This place, the food… it's all very impressive."

---