Underneath the Ice
The following evening, the mansion took on a quiet hum, the domestic staff moving swiftly as the household prepared for an intimate dinner. Elena stood before her full-length mirror, adjusting the silk crimson dress that hugged every curve of her body. Her reflection stared back—confident, alluring, with a hint of danger.
Downstairs, Sebastian walked in from a late conference call, his usual indifference halting abruptly when his gaze landed on Elena descending the grand staircase. The scarlet fabric shimmered under the soft lights, the plunging neckline and high slit leaving little to the imagination but everything to desire.
He swallowed tightly, his posture momentarily stiffening before he masked it under a neutral expression.
"You're overdressed for dinner," he remarked, voice slightly huskier than intended.
Elena reached the last step, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe I dressed for the view," she countered, eyes lingering boldly on him.
The air between them crackled as Sebastian stepped closer. "What are you up to, Elena?"
She leaned in, her breath warm against his jaw. "Testing a theory."
Dinner was a slow, sensual exchange—gazes held a little longer, wine glasses clinked softly, every movement deliberate. Sebastian tried to focus on his meal, but his mind wandered—her exposed collarbones, the delicate chain resting between her curves, the soft perfume she wore.
After the meal, Sebastian retreated to his study, but Elena followed, her heels clicking softly on the polished floors. He turned, finding her standing in the doorway, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"I want to renegotiate something," she said, stepping inside.
"The divorce terms?" Sebastian replied, voice laced with curiosity.
"No," Elena closed the door behind her, "something more personal."
Sebastian remained still as she walked toward him, her hips swaying deliberately. She stopped just inches from him, tilting her head. "You don't have to decide right away. But I'll make you think about it."
Before he could speak, Elena's fingers grazed his tie, straightening it slowly, sensually, before letting it slip through her fingers.
"Goodnight, Mr. Hart," she whispered, turning around and walking away, leaving Sebastian standing there, a rare hunger igniting in his chest.
As the door closed behind her, Sebastian pressed a hand to his jaw, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.
Whatever game Elena was playing—he was no longer sure who had the upper hand.
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The next day dawned with a deceptive calm over Oakridge City, but the Hart mansion simmered beneath the surface.
Sebastian hadn't slept well.
Elena's whispered words and that sultry red dress kept flashing in his mind. He was used to calculated women, those who chased him for status or money. But Elena...this version of her was different. Unpredictable. Sharp. Tempting in ways that disturbed his usual icy composure.
He emerged from the his bedroom late morning, only to pause at the sight that greeted him in the living room.
Elena, dressed in soft lounge wear, sat with a thick binder open, flipping through contract proposals. Beside her was Mason, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable as Elena grilled him on several dormant Hart Group subsidiaries.
Sebastian's brows arched. "Since when do you conduct board-level reviews, Elena?"
She looked up, unfazed, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Since I realized a few of your acquisitions are badly neglected assets that can be turned profitable."
Mason cleared his throat, trying not to smile. "She has a good eye, sir. The numbers check out."
Sebastian's curiosity deepened. He stepped forward, taking the binder and skimming the pages. Her analysis was clear, aggressive even, and precisely the kind of approach he would take. Only… more ruthless.
"And what exactly is your goal, Elena?" His tone dropped, the challenge unmistakable.
Elena stood, her proximity unsettling him more than he admitted. "My goal," she said, her voice smooth, "is to make sure no one thinks they can dismiss me as a useless wife. I intend to be more than Mrs. Hart. I intend to be a power by your side."
Sebastian didn't respond immediately. Their eyes clashed, heated and defiant. The moment stretched taut—until Mason wisely excused himself, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
"Careful, Elena," Sebastian said quietly, stepping closer. "Playing with power is intoxicating… and dangerous."
She tilted her chin, lips curving provocatively. "I'm not afraid of danger, Sebastian. Are you?"
In a rare lapse, Sebastian's hand shot out, curling around her waist. He tugged her flesh against him, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I'm afraid… I'm starting to enjoy your little games."
Their breaths mingled, the tension snapping like a charged wire. Elena's fingers brushed the lapels of his blazer, a slow smile spreading across her face.
"Then let's play," she whispered.
But just as the distance between their lips vanished Mina burst in, breathless. "Sir! Madam! There's an emergency at the Moore estate. News cameras just arrived at their gates...apparently… Julia has been caught in a scandal!"
Sebastian and Elena broke apart, both snapping to attention.
"What scandal?" Sebastian asked sharply.
Mina continued, "A leaked video… showing Julia coming out of Derrick Klein's place… half-dressed. The media is in a frenzy."
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "Julia Moore, who brands herself as the saint of Oakridge?"
Elena gave a cold, satisfied smile. Her earlier insurance video had circulated faster than planned.
Sebastian studied her, realization dawning. "You orchestrated this."
"I simply exposed a truth," Elena shrugged innocently, "and we both know, truth is the most dangerous weapon."
Sebastian exhaled, half in disbelief, half in admiration. "You're… terrifying."
"And effective," Elena finished smoothly.
As chaos unraveled at the Moore estate, Sebastian realized his wife was no longer the foolish dimwit he'd been forced to marry. She was becoming a force—dangerous, magnetic, unpredictable.
And for the first time, he didn't know if he wanted to resist… or fall deeper into her orbit.