Natty bent her head low, staring blankly at her glass of wine like a scientist waiting for a chemical change.
"I know it sounds envious. Maybe even stupid," she admitted, "but I really feel alone. And heartbroken."
Tony was momentarily baffled.
Things were unfolding exactly as he planned, yet that last revelation caught him off guard. Her expectation that her fiancé would inherit the COO position was something he had not anticipated.
Of course, he already knew.
Her fiancé was Dean Jackson. Manniak had told him. The son of the former COO, the late Dr. Dean Thomas.
But Tony played it cool. Perfectly.
"What do you mean?" he asked calmly, feigning ignorance with precision. "That you expected your fiancé to be COO after his father?"
Natty chuckled despite herself.
"You really meant it when you said you don't know anything about your mother's company, Tom."
Tony feigned embarrassment.
In truth, he knew far more than he let on. Being a former drug addict did not mean he was stupid. He worked here. He understood everything, including the systems, the people, the hierarchies, and every other detail.
But ignorance, he knew, could be seductive.
"Well, it's not like I know nothing," he replied, scratching the back of his neck lightly. "I know it's a hair-care company."
The way he said it was simple and almost foolish, and it made Natty laugh. Her mood lifted slightly.
Tony seized the opening.
"Look," he began, his face tightening with sincerity, "I never asked for any of this. And I'm sorry if I ruined your chance, your hus…"
He cleared his throat.
"Your husband's chance of being COO or whatever."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But why be with a poor jerk of a fiancé," he said softly and dangerously, "when you could be with me?"
The air grew tense.
But not as tense as Tony expected, because Natty responded almost immediately.
First, she placed her second hand gently over his, stacking her warmth atop his grip. Then she spoke.
"He's lazy," she admitted quietly. "And I'm willing to be with you."
Tony felt a flicker of disappointment.
A part of him had expected her to defend Dean, to argue, to cling to loyalty.
But what was he thinking? She was not loyal. She was a vixen.
Dean Jackson was not poor either, just not obscenely rich. He was hardworking and decent, a man fate had cruelly cursed with Natty Adriana.
And Tony knew Dean had no idea about the affairs, about how she was flaunting herself with men like some free soul without restraint.
However, though Natty was genuinely falling for him, Tony saw it only as a job well done.
Still committed to his mission and loyal to his promise of ruining her, he gently lifted his free hand and caressed her cheek slowly and deliberately.
"Fate works in mysterious ways," he said reassuringly. "And I'm sure meeting today is one of those mysteries that finally found its answer."
A radiant grin spread across Natty's face, though it paled compared to the joy blooming inside her chest.
It was then Tony noticed the party again. The music had shifted, and people were dancing.
Perfect timing, he thought.
"You know," he said smoothly, "I always thought I was the loneliest man alive until I met you."
Natty laughed shyly, her eyes locked onto his.
Tony stood, adjusted his suit, and extended his hand.
"Come on, Natty," he said. "What do you say we dance our loneliness away together?"
She gasped softly, one hand flying to her chest while that beautiful smile never left her face. She placed her other hand into Tony's palm.
With a theatrical flourish that matched the rhythm of the song, Tony drew her up.
She stumbled slightly, thinking she might fall, but Tony kept her perfectly balanced.
His hand settled at her waist, resting subtly against her curve. Natty looped her arms around his shoulders, and together they swayed, their bodies moving in quiet harmony.
"You're so beautiful," Tony finally said.
Natty giggled, cheeks flushed, their eyes locked in an intimate silence.
As they danced, Manniak's voice echoed inside Tony's mind.
Tony, for someone with no past record of seduction, you really handled this perfectly tonight.
Tony chuckled inwardly.
"I prefer being called Mr. Quin," he replied mentally. The correction doubled as a thank-you.
But Mr. Quin, Manniak continued.
Tony hummed in response.
I don't think you should have told her about the past life of this host body. She might take advantage of it.
Tony smiled, the expression slipping onto his face without him noticing.
"Manniak," he replied calmly, "that was the plan."
He continued inwardly.
"I realized that if you want a woman to use you, all you have to do is show her your weak spots and your insecurities."
How is that a good plan? Manniak asked, genuinely confused.
"Well," Tony answered, his eyes never leaving Natty, "as much as she's fallen for me, I'd like to believe she now sees me as someone careless. Someone who doesn't give a damn. Someone who doesn't even want to care."
He smirked inwardly.
"Why would she hesitate? I already told her I don't care about the company or being COO."
"So now," he continued, "as a vixen, she'll take advantage of that."
He paused.
"And then," Tony concluded, "comes my next plan."
"Why are you so smiley?" Natty asked, her voice light and carrying a soft chuckle that brushed the air like silk.
Tony, who had been smiling far too happily over an evil little masterpiece forming neatly in his mind, was almost caught off guard.
Almost.
But not entirely.
The smile slipped from his face as if it had been erased mid-thought.
"Ahh," he quavered, then cleared his throat. Slowly and deliberately, he allowed the smile to curl back onto his lips. This time it was not wicked. It was warm, calm, and disarmingly human.
He centered himself, smoothed the tension from his voice, and replied, "Are you really asking me that?"
Natty raised a brow, a single elegant arch loaded with curiosity.
Tony caught it immediately and, understanding what the gesture demanded, leaned closer and explained, "Who wouldn't?" he coaxed, wearing a beguiling smirk. "I mean, unless someone is too blind to see that beauty right there dancing with me."
Natty giggled shyly, her lashes dipping as she angled her gaze downward to avoid his eyes. Her cheeks bloomed pink, soft and unmistakable, and she was certain Tony noticed.
He did.
Tony retained his smirk. He knew his presence unsettled her, and he knew it shook her balance in the sweetest way. Truth be told, he enjoyed every second of it.
Just then, the rhythm of the ball changed.
The music melted from its lively tempo into something smoother and deeper. The drums softened, the strings stretched longer, and each note rolled like a slow heartbeat. It was the kind of rhythm meant for close steps, whispered spins, and stolen breaths, a melody that demanded trust between partners.
"Alright, Natty," Tony said suddenly, his voice low and sure. "I love this part of the music. Make it count for me."
Before Natty could even respond, Tony guided her gently backward. He lifted her hand and spun her into a perfect, graceful circle.
Natty, drawn fully into the dance and unprepared yet instinctive, improvised beautifully. Her sway was dangerously sexy as she turned, her hips flowing with the music. Her high heel, which should have been an imminent threat, instead became her guide, tapping perfectly in time.
It appeared she knew the dance.
Because when she completed the spin, she leaned back, completely surrendering herself to him.
Tony caught her effortlessly, a firm arm locking around her waist. Their movement was seamless, a flawless collaboration, as though rehearsed a thousand times.
For a heartbeat, the world paused.
All attention seemed to narrow to just them.
They remained in that position with eyes locked and words forgotten, breath rising and falling in unison as their souls drifted dangerously close.
Something stirred inside Natty. A sharp and electric spike of emotion, warm, thrilling, and unexpected, startled her.
It had not even been an hour.
And yet, she wanted him.
Badly.
Meanwhile, Tony anchored himself to the floor and, with effortless precision, prepared to pull her upright when a sudden voice echoed.
[You have activated more access to the Gilded Paramour, Natty Adriana.
The words hit.
Immediately and without hesitation, the familiar sensation followed.
Time slowed as the world stretched unnaturally, and everything dragged at the worst possible moment.
"Manniak!" Tony bellowed inwardly as alarm crashed through him. Not now.
The sensation vanished as suddenly as it came, but not without consequence. The disruption left his stamina shaken and his balance rattled, as though the ground itself had shifted beneath him.
The energy he had calculated perfectly to lift Natty with ease was intercepted by Manniak's disruption of the natural flow. What should have been smooth became incomplete.
He pulled her up only halfway.
Her high heels slid against the polished floor, and her balance betrayed her.
She fell.
Tony lunged forward instinctively. The impact startled a passing lady carrying a tray of empty glass tumblers. The tray slipped, and the glasses shattered violently against the floor.
But Tony caught Natty just in time.
Unfortunately, a shard of glass bounced upward and sliced the skin just above her ankle.
Gasps filled the air.
Dancers froze mid-step, conversations died mid-sentence, and heads turned. Even those who had not seen it felt the tension ripple outward, drawn by the collective gasp.
"Oh my God," some whispered, hands flying to their mouths.
"Are you okay?" others asked, faces creased with concern.
"Argh," Natty panted, pain tightening her voice as she looked down. Blood stained her fair, soft skin.
Tony held her steady with his right hand and turned briefly to the shaken lady, whose hands trembled empty.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
The woman nodded frantically, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's alright," Tony said calmly. "Just clean this up."
Then he turned back to Natty.
Sliding his left arm beneath her legs and bracing his right hand at her waist, he lifted her effortlessly.
"Out of my way," he called firmly as he moved through the gathered crowd, carrying her toward the banquet hall doors and out.
Natty wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Perfectly balanced in his arms despite the pain, she smiled inwardly and wished the moment would last forever.
She thanked fate silently for bringing him to her tonight. Her eyes never left his face. She saw the care there, the focus, the concern, and it made her heart ache.
God, she wanted him.
She wanted to belong to him.
Tony, oblivious to her spiraling fantasies, carried her down the hallway, ignoring the strange and unsettled stares from loiterers. The corridor led to his formal office, the one he used back when he served as Operations and Strategic Finance Manager for her mother's hair-care empire before being announced COO.
Luckily, it was not far.
With a sharp left turn, they stopped before a plain brown, smooth-finished door. Tony nudged it open with a gentle kick.
Inside, he carried Natty straight to his desk and lowered her carefully onto the padded edge where she could sit comfortably.
Silently, he cleared the desk, moving the computer, keyboard, folders, files, and loose papers aside with efficient purpose.
Natty watched quietly. Something warm bubbled low in her stomach, and she knew it was entirely because of him.
Now alone, she tried not to cradle expectations.
It felt as though emotional shyness itself was the gravity holding them to the earth.
Tony removed his suit jacket.
Natty's heart skipped four massive beats.
A shiver raced through her body, centered low and intense, and she crossed her legs instinctively.
Tony loosened his tie and then untucked his shirt.
Natty struggled to breathe.
The silence crawled across her skin.
Then came the sound of fabric tearing.
Tony ripped a long strip from his shirt.
Gently, he stepped closer, offered a brief grin, and knelt before her.
Calmly, he lifted her leg and wrapped the cloth around the cut with practiced ease, his hands steady and his pressure careful. He treated the injury as something both delicate and important.
Natty was stunned.
As disappointed as she was that his movements had not led where she had imagined, this was more.
Far more.
She did not even want to think about how expensive that shirt was.
And he ruined it for her.
She could not hold it in anymore.
"You know," she said softly, breaking the silence, "for someone as rich as you are, you really understand hard work."
[And apparently you know your way around a woman] Manniak snapped in, almost like a confession. [God I already feel horny]
Tony chuckled inwardly, his eyes flicking up briefly before returning to his task. "I didn't know you could feel that Manniak." He replied mentally.
He tied the cloth neatly.
"Well," he groaned lightly as he stood, "what can I say? I don't feel so rich anymore."
Natty frowned. "What do you mean?"
Tony exhaled and sat beside her.
"Yes, I'm rich," he said with a crooked smile. "But what's the point of money you can't access?"
Confusion deepened her expression. "What happened to your money?"
"Rehab," he said quietly. "They cut me off so I wouldn't buy drugs."
"That's messed up," Natty muttered.
Tony nodded solemnly. "They gave conditions."
"And?" Natty asked, simply.
"One month clean," he said calmly. "Then I pay a fine."
"How much?"
Manniak gasped internally, realizing the intent of the plan.
Tony squeezed his face as if ashamed.
"Seventy thousand dollars."