[Mr. Quin, I thought it was supposed to be seven million dollars,] Manniak said, his voice echoing in Tony's mind like a sharp reminder. [You said you were going to take it all.]
Tony ignored Manniak for the moment. Not out of arrogance, but out of necessity. This was not the time for internal debates. His focus needed to remain absolute.
Across from him, Natty was visibly shaken.
The number he had named lingered in her mind like a sudden slap. Seventy thousand dollars. The shock on her face was convincing, but Tony saw it for what it truly was: theater.
In reality, that amount was insignificant compared to what sat untouched in her accounts.
"I've never heard of any rehabilitation center capable of demanding such a thing," Natty said, still baffled. "Seventy thousand dollars… Jesus."
Tony nodded slowly, his expression heavy with controlled unease.
"Well, you haven't been to every sobriety center in the world," he replied flatly. "You have no idea how desperate I am for that money."
He shrugged lightly, then shook his head as if weighed down by humiliation. "I thought about asking my mother, but God… that would be unbearably embarrassing."
Natty glanced at him. Her lips parted as though she intended to speak, but she stopped herself. The words hovered on her tongue, then retreated. She looked away briefly, her brows knitting together as if she were calculating consequences, weighing morals, or simply deciding whether to leap.
Then she snapped.
"Screw it," she said sharply. "I'll pay the fine for you."
Tony froze.
The words seemed to pass through his ears without settling, as though his mind needed a second to catch up with reality.
"Y you… you will pay?" he stuttered, eyes wide with raw disbelief.
Natty smiled, and seeing that smile stirred something pleasant inside her. Making him happy felt good. Still, her agreement was not born of pure generosity. There was purpose behind it.
"You've already made this night amazing for me," she said calmly. "You made me feel special, loved, and most importantly, you made me happy. This is the least I can do."
Tony smiled then, a genuine one. It was the first smile that came straight from his heart that night.
But just as quickly, it vanished.
"That's a lot of money for someone working as a hotel waitress," he said, his tone laced with concern. "Are you sure?"
Natty opened her mouth to respond, but Tony interrupted smoothly.
"For this selfless gesture," he continued, "once the process is complete and my account is restored, I will send you five million dollars."
Natty's heart nearly burst through her ribs.
Joy flooded her so intensely that the office suddenly felt too small to contain it. That promise was exactly why she had offered the seventy thousand dollars in the first place. It was the grand, calculated gamble of a master manipulator.
She threw herself at Tony, wrapping him in a tight embrace.
"Whoa, easy, Natty," Tony laughed, but she only tightened her grip.
"Thank you, Tom," she cried dramatically, her voice trembling as if she were on the brink of tears.
[God, what an actress,] Manniak snarled inwardly, clearly irritated.
Tony remained composed. When the hug finally loosened, he smiled reassuringly. "Seeing you happy is my new priority now."
Natty smiled back, and her desire for him deepened. Every second spent in that office seemed to drag her heart closer to his orbit.
"You really mean this, Tom?" she asked, uncertain how to process everything she felt.
"Of course," Tony nodded. "To show you how serious I am, why don't you run the transfer now?"
Natty raised a brow. "Shouldn't there be an official account? Some rehabilitation account where the money gets wired?"
Tony smirked. It was a clever question, and for a brief moment he had no answer prepared. So he offered the most natural lie that came to him.
"I understand what you're saying," he replied calmly. "But no. It's actually very simple. You send the money to my account, and they handle the rest however they do."
The confidence in his voice erased any doubt she might have had.
Already convinced, Natty nodded. She was eager to proceed anyway. After all, she was about to get much richer.
She reached for her phone, then paused.
"My phone," she muttered, scanning the desk and then looking at Tony. "I must have left it at the counter."
Tony clicked his tongue in annoyance. He hated obstacles, especially unnecessary ones. Then his expression brightened.
"Well," he said with a grin, "technology really is wonderful."
He handed her his phone. "Use mine. Log into your account and do what you need to do."
Natty agreed. She took the phone, logged Tony out, and signed into her own account.
Silence settled between them.
This time, it was a comfortable silence, one Tony enjoyed. He watched her quietly, stealing glances at her face, her fingers, her concentration.
After a moment, Natty spoke. "I'm logged in."
Tony exhaled deeply, only then realizing he had been holding his breath.
Suddenly, he took her hand and turned her slightly to face him on the desk.
"You know," he said softly, his voice dripping with allure, "I can do more for you. In fact, I will do more."
His thumb stroked her hand slowly, deliberately. The sensation sent Natty spiraling into pleasure.
"You won't be working as a waitress anymore," he continued. "You'll be my personal assistant here at the company."
Natty's eyes widened as tears welled up. "Oh my God… oh my God… oh my God."
She covered her mouth, overwhelmed. "This is too much. Thank you, Tom. Thank you so much."
Her joy exploded from her in waves, laughter and trembling gratitude pouring out as she struggled to contain herself.
What she did not know was that every promise Tony made was a leash disguised as a gift. A beautifully wrapped distraction. A way to keep her close, visible, and vulnerable.
While she drowned in excitement, Tony's eyes flicked briefly to the phone.
She had already entered the amount.
And Tony had been waiting for that exact momemoment.
The air between them shifted, becoming one-sidedly optimistic.
Natty could not stop staring at Tony. The phone in her hand might as well have ceased to exist. All her attention clung to him. He was handsome, magnetic, caring, and now impossibly generous. Too generous.
But why?
"Why?" she asked suddenly, voicing the thought that had been clawing at her chest. "Why are you doing all this for me? You barely know me."
Tony frowned, his face twisting as though she had genuinely insulted him.
"Did you just say I barely know you?" he scoffed.
That response only made Natty more curious, more focused on him.
Tony slid down from the desk and took three unhurried steps forward. Inwardly, his voice dropped into the quiet space of his mind.
"Alright, Manniak. Time to give me that extra information you mentioned earlier."
The familiar sensation engulfed him. The world dulled, slowed, and softened as data poured into his consciousness, sharp and precise.
He scoffed once more, then turned back to her.
"You are Natty Adriana," he said smoothly. "A beautiful, intoxicating woman who somehow managed to catch my heart."
Natty smiled, her cheeks flushing crimson as her heartbeat picked up.
Tony smiled back.
"You are perfection," he continued. "Everything a man could want."
God forbid he ever actually wanted her.
Still feeding from Manniak's stream of information, he went on.
"You stand about five foot five," he said casually. "Your weight is around seventy eight kilograms."
Natty gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Her eyes widened, her breath hitching as she stared at him in disbelief. Her lips parted, words failing her entirely. Her shock was written all over her face, raw and unfiltered, as though he had peeled her open with nothing but observation.
"How… how did you…" she started, but Tony gently cut her off.
"Judging by your posture, your confidence, the way you carry your body," he said calmly, "you should be about twenty six."
Her astonishment deepened, her gaze trembling between fear and fascination.
"You strike me as someone whose best color is red," he added lightly. "And I'd bet you love roses."
[Damn,] Manniak muttered inwardly. [Way to go, Mr. Quin.] though she was the one providing the infos, but Tony was delivering it awesomely.
Natty swallowed. She felt exposed, laid bare in ways she never remembered consenting to. She could not recall telling him any of this.
Tony stepped closer.
"You like your coffee with three cubes of sugar," he said. "You do not care much for steak. You are not fond of your fiancé."
He paused, staring into her stunned eyes.
That silence alone was devastating.
Their knees touched.
Natty's breath spiked. She liked it. No, she cherished it. But Tony was not finished.
"Now for the part I enjoy the most," he said softly.
He calmly placed his palm on her lap. The gown she wore was short, so her lap was out enticingly, a temptation that Tony was willing to surrender to.
His voice lowered, intimate, dangerously calm.
"I know how you respond to closeness," he whispered. "How anticipation unravels you."
His touch moved subtly, never crossing the line yet, but commanding everything she felt. Natty trembled, gripping the edge of the desk as her breathing grew uneven.
"I know how you like it… how you want it…" Now he ran his hand up her lap. His touch was cold and very sensual; it made Natty shiver. Pleasure ran like electricity through her whole body.
"Mmm," she moaned lowly.
However, Tony's voice dropped to something way too seductive and low, almost a whisper.
"You love a long foreplay, a long nasty one… with your pussy licked lightly and slowly at first, just a tingle on your clit, a light caress on it with the tongue… a wet tongue."
Tony carried on, his voice delving her marrow more.
"After some time, when you start getting wet, you like it a bit faster, a bit wilder, the tongue not just tickling you this time but embracing your clit a bit rougher, and at the same time your nipple being pinched… God, it turns you so on."
"Fuck," She cried in a low whisper.
However, as Tony talked, he caressed her lap. His voice sent heat through her body, her pulses thickened, every nerve felt his touch.
"Fuck," she moaned again, lightly, arching her back, and shutting her eyes hard.
Slowly, Tony held her legs apart and came to stand in between them.
"Mmm," Natty whimpered, doing her best not to surrender so quickly.
Without drawing attention to it, Tony retrieved the phone from her loose grasp and set it behind her on the desk. The transfer screen remained open. The amount was already entered.
Seventy thousand dollars.
Now free to anchor herself, Natty placed both hands on the desk, her body leaning instinctively into his presence.
Just like Lisa once had with him, Tony leaned in. His body hovered close, close enough for her warmth to press against his chest. Her legs wrapped around him without thought, a silent confession of desire.
Tony bent until his lips hovered near her ear.
"It seems," he murmured slowly, each word measured, "like you are the one who does not know me."
As he spoke, his hand reached back.
Quietly, smoothly, without a single movement to alert her, he added two zeros.
The number changed.
Seven million dollars.
A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips.
He kissed her ear softly, then lifted his face.
Their eyes met.
Natty was already lost, her thoughts scattered, her senses drowning.
"Fuck," she breathed, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him into a desperate, hungry kiss.
They parted for a while, stared at each other, then dived back into the kiss, their tongues tangling, their breath rising and falling, at times hitching. Heat built between them, raw and gratifying, with gasps escaping into each other's mouths. The world narrowed to touch and tension, to urgency and need.
Natty clung to him, her legs tightening around his waist as Tony gripped her hips, pulling her closer, as though he wanted to fuse her into himself.
And all the while, the transfer waited silently behind her.