All Chapters of Sweet Little Temptation : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

BEVERLYThe quiet expanse of the Vance estate held a rare, profound stillness on Friday evening. Damian had been delayed downtown by a late-stage international shipping acquisition, leaving the sprawling mansion entirely mine for the night. After the crisp, structured cadence of the 50th floor and the relentless pace of the workweek, the solitude felt less like loneliness and more like a vast, velvet canvas waiting to be filled. I shed my corporate attire in my bedroom, letting the high-collared blouse, the tailored skirt, and the constraints of Beverly Jones fall to the floor. Remaining only in my thick black leather collar with its gleam of silver at my throat, I pulled on a minimalist obsidian bikini, grabbed a plush towel, and padded barefoot down the marble steps toward the estate's private indoor pool wing.The subterranean pool chamber was a masterwork of architectural intimacy, lit by low, amber-toned sconces that cast long, liquid reflections across the dark granite walls. St

BEVERLY A full month had passed since I first stepped onto the 50th floor of Vance Global, and two weeks since the toxic article had flared across the company intranet. In the immediate aftermath of the post, I had braced for a lingering storm—whispers in the breakroom, icy stares in the elevators, or awkward interventions from Human Resources. Instead, the entire situation had dissolved into a quiet, eerie stillness. No follow-up threads were posted. No internal memos were issued. The anonymous author had vanished back into the digital ether, and as the relentless pace of corporate deadlines pushed the scandal into the background, the buzz died down completely. To the rest of the company, the article had become a forgotten piece of idle office gossip. But every time I sat at my desk, looking at the heavy double walnut doors of Damian’s private suite, I knew the quiet wasn't an accident. Damian had handled it with surgical, terrifying precision behind closed doors. The lack of noi

BEVERLY The hum of the secondary elevator bank on the 38th floor was a low, mechanical purr that vibrated through the soles of my heels. I stood near the back corner of the stainless-steel cab, balancing a towering stack of blue archival ledgers that Arthur Harrison had tasked me with retrieving from the regulatory compliance department. The files were stacked nearly to my chin, creating a broad, paper shield that completely obscured my face and upper body from anyone stepping inside. At the 35th floor, the elevator doors glided open with a soft chime. Three women from corporate communications stepped into the cab, their heels clicking sharply against the floorboards as they settled near the front doors, oblivious to my presence behind the heavy stack of paper. "Did you see the security update this morning?" one of the women whispered, her voice laced with sharp, eager excitement. "Corporate IT wiped the entire media forum. You can't even search the intern tags anymore." "Of cour

BEVERLYFriday morning arrived with a clear, crisp blue sky over the city.I woke up early in Damian’s master bedroom, the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. For the first time in weeks, the quiet flutter in my stomach wasn't caused by anxiety or fear of what people were saying. The constant weight of keeping a massive secret had finally lifted, leaving behind a peaceful, calm certainty.Damian was already dressed in his dark suit when I walked into his walk-in closet. He stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his tie. I walked up behind him, stepping into his space, and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. I rested my cheek against his broad back, taking in the clean scent of his soap and cologne.He stopped what he was doing and laid his large, warm hands over mine where they rested against his stomach."Good morning, little one," Damian rumbled, his deep voice filling the quiet room."Good morning," I murmured, looking up at his reflecti

BEVERLY Saturday evening arrived with a cool, refreshing autumn breeze that rustled the golden leaves lining the city streets. The steakhouse Julian talked about was tucked away in a quiet, historic building downtown. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, filled with the soft glow of amber lamps, dark leather booths, and the rich scent of grilled cuts and fine wine. It wasn't a lifestyle club or a hidden private lounge—it was just a beautiful, high-end restaurant where normal couples came to enjoy a great meal. When Damian and I stepped through the front entrance, Marcus and Julian were already seated at a wide, comfortable booth near the back. "Beverly!" Julian grinned the second he saw me, waving his hand enthusiastically. I smiled bright, stepping over to the booth as Damian held my coat. Julian was dressed casually but sharply in a cream knit sweater, his dark hair soft and neatly combed. He wasn't wearing his choker tonight, but as I sat down beside him, I caught the su