5. Playful Seduction

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Aria’s assistant asked worriedly as she peered through the half-open car window.

“I’ll be fine,” Aria replied with a faint smile, but her eyes betrayed no warmth. 

“Just return the car, go home, and pack your things. I’ll message you tomorrow. My mom will send someone to pick us up and take us back to Ironhide Pack.”

The omega nodded, hesitant, then drove off. As the car disappeared down the road, Aria turned to face the glittering tower of The Noctis Palace, its mirrored glass reflecting the dying light of the evening.

‘What floor was that bar again?’ she mused, pulling out her phone. Just then, an alarm blared... her fertility meds. Prescribed by Crimson Claw Pack’s top doctor. A bitter smile played on her lips as she pulled the bottle from her bag, then, without hesitation, tossed it into a trash bin.

“I don’t need that anymore,” she whispered to herself.

She found the exclusive bar on the 108th floor and made her way inside. The staff welcomed her warmly, recognizing her as the daughter of long-time members. 

She chose a seat at the far end of the bar, close enough to chat with the bartender, far enough to be left alone.

She ordered a bottle of L'Or de Jean Martell Cognac, and it was placed before her, golden and smooth. She sipped faster than she should have. The alcohol was sharp, numbing. Necessary.

“I built this,” she murmured, eyes scanning the city lights below. “That tower, the theater, the stadium. Oversaw every detail... and now it’s all gone. Like a sandcastle swallowed by the tide.”

As her mind spiraled with pain, regret, and betrayal, a man slid into the seat beside her. His aura was undeniable—noble, dangerous, magnetic.

“Macallan 1926,” he told the bartender, then added, “And a bottle of sparkling water for the lady.”

Aria turned, her head spinning. “Who... who are you? Why are you sitting beside me?” she slurred, eyes narrowing.

The man lifted his drink with a small smirk. “Didn’t realize this seat was taken.”

She squinted. “Wait… you… You were in the conference room earlier.” Her voice cracked. “If you’re here to laugh at me, go ahead. You win. I’m the evil ex-Luna now, hated, humiliated, betrayed. It’s the best show in town, right?”

“Drink this,” he said, handing her the water. “Your head injury isn’t fully healed. You’re drinking too fast.”

She took it and smirked. “For four years, I gave everything, my love, my strength, my soul. And just like that…” She mimicked an explosion with her hands. “Boom! Gone.”

One last gulp of the cognac, then she teetered as she stood, her dress catching on the counter. A sharp rip, and she stumbled. But before she hit the ground, strong arms caught her mid-fall. 

Time slowed.

Her heart skipped.

There he was, his face close, his scent intoxicating. Mint and vanilla. Sharp and warm. Her gaze locked onto his chiseled features.

“You… are so handsome…” she whispered, dazed, her fingers brushing his jaw.

He chuckled. “Do you like me, Miss Infamous Evil Ex-Luna?”

“I do,” she said boldly. “You’re far more handsome than that greedy ex of mine. I think I’ll keep you.” She pinched his cheek playfully, laughing like a fool.

“I’ll take you to my suite,” he said, eyes trailing to her torn dress.

“Why?” she whispered, her voice painted with sarcasm and playful seduction. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Her finger ran slowly down his chest. “Careful. I’m a married woman, you know?” A bitter chuckle followed. “Or... was. I used to be the Luna of Crimson Claw. Now? I’m a scandal. Divorced. Free.” She leaned in. “So… do you want to have some fun?”

He raised an eyebrow, totally amused. “Is this what you’re always like when drunk?”

“Your dress is torn, that’s why I am bringing you to my suite so you can change. I’ll have someone get you a new one.”

Her drunken haze cracked with a flicker of awareness. She looked down, cheeks burning. “Oh!” she smiled with embarrassment and said, “Ok, thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, nodding to the bartender. “Charge the drinks to my suite.”

Then, without another word, he scooped her into his arms.

She gasped. “Woah!”

But she didn’t resist. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting against his chest. 

His heartbeat was steady, strong, and reassuring. And that scent… Minty Vanilla, like holiday temptation in human form. A Christmas Candy Cane that she wanted to lick.

Inside the suite, he moved to lay her down, but she clung to him.

“Wait here. My Beta is coming with your new dress.”

Aria tilted her head and frowned. “You’re an Alpha?” She was so drunk that she didn’t know she was hugging the man too tightly, not letting him lie her down the bed. “What a minute, it’s you!” she exclaimed.

"You recognize me?” he asked with a smirk.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God… you’re Mason Larkin—the Federation Alpha Chairman!”

She scrambled to sit up, clutching her dress together. “I can’t believe I let you carry me. You... you’re a notorious womanizer! You change women weekly like sheets!”

He laughed. “Really? What else?”

“You…” she swallowed, nerves flaring. “You have a perverted hobby…”

He leaned closer, amused. “Do tell. What kind of hobby?”

Her thoughts spiraled. Her wolf stirred, lips tingling, fingers trembling. She could see it... him, his hands, her breathless self. Her cheeks flushed deeper.

She didn’t understand it, but something primal screamed within her. Wanting. Desperate.

She looked into his eyes, burning with mystery and strength. 

She doesn’t know why, but her wolf got very excited and she felt a very strong urge to kiss him…

Without thinking, she leaned in—she kissed him.

And so, he did. He answered her kiss with a fire that stole her breath... deeper, fiercer, each movement igniting something wild inside her. 

His lips claimed hers with such passion and intensity, it made her entire world spin, unraveling her in every direction.

Mason's gaze darkened with desire as he slowly leaned in, his strong hands guiding Aria back until her spine met the softness of the mattress. 

The moment was electric, charged with something raw and unspoken. Her breath hitched, heart pounding like war drums in her chest.

But Aria was no passive flame. Her hands moved with a hunger of their own, trembling yet determined, as she slipped them beneath his suit jacket and began to undo his shirt. 

One button at a time, her fingers revealed the sculpted planes of his chest, each inch a testament to strength and discipline.

The shirt fell open, and for a heartbeat, she simply stared. Her pain, her anger, her heartbreak all swirling into something new and dangerous. 

A storm of emotion crashed within her, and when her hands pressed against his bare skin, it wasn’t just lust; it was longing, desperation, defiance, and perhaps something more that she couldn't explain.

Mason leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “I want you,” he whispered, "I fucking want you!" his voice thick with something more than just desire. “You’re burning. And I can feel your strong desire for me...”

Just as Mason leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from hers, the sharp trill of a ringtone shattered the moment like glass against concrete. 

Aria froze. That sound. Her assistant’s ringtone, one she had set herself, a precaution from the days when everything started to fall apart.

Reality came crashing in like a storm.

She bolted upright, reaching for her phone with shaking fingers. The message on the screen sent a cold blade slicing through the haze of heat and passion.

[Your parents were sued by the scumbag’s people. They’ve been detained in Ravenhold Bastille Prison by law enforcement. What shall we do?]

Her heart dropped.

The fire that had just moments ago consumed her turned to ash. Her lips, still tingling from Mason’s touch, parted in silent disbelief. No words. No explanations. She simply stood up, gathered her composure like shattered glass, and walked out, barefoot, broken, and burning.

Mason remained still, shirt half-open, muscles tense, watching the door close behind her with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in the silence.

He let out a low, amused breath and ran a hand through his hair, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“You really don’t remember me… do you, little muffin?” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

And in the quiet that followed, a strange look passed over his face—not just amusement, but something far deeper. Something that had waited a very long time.