CHAPTER 10: The Dinner Sabotage

​WARNING: 18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT BELOW

​The morning after the desk had been reduced to a war zone, the atmosphere on the eightieth floor of Lockett Global Tower was suffocatingly civil.

​By six-forty-five AM, Lily was seated at her new executive workstation inside Kendrick’s open-plan private office suite. She was draped in a dark charcoal suit, her high silk blouse buttoned securely to her throat—concealing every dark bite mark and bruised thumbprint Kendrick had branded into her skin hours before. Her dark hair was pulled into her signature, impenetrable low bun.

​To any outside observer, the "Ice Queen" was fully restored. But beneath her desk, hidden by the heavy timber modesty panel, her inner thighs still throbbed with a deep, lingering ache, and the encrypted USB drive containing the Singapore sabotage files was safely hidden in her lining.

​Kendrick had spent the day acting as if nothing had happened. He moved through high-level briefings, international calls, and fleet status reviews with the cold, detached precision of an absolute monarch. Yet, every time his storm-gray eyes swept over her desk, a quiet, possessive warmth flared in their depths—a silent reminder that he knew exactly how she sounded when her control completely broke.

​By seven o'clock that evening, the game shifted from the boardroom to the private dining room of L'Étoile, Sydney’s most exclusive harbor-side restaurant.

​The reservation was supposed to be a private, mandatory executive dinner between CEO and Vice-Presidential Assistant to finalize the public press release regarding Bridget Maritime's absorption. The setting was intimate: a secluded corner alcove enclosed by heavy velvet drapes, featuring a round marble table draped in white linen, lit only by soft candlelight, and overlooking the dark water of the bay.

​Lily sat gracefully in her plush leather dining chair, taking a slow sip of vintage Pinot Noir.

​"The press release is scheduled for release at midnight London time," Lily stated smoothly, setting her crystal glass down with surgical precision. "I've modified the wording in Section 3 to ensure Bridget Maritime retains its original flag registration rights. It protects my father's legacy from being completely erased in the European markets."

​Kendrick sat opposite her, his tall frame relaxed in an open-collared black suit jacket. He swirled the amber whiskey in his glass, his dark gaze pinned to her face.

​"You don't miss a single detail, do you, Liliana?" Kendrick murmured, his baritone velvet-soft in the quiet room. "Even after a night that should have left you sleeping until noon."

​"I told you, Mr. Lockett," Lily replied, her gray-blue eyes flashing with quiet steel. "My hands never slip. And I certainly don't let physical... distractions... interfere with my duty."

​Before Kendrick could answer, the heavy velvet curtain of the private alcove was pulled back with a sharp, dramatic flourish.

​"Kendrick, darling! I knew I’d find you here!"

​Rose Claire glided into the private booth without an invitation. She was dressed in a striking, low-cut crimson silk cocktail dress that practically screamed for attention. Her blonde hair fell in cascading, perfect curls over her bare shoulders, and her glossy lips were fixed in a sweet, triumphant pout. Following closely behind her was her father, Arthur Claire, looking satisfied and smug.

​"Rose," Kendrick said flatly, his expression freezing into a mask of unreadable corporate ice. "This is a private executive working dinner."

​"Oh, don't be so cold, Kendrick!" Rose purred, brushing past the waiter and sliding into the curved leather booth directly beside Kendrick—putting herself opposite Lily. Arthur pulled up a chair at the end of the table. "Father and I were dining in the main room when the maître d' mentioned Lockett Global’s executive table was reserved. Given our families' long-standing partnership, we simply had to join you to celebrate the acquisition."

​Rose cast a sugary, condescending smile across the table toward Lily, her eyes gleaming with malice.

​"It must be so exhausting for you, Liliana," Rose said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Working late into the evening, playing the obedient little assistant. Do you even get a break, or does Kendrick keep you on a leash twenty-four hours a day now?"

​Lily’s jaw tightened slightly, but her face remained a carved piece of marble. She rested her hands neatly over her lap beneath the tablecloth. "I go wherever my investments require my oversight, Rose. Some of us prefer to work for our influence rather than rely on family trust funds."

​Rose gasped softly, her cheeks flushing red, before she quickly let out a high, artificial laugh. She turned her body fully toward Kendrick, placing her manicured hand boldly over his forearm on top of the table.

​"Always so bitter, isn't she, Kendrick?" Rose purred, leaning close to him so her chest brushed his sleeve. "Anyway, father and I were discussing the Claire Group's participation in the upcoming Sydney Maritime Gala this weekend. Father thinks we should announce our formal corporate alliance on stage. After all, now that Bridget Maritime is under your foot, there's no reason for us to delay our families' unification..."

​As Rose babbled on, painting a lavish picture of their families' combined wealth and social power, Kendrick didn't move his arm away from Rose's touch.

​Instead, beneath the long, white linen tablecloth that draped all the way to the floor, hiding everything from the waist down... Kendrick moved.

​Lily felt a sudden, heavy shift of air against her legs.

​Without breaking eye contact with Rose, without changing the bored, stoic expression on his face, Kendrick slowly extended his long leg beneath the narrow table. The polished toe of his leather shoe brushed lightly against Lily’s ankle.

​Lily stiffened, her spine snapping completely straight. She shot Kendrick a razor-sharp glare across the table, warning him silently.

​Kendrick didn't blink. A dark, wicked spark ignited in his storm-gray eyes as he took a slow sip of his whiskey.

​Under the cover of the heavy linen, Kendrick reached down. His broad, warm hand slid off his lap, disappeared beneath the edge of the white cloth, and found Lily’s knee.

​Lily’s breath hitched violently in her throat. She forced herself to choke it back, turning it into a silent, shallow breath through her nose. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs like a trapped beast.

​He wouldn't dare, she thought frantically. Rose and Arthur are sitting right here. A single waiter could step into the booth at any second.

​Kendrick’s broad palm cupped her knee firmly. His large fingers were scorching hot against her sheer dark stockings. Slowly, deliberately, his hand began to move upward—sliding up the silk fabric of her tailored suit skirt, pushing the hem up her pale thigh, inch by excruciating inch.

​"Liliana?" Rose’s high-pitched voice suddenly cut through the heavy fog in Lily’s mind. "Are you even listening to me?"

​Lily’s eyes snapped toward Rose. She forced her facial muscles into a smooth, polite, perfectly calm smile, even as Kendrick’s broad thumb rubbed a hard, agonizingly slow circle into the bare skin of her lower thigh, right above the lace band of her stocking.

​"Of course I am listening, Rose," Lily said, her voice dropping into a soft, remarkably steady register, though every nerve ending in her body was screaming in alarm. "You were speaking about the Claire Group’s desire for a... formal alliance."

​"Exactly," Rose said proudly, leaning even closer to Kendrick, her manicured fingers stroking his arm. "Kendrick knows that the Claire family offers stability. Not baggage, debt, or scandal."

​Under the table, Kendrick’s fingers reached the soft, sensitive skin of Lily’s inner thigh.

​His touch was agonizingly slow, agonizingly hot. He spread his long fingers wide, squeezing the soft flesh of her inner thigh, his knuckles brushing dangerously close to the center of her heat through the thin silk scrap of her underwear.

​Lily’s toes curled tightly inside her Louboutin heels. A sudden, violent jolt of liquid electricity shot straight up her spine, making her stomach drop into a terrifying abyss of pleasure and panic. Her inner thighs involuntarily tried to clamp together to shield herself, but Kendrick used his knee to forcefully wedge her legs apart beneath the linen, creating a wide, helpless path for his hand.

​"Are you alright, Miss Bridget?" Arthur Claire chimed in from the end of the table, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed her. "You look remarkably pale all of a sudden."

​"I am fine, Mr. Claire," Lily managed to say, her fingers gripping the edge of her cloth napkin beneath the table so tightly her knuckles turned ghostly white. "It has been... a long day of intense negotiations."

​"Well, you should get used to it," Rose sneered softly, taking a sip of her champagne. "Kendrick demands perfection from his staff. Don't you, darling?"

​"Absolute perfection," Kendrick rumbled smoothly.

​His tone was completely calm, completely detached, as if he were discussing shipping interest rates. But beneath the table, his broad hand slid all the way up to her apex. His long middle finger pushed aside the thin, damp edge of her lace panties, pressing his bare, warm fingertip directly against her swollen, drenched center.

​Ah—!

​A sharp, electric gasp threatened to burst from Lily’s throat. She bit the absolute inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper, forcing the sound down into her chest. Her eyes widened slightly, her gaze locking onto Kendrick’s face in pure, terrified fury.

​He was looking directly at her over the rim of his whiskey glass. He didn't look down. He didn't show a single flicker of exertion. But beneath the linen, his finger began to stroke her.

​He dragged his wet, calloused fingertip up and down her sensitive slit, rubbing her swollen clitoris in slow, heavy, rhythmically torturous sweeps. She was already slick—her body traitorously reacting to the memories of the night before, making it impossibly easy for his finger to slide through her hot, dripping moisture.

​"Kendrick..." Rose purred, resting her head lightly against his shoulder, completely oblivious to the fact that the man she was trying to charm was currently driving his assistant out of her mind two feet away. "You haven't said a word about the gala. Will you be picking me up at eight?"

​Kendrick took a slow, deliberate swallow of his drink. Beneath the table, he drove his finger deep inside Lily’s wet, tight depth, sinking it to the knuckle in one swift, silent thrust.

​Lily’s back arched off her chair. Her eyes fluttered shut for a terrifying half-second, a soft, helpless whimpering sound threatening to escape her lips. She barely managed to convert the sound into a heavy, raspy sigh, opening her eyes and staring at Rose with liquid fire in her gaze.

​"Kendrick’s schedule for the gala is... still being finalized, Rose," Lily choked out, her voice dangerously husky, her chest heaving beneath her structured suit jacket as she tried desperately to regulate her breathing.

​"I wasn't asking you, Liliana," Rose snapped, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "I was asking Kendrick."

​"Miss Bridget is correct, Rose," Kendrick said, his deep baritone rolling smoothly through the tension. He began to work his finger inside Lily with a steady, relentless rhythm—curving his tip upward, striking that exact, deep sensitive wall inside her again and again. "My time this weekend is entirely occupied."

​Stroking. Curving. Pounding.

​The sensation was maddening. The extreme contrast between the public insult Rose was throwing at her and the silent, brutal pleasure Kendrick was inflicting on her core was driving Lily over the razor-thin edge of her sanity.

​She was sitting in a public restaurant, three inches away from her worst enemy, while the CEO of Lockett Global was fingering her under the table, filling her with her own wet heat while keeping a completely straight face.

​The fear of being caught—the sheer, terrifying vulnerability of making a sound in front of Rose and Arthur—amplified every single nerve ending in her body by a thousand percent.

​Lily reached her left hand beneath the table, frantically grabbing Kendrick’s wrist, trying with all her strength to push his hand away from her center. But his forearm was like a solid bar of iron. He didn't budge an inch. Instead, he added a second finger, spreading her tight, scalding walls wide, his thumb coming around to press firmly against her throbbing peak.

​"Oh, look, the primary courses are arriving!" Arthur announced as two waiters stepped up to the booth, carrying heavy silver trays.

​Lily’s heart stopped entirely.

​The waiter set a plate of seared scallops directly in front of her. "For you, madam," the waiter said politely, leaning over the table, his arms hovering just inches above the white tablecloth that was hiding Kendrick’s hand moving relentlessly inside her body.

​"Thank... thank you," Lily whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

​She had to keep her composure. She had to play the meek, untouchable assistant. If she gasped, if she moved, if the tablecloth shifted—Rose would see everything, and the scandal would destroy what was left of her father's name before she could execute her revenge.

​Kendrick’s thumb began to rub her swollen center in fast, ruthless, microscopic circles. His two fingers worked deep inside her wet, milking heat, pacing her toward an unavoidable, catastrophic cliff.

​Lily’s inner muscles began to quiver violently. The tight, intense pressure in her lower belly reached a blinding, terrifying peak. She felt the orgasm building like a tidal wave—fast, heavy, and completely uncontrollable.

​No, no, no... not here... not in front of her—!

​Lily reached out with her right hand on top of the table, grabbing her crystal water glass. She lifted it to her lips, using the glass to hide the bottom half of her face as her jaw worked frantically to suppress her ragged breathing.

​Under the table, Kendrick felt her inner walls tightening around his fingers like a velvet vise. Recognizing that she was at the absolute point of snapping, he gave her no mercy. He curled his fingers upward hard, pressing his thumb firmly into her peak, and delivered three fast, deep strokes.

​Lily’s body shattered.

​A violent, wall-cleaving orgasm ripped through her lower abdomen. Her hips twitched helplessly against his hand, her inner muscles clamping down on his fingers in hard, rhythmic, desperate spasms as a thick wave of her hot, liquid sweetness poured out over his hand.

​She didn't scream. She couldn't.

​She bit down violently on her lip behind the crystal glass, a sharp, choked, pathetic whimpering sound trapped deep in her throat. Tears of intense, overwhelming pleasure pricked the corners of her gray-blue eyes as her entire frame trembled under the table, her body completely consumed by the silent, hidden climax.

​Kendrick felt every single contraction of her orgasm milking his fingers. A dark, victorious smirk touched the very edge of his lips as he slowly, agonizingly withdrew his wet fingers from her core.

​Under the table, he used the hem of her suit skirt to lightly wipe his wet fingertips, before casually sliding his hand back onto his lap, pulling a linen napkin to clean his skin—never once breaking his posture.

​"Well," Rose said, totally blind to the storm that had just occurred two feet away, "if your schedule is so busy, Kendrick, perhaps we can at least share the executive box at the opera tomorrow night?"

​Lily set her water glass down on the table with a soft, trembling clink. Her breath was still coming in shallow, heavy gasps, her chest rising and falling beneath her jacket. Her thighs were soaking wet, shaking violently beneath her skirt, her mind completely reeling from the sheer, terrifying audacity of what he had just done to her.

​She lifted her head, her gray-blue eyes meeting Kendrick’s across the candlelit table.

​Kendrick lifted his whiskey glass toward her in a silent, lethal toast, his storm-gray eyes flashing with possessive triumph.

​I own you, his gaze said without a word. Even in front of the world.

​Lily’s jaw set into a razor-sharp line. The trembling in her hands slowly faded, replaced by an icy, lethal rage that burned far hotter than the orgasm he had just stolen from her body.

​She reached into her blazer pocket with her left hand, her fingers brushing the hard, metallic edge of the USB drive containing the evidence of his potential downfall.

​Enjoy your victory, Kendrick, Lily thought, her eyes narrowing into dangerous, unyielding diamond as she offered Rose a sweet, chilling smile. Because tomorrow night... I burn your world to the ground.