Scarlett "Red" Valenti's POV
The Manhattan skyline glitters like a taunt outside my penthouse window, but I'm not here for the view tonight. I stand before my full-length mirror, adjusting the deep crimson dress that clings to my curves like a lover's promise. It's a deliberate choice sleeveless, plunging neckline, hugging my full breasts and accentuating the swell of my hips, the hem teasing just above my knees. The fabric shimmers, catching the light, making every move a calculated seduction.
Tonight's a strategy session at Julian's downtown office, and I'm dressing to disarm. If Julian Knight thinks he can unravel me, I'll show him I'm the one pulling the strings.
I let my red hair fall in loose waves, framing my face, and swipe on a bold lipstick to match the dress. My heels black, sky-high click against the marble floor as I grab my clutch and head out. The anonymous texts about Singapore still burn in my mind, but I've got no proof yet, just Lila's digging and my own instincts screaming that Julian's hiding something.
Fine. If he's playing dirty, I'll play dirtier. Let him try to focus when I walk in looking like sin itself.
His office is a sleek fortress of glass and steel, KnightTech's logo glowing in neon blue. The elevator ride to the top floor feels like stepping into a lion's den, but I'm no prey. The doors open, and I stride into the conference room, where Julian's already waiting, leaning against a table littered with project files.
His gray eyes snap to me, and for a split second, his cool facade cracks his jaw tightens, his gaze raking over me, lingering on the way the dress hugs my breasts, the curve of my ass. Got you, Knight.
"Scarlett," he says, his voice low, rougher than usual, like he's fighting for control. "You're… dressed for battle."
I smirk, sauntering closer, letting my hips sway just enough to keep his eyes glued to me. "This is business, Julian," I purr, my voice smooth as silk, dripping with challenge. "But I like to make an impression."
His Adam's apple bobs, and I catch the way his fingers flex against the table, like he's resisting the urge to reach for me. "You're making one," he mutters, his eyes dropping to the neckline of my dress, where it dips low, teasing the swell of my curves. "But don't think this changes the game."
I laugh, low and throaty, stepping close enough that my perfume jasmine and spice wraps around him. "Oh, Julian, I'm not changing the game. I'm winning it." I lean in, just enough that my breath brushes his ear, my curves a whisper from his chest. "Try to keep up."
He freezes, his eyes darkening, a storm brewing behind that calm exterior. I've got him hooked, off-balance, his usual arrogance faltering under the heat of my presence.
I turn, bending slightly to pick up a file from the table, knowing the dress hugs my ass in a way that'll drive him wild. When I glance back, his gaze is locked on me, raw hunger in his eyes, and I feel a thrill of power. This is my turf now.
"Let's talk residential towers," I say, my voice crisp, professional, but my smile is pure provocation. I sit, crossing my legs slowly, letting the hem ride up just enough to show a sliver of thigh. His eyes follow, and I swear I see his hands twitch, like he's fighting not to touch me. "Your AI grid's cute, but my designs are what investors want. Luxury, exclusivity my brand."
He clears his throat, dragging his focus to the files, but his voice is strained. "Your brand's flash, Scarlett. My tech's substance. Investors want innovation, not just pretty buildings."
I lean forward, letting the neckline dip, my breasts framed just right to keep him distracted. "Pretty?" I say, arching a brow, my voice a teasing lilt. "Careful, Knight. You're sounding like you've noticed more than my blueprints."
His jaw clenches, and he leans closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "I notice everything, Scarlett. Especially when you're playing dirty."
I laugh, tossing my hair, letting it cascade over one shoulder, knowing the motion draws his eyes to my curves again. "Dirty? This is just me, Julian. If you can't handle a little heat, maybe you're in over your head."
He stands, circling the table, his presence looming, but I hold my ground, tilting my chin up, meeting his gaze with defiance. He stops inches away, his eyes raking over me, from the plunge of my neckline to the curve of my hips, and I see the battle in him—control versus desire.
"You're pushing me," he says, his voice low, dangerous, but there's a tremor there, a crack I've caused.
I rise, closing the gap, my body brushing just close enough to make him tense. "Good," I whisper, my lips curving into a wicked smile. "I like you pushed, Julian. Makes you almost human."
For a moment, we're frozen, the air thick with tension, my curves a weapon he can't resist. I step back, grabbing my clutch, and saunter toward the door, letting my hips sway, knowing he's watching every move.
"Send me your tech specs by morning," I call over my shoulder, my voice all business but laced with a taunt. "If you can focus long enough to write them."
As the elevator doors close, I catch his reflection in the glass still standing there, eyes burning, hands clenched. I've got him rattled, and it feels like victory. But my heart's pounding, my skin tingling from the game I'm playing. Julian's a danger, and not just because of Singapore's shadows. He's a fire I'm stoking, and I'm not sure if I'm the one in control or if I'm about to get burned.