Chapter 6 Tempting The Devil

The moment Damien left the room, Ivy let out a slow breath, pressing her hands against the cool leather of the couch. The man was impossible to read—dangerous, calculating, and completely in control. But she had seen something tonight. A flicker of something beneath that cold exterior. Interest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. If she was going to survive here, she needed leverage. And if there was one thing Ivy Lancaster knew how to do, it was making men want her. A slow smirk curved on her lips. She had always been desired. She had played the part of the perfect heiress, the unattainable beauty. She knew how to tease, to draw men in without giving them anything. And Damien Wolfe? He was going to be her greatest challenge yet. ***** Ivy didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she spent the hours lying in bed, planning. By the time the sun began to rise, she was ready. A knock came at her door just as she expected. "Miss Lancaster," a deep voice said. "Breakfast is in the dining hall." Ivy stretched, purposefully slow, letting the silk sheets slide over her bare legs. "Mmm," she hummed, her voice still thick with sleep. "I don’t feel like breakfast." A pause. Then, the door opened. Elias stepped in, his expression neutral as ever. "Mr. Wolfe expects you to be there." Ivy yawned, letting the strap of her silk nightgown slip off her shoulder. "Then he can come get me himself." Elias didn’t blink. "I don’t think that would be wise." "Are you worried about me?" Ivy tilted her head, letting her hair spill over her shoulder. Elias sighed. "I’m worried about whoever ends up cleaning the mess after you push him too far." Ivy smirked. "Guess we’ll find out." ******* She didn’t have to wait long. Fifteen minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. A slow, deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. Then, the door swung open, Damien stood in the doorway, exuding raw, masculine dominance. His dark eyes swept over her, taking in the silk draped over her body, the way she sat at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, lips curved in amusement. Ivy dragged a finger across her exposed collarbone, tilting her head. "Finally decided to visit me yourself, Mr. Wolfe?" His gaze darkened. "You were given an order," he said, stepping inside. Ivy’s smirk widened. "I didn’t realize I was supposed to obey." Damien shut the door behind him, the *click* of the lock echoing through the room. Her pulse spiked. He stalked toward her, his presence suffocating. "You think this is a game?" Ivy leaned back on her hands, arching her back slightly. "I don’t think," she murmured. "I *know*." A muscle in his jaw ticked. For the first time, she saw something raw flicker across his face. Desire. It was subtle, but it was there—the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was debating whether to grab her or walk away. Ivy let the silence stretch, the tension between them thick, suffocating. Then, she moved., slowly, deliberately, she slid off the bed and stepped toward him. The silk of her nightgown brushed against her skin as she closed the distance, stopping just inches from him. She looked up, meeting his gaze. He was taller than her, stronger. He could break her in half if he wanted to. But he didn’t move. Ivy reached up, her fingers barely grazing his chest. "What’s wrong, Wolfe?" she murmured. "Afraid of a little temptation?" His breath hitched. Then, suddenly— His hand shot out, gripping her wrist. Ivy gasped as he yanked her forward, their bodies flush against each other. "You’re playing with fire," he growled, his voice rough, low. Ivy’s lips parted, her pulse hammering in her throat. "Good thing I don’t mind getting burned." A beat of silence. Then— Damien moved. Faster than she could react, he spun her around, pressing her against the wall. His breath was hot against her ear, his body flush against her back. Ivy sucked in a breath. "You think you can manipulate me?" he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. "That you can make *me* lose control?" Ivy swallowed hard. She had been in control her whole life. She had dictated how men looked at her, how they responded to her touch. But this? This was something else. Damien’s fingers trailed down her arm, slow, deliberate. Not soft, but not cruel either. Just enough to make her shiver. "You have no idea what kind of man you’re teasing, Ivy," he said. She turned her head slightly, their lips inches apart. "Then show me," she whispered. For a moment, just a moment, she thought he would. But Damien Wolfe was not a man who gave in easily. Instead, he pulled back, releasing her completely. Ivy stumbled slightly, turning to face him. His expression was unreadable, but his breathing was slightly heavier, his fists clenched at his sides. "Be careful what you wish for," he murmured. Then, without another word, he turned and left. Ivy exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against her racing heart. Damien Wolfe was dangerous. But so was she. And this game was far from over.