Chapter 12

Chapter 12

After dinner, Mark extended his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. The simple touch of his forearm under her fingers sent a shiver through her, which she tried to ignore as they walked toward the limousine.

At a table near the restaurant exit, two women were watching them. One leaned toward the other, not bothering to lower her voice:

"What young women do for money," she said, with obvious disdain. "Disgusting."

Elena heard her. Her face heated with shame and indignation. She almost let go of Mark’s arm.

He heard her too. How could he not, with his extraordinary hearing?

His body stiffened for a brief moment. Very brief. Elena felt the muscle under her hand tense, felt the air around them shift.

Mark stopped near the exit.

The woman still had a crooked smile on her lips when she noticed Mark had stopped.

He slowly turned his face toward her.

He said nothing.

He just stared.

His deep black gaze landed on her like a force. The woman felt the air leave her for a second. Her mockery disappeared from her face, replaced by sudden blush and awkward silence. She tried to look away but couldn’t.

Something settled in her body.

A strange, improper heat rising through her abdomen, tightening her chest, leaving her legs weak. She shifted in the chair, uncomfortable, her breathing uneven.

The friend in front of her frowned.

"What’s wrong with you?" she asked, leaning in. "You look pale… and red at the same time. Strange."

The woman swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on Mark, unable to break free.

"I… I don’t know…" she murmured, her voice faltering. "It’s like…" She stopped, pressing her hands against her lap, her body reacting against her own will.

A violent shiver ran down her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself, as an intense wave swept through her, leaving her trembling, breathless, on the verge of losing control right there.

On the other side, the doorman politely thanked Elena and Mark for coming, opening the door.

"I’m going to…" she murmured.

The woman held herself together as best she could, biting her lip to contain any sound, any reaction that might reveal what she was feeling, until she felt the climax hit.

When she opened her eyes again, Mark had stepped back, leading Elena with absolute calm. As if nothing had happened.

She would never forget that look. Now she understood, at least in part, why the young woman had been with him. It wasn’t money. It wasn’t status.

It was pure fire.

Across the street, settled in the limousine, Mark closed the door with a calm gesture. The glass began to rise slowly, isolating him from the restaurant’s chatter.

But he smiled. A discreet smile. He had felt it. The sudden change in the air. The breaking of arrogance. Desire arising where there had been disdain. He didn’t need to look back to know what he had provoked. Her body responded like all the others… perhaps even faster than he expected.

"It still works…" he murmured to himself, his voice low, filled with restrained satisfaction.

He opened his eyes again. The desire he had awakened was like a wave: it came, it took, it passed… but left a mark. Confusion. Hunger. Power.

His thoughts, however, soon returned to the only person who really mattered.

Elena. He looked at her, observing in silence. The scent of her skin was soft, stirring something deeper than simple attraction.

"You have no idea…" he thought. "… how different she is."

Inside the limousine, Elena exhaled.

"I’m sorry about earlier…" she began, uncomfortable. "I didn’t…"

"It has absolutely nothing to do with you," Mark interrupted, turning to her. His tone was too calm. "Small people need to diminish others to feel bigger."

She nodded, still shaken by the situation.

"Still… it’s strange. For them to judge like that."

He watched her for a few seconds.

"The world always looks from the outside," he finally said. "It never knows what really happens when the door is closed."

Elena felt a shiver run down her spine. Perhaps from the way he had looked at her.

She leaned back in her seat, trying to compose herself, unaware that Mark was still watching.

He sighed calmly.

"You know I have a company party on Friday, right?"

Elena nodded immediately, maintaining her professional posture.

"Yes, sir."

He tilted his head slightly:

"Just Mark."

That made her swallow hard.

"I’d like you to come with me," he continued. "It’ll be the last time I attend. I’m preparing my son to take my place. I don’t have the same energy I used to."

Elena blinked, surprised. There was something definitive in his words.

"I… of course," she replied, choosing her words carefully. "If you… if you think it’s appropriate."

He smiled, satisfied.

"I do," he said simply. "And I trust you."

He asked for her address to take her home. She gave the street and neighborhood, but inside she felt a strange tightness in her chest. She didn’t want the night to end. She didn’t want to leave him yet.

Mark noticed.

He noticed the slight delay in her response, the tone too soft, the way she kept her gaze down a second longer than necessary. That almost innocent sweetness struck him in a dangerous way.

He shifted slightly in the seat, turning just enough for his leg to brush lightly against hers.

Elena held her breath. The contact was minimal. A simple touch. But it was enough.

She looked up at the same moment, and her eyes met his. Black. Deep. Hungry for something he was struggling to control.

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. He slowly raised his hand. His fingers gently touched her chin, lifting her face.

She sighed involuntarily.

"Elena…" he murmured, in a low voice.

His thumb remained there, feeling the warmth of her skin. So close. Her slightly parted lips said more than any words.

For a moment, Mark almost forgot who he was. What he was. The danger he carried.

And Elena… Elena was already lost in that gaze, unaware that this simple touch was only the beginning of something that could be deeply pleasurable.