Velvet hated unannounced visitors. Her home was not just an apartment; it was her fortress, her studio, the carefully curated stage from which she ruled her small empire. Yet Sebastian Kane treated boundaries as optional, arriving at her door with the calm confidence of a man who had never once been denied entry anywhere.
He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his presence filling the room as though he were the rightful owner. The faint scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, sharp and commanding. His suit was perfectly cut, dark fabric tailored to highlight his broad shoulders, the gleam of his cufflinks catching the light as he set a black leather folder on her desk.
"Velvet," he greeted smoothly, his voice like velvet draped over steel. "You've been busy."
Velvet leaned against the arm of the sofa, crossing one leg over the other, her expression an effortless mask of indifference. "The numbers speak for themselves."
"Indeed they do," Sebastian agreed, glancing toward her monitors, still alive with the afterglow of her recent stream. "But numbers are fickle. They surge, they vanish. You need something more enduring—structure, permanence. That is where I come in."
Velvet raised a brow, lips curving into a smile that was both polite and mocking. "And here I thought you came here to admire me."
His eyes lingered on her face, unflinching. "Admiration, yes. But admiration without ownership is a wasted sentiment."
The word—ownership—slid into the room like a blade. Velvet felt the air tighten, though her exterior remained calm. She rose gracefully, closing the distance between them. Her perfume drifted between them, sweet and faintly dangerous.
"And what exactly," she asked softly, her fingers brushing the folder he had placed on her desk, "would ownership entail?"
Sebastian opened the folder, spreading the papers across the polished wood. Contracts. Sponsorships. Exclusive deals with brands that would have taken her months—years—to secure on her own. Each page glowed with promises of expansion: guaranteed exposure, international reach, revenue streams that could turn her from a rising star into an untouchable empire.
Velvet skimmed them, her expression unreadable.
"All of this," Sebastian said, his voice low, "in exchange for one thing. You work under my protection. Every brand you touch will be through me, every deal filtered by me. I'll make you untouchable."
Velvet tilted her head, amusement glittering in her eyes. "So, protection… in exchange for control."
His smile sharpened. "You call it control. I call it strategy. Power, shared, is power doubled."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Velvet could hear the faint ticking of the clock on her wall, the rhythm of her own steady breath. Sebastian's confidence was intoxicating, but it was also dangerous. He was the kind of man who never settled for second place.
She stepped closer, her gaze locking on his. "Do you know what happens when power is shared, Sebastian?"
He arched a brow, waiting.
"One side always believes they're holding the reins," she whispered, her voice dipping into silk. "And the other waits patiently… until the reins snap."
His eyes darkened, but not with anger—with intrigue. Sebastian Kane was not used to being challenged, and Velvet knew her words had landed exactly as she intended: not as a rejection, but as an invitation.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. "You're playing a dangerous game."
She smiled, unfazed. "Darling, I am the game."
For a moment, the air between them hummed with tension, a pull that was equal parts threat and desire. Velvet let it linger before she stepped back, her fingers trailing across the edge of the contract. She pushed it lightly toward him.
"Generous as your offer is," she said sweetly, "I've never needed help to ascend. I prefer my wings unbound."
Sebastian studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate calm, he closed the folder and slipped it back into his briefcase.
"Very well," he murmured. "But remember this—wings burn easily when they fly too close to the sun."
Velvet's smile never wavered, though her heart beat faster beneath her ribs. She watched him leave, his footsteps echoing down the hall until the door clicked shut.
Alone again, she allowed her smile to fade.
Sebastian Kane was not a man who accepted rejection gracefully. He was a predator, accustomed to claiming whatever he desired. His warning had not been idle.
Velvet poured herself another glass of wine, her reflection shimmering in the dark window. "Let him think he holds the reins," she murmured. "The tighter his grip, the sweeter it will be to break it."
She lifted the glass in a mock toast to the night. The game had shifted. And if Sebastian Kane wanted to make her untouchable, she would let him try—until the moment came to remind him who truly owned whom.
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