Poisoned Success

  The next few days passed in a blur.

Victoria’s phone would not stop ringing. Collectors who had never replied to her before were suddenly desperate to buy her work. Galleries wanted new pieces immediately. One famous interior designer even offered her a huge commission after seeing photos of her and Sebastian together at the gala.

Her newest paintings - the darker, more sensual ones she had created while thinking about him - sold for three times her normal price.

She should have been happy. Instead, she felt sick.

Victoria stood in her studio surrounded by fresh checks and transfer notifications. One painting that used to take her two weeks to sell had been bought in less than forty-eight hours. The price was the highest she had ever received.

And this was all because people now knew her as “Sebastian Montez’s woman.”

She picked up one of the new sketches she had drawn in secret - a woman being pulled into shadows by a powerful, faceless man. It was beautiful in a haunting way. But it felt wrong.

Like she was selling pieces of her soul.

Her phone buzzed again.

Sebastian: Dinner at my place tonight. I want to celebrate your success.

She stared at the message. Her body wanted to go. Her pussy was already getting wet just thinking about seeing him, but her mind was screaming that she was losing herself.

Still, at eight o’clock, she found herself at his villa wearing a simple white dress that clung to her body. Sebastian opened the door and immediately pulled her inside. He kissed her like he had been waiting days instead of hours. His hands roamed over her waist, her hips, pulling her tight against him so she could feel how hard he already was.

“You’ve been everywhere,” he murmured against her neck.

“My beautiful artist. Everyone wants a piece of you now.”

They barely ate dinner.

Sebastian fed her bites of perfectly cooked salmon between kisses. Every touch of his felt electric. His fingers kept sliding under her dress, teasing her thighs, brushing against her soaked panties, but never giving her what she really wanted.

He was torturing her on purpose.

After dinner, he took her to the living room and sat on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. Victoria straddled him, her dress riding up. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her through his pants.

“You’re making so much money now,” he said, his voice low as he kissed her neck.

“Does it feel good?”

Victoria moaned softly as he sucked on her skin.

“It feels… dirty. Like they’re not buying my art. Like ... they’re buying your name on my arm.”

Sebastian chuckled darkly. His hand slipped between her legs and rubbed her clit through her panties.

“But you’re still getting wet for me,” he whispered.

“Even when you know something is wrong.”

Victoria gasped and rocked against his hand. She was dripping. The silk of her panties was completely ruined and she wanted him inside her so badly it hurt.

But Sebastian kept her on edge. He rubbed her slowly, perfectly, bringing her close to orgasm again and again without letting her go over.

“Sebastian… please…”

“Not yet,” he said, biting her earlobe.

“I want you desperate tonight.”

He finally pushed her panties aside and slid two fingers deep inside her while his thumb circled her clit. Victoria rode his hand shamelessly, moaning into his mouth as he kissed her.

She came hard, shaking in his arms, soaking his fingers.

After she came down, Sebastian held her close, stroking her back gently. For a moment, everything felt peaceful.

Then he spoke.

“I heard you’ve been asking my staff questions about me.”

Victoria froze.

He continued, his voice calm but cold.

“They told me everything. They’re loyal, Victoria. You won’t get answers from them.”

She pulled back slightly to look at his face. His eyes were darker now. The warm lover from moments ago was fading. She had asked his staff some questions about Marco Vale after the Kitchen spectacle. 

“I’m just trying to understand you,” she whispered.

Sebastian stared at her for a long moment. Then he kissed her forehead softly. 

“Understanding me comes with a price,” he said quietly.

“Are you sure you’re willing to pay it?”

Victoria’s heart pounded. One part of her wanted to say yes, while the other yelled at her to say no.

Instead, she stayed silent.

Sebastian smiled like he already knew her answer.

Later that night, after he sent her home in his car, Victoria sat in her bed with her laptop again.

She opened Lily Carter’s last album and played the song that mentioned “cooking in the kitchen and in the bedroom.” The title was "cooking lover 1."

She listened to it five times, then she started taking notes. Her obsession was no longer a whisper.

It was screaming.

And Victoria was starting to scream back.