Page 5 of Her Naughty Billionaire

The atmosphere grows thick, the stakes higher than ever. It's more than just a business negotiation now; it's a battle of wills.

“What are your expectations as far as our living arrangements?” she asks, trying to regain some semblance of control over the direction of this conversation.

"You'll move into my penthouse. It'll be easier to maintain appearances."

Sophia's posture stiffens. "On one condition: I get my own suite, and you don't enter it without an invitation."

“I don’t see that being an issue,” I answer with a shrug.

“Meaning?”

A slow smile spreads across my face, the underlying message crystal clear. "Because, Ms. Carter, I have every confidence that, sooner or later, you'll want me there."

For a fleeting moment, I see something akin to anticipation flash in her eyes. "We'll see about that, Mr. Thorn."

“Yes, we will.”

Sophia, clearly aiming to take the reins of the conversation, dives into the core issue. "Let's talk about how the debt gets resolved. If I go through with this, how do you intend to handle the Carter debt?"

I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table, my gaze never leaving hers. "Each year you fulfill the agreement, I'll deduct a million from the Carter debt. Over time, the entire debt will be resolved."

She blinks, processing. "And if I fail to meet the terms or if our 'engagement' doesn’t last?"

"The remainder of the debt stands," I respond coldly. "And if the Carters can't pay up, I'll collect in other ways. Even if it means liquidating every asset the Carters possess."

The threat hangs heavy in the air. Sophia visibly pales but maintains her steely facade. "You wouldn’t dare tarnish the Carter legacy."

"Don't test me, Sophia," I warn, my voice low and foreboding. "I respect the Carter name, but business is business. You don't want to see the lengths I'll go to if I'm pushed."

She gulps, tension radiating from her. "Very well. I agree to the terms. But I want it in writing. Every detail, every condition."

I nod. "Of course. We'll draft a contract detailing the terms and conditions of our agreement. Should either of us fail in our obligations, the consequences will be clearly laid out."

"Good," she says, her voice firm but with an edge of uncertainty. The power dynamics are clear, and while she's holding her own, it's evident that I have the upper hand in this deal.

Which is just the way I like it.

She gracefully pushes her chair back, preparing to take her leave. "It seems we've reached an understanding," she notes, her tone calm despite the weight of our agreement.

I rise from my seat to hold the door open for her—a gentlemanly gesture with an underlying motive.

She approaches slowly, each step deliberate. As she moves past me, the closeness of our bodies is impossible to ignore. We're inches apart, and the pull between us is undeniable. I tilt my head slightly, and she instinctively mirrors the movement, drawn to the magnetic force between us.

Our lips are moments from meeting when I deliberately pull back just a fraction, leaving a charged space between us, thick with anticipation and unfulfilled desires. It's a power play, a statement without words.

She draws in a sharp breath, her eyes darkening. "I’ll have my belongings sent over today,” she says as she slips past, putting space between us. “I’ll see you at your home for dinner tonight.”

“No,” I say, unwilling to give her even that. “We’re going out tonight. I feel like celebrating.”

Chapter 3

Sophia

Thehumofthecity fades as I step through the entrance of "L'Esprit," a sleek, modern restaurant known for its fusion cuisine. It's upscale, but without that snobbish feel of exclusivity some places wear like a badge of honor—Victor’s choice, of course. Perfectly tailored to walk the line between opulence and accessibility.

Much like the man himself.

Victor and I had set clear rules—this was business. But when he'd nearly kissed me after our meeting, the lines between business and something far more dangerous began to blur.

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