The devil's dance

The waves crashed violently against the hull of Noah's yacht, creating a rhythmic yet ominous melody.

The morning sun glistened on the surface of the water, but the warmth in the air was deceptive.

Because on the deck of the luxurious vessel, the atmosphere was anything but light.

Elena sat on a cushioned lounger, her legs casually crossed, a glass of chilled wine in her hand.

She was the image of calm elegance—sunglasses shielding her eyes, her lips painted with a soft shade of red.

She looked every bit the untouchable seductress.

But inside, her mind was anything but calm.

Noah was watching her.

She could feel his dark gaze piercing through her sunglasses, peeling back the layers of her mask with ease.

His stare was predatory, unwavering—like a beast toying with its prey, knowing it had nowhere to run.

He sat just a few feet away, his long legs stretched out, arms lazily resting on the chair.

But there was nothing relaxed about him.

His jaw was tight, and his fingers tapped lightly against the rim of his glass.

"Enjoying the view?" Noah's voice was low, but the teasing edge in his tone was unmistakable.

Elena turned slightly, offering him a small, teasing smile.

She sipped her wine, letting the chilled liquid linger on her lips.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she ran her tongue over them, savoring the taste.

"Very much."

Her voice was soft—velvet with a hint of honey.

But Noah didn't smile.

Instead, he set his glass down, his eyes never leaving hers.

He slowly stood and walked toward her, his tall, commanding frame casting a shadow over her.

Elena remained still, refusing to move back.

Even when he crouched beside her, his face just inches from hers, she didn't flinch.

His hand slid along the armrest of her chair, his fingers grazing hers ever so slightly.

A subtle touch—but charged with unmistakable intent.

"You're good at this, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.

"Playing this game."

Elena's throat tightened.

Her fingers curled slightly around the stem of her glass, but her smile didn't falter.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Noah's lips tilted into a dark smirk.

His eyes were void of amusement—cold and calculating.

"Oh, sweetheart…" he drawled softly.

Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against her earlobe.

"…you're lying again."

Elena's heart stuttered in her chest, but she didn't let it show.

Instead, she turned her face ever so slightly, her lips now just a breath away from his.

Her voice came out low, a seductive whisper.

"And what makes you so sure?"

Noah's eyes darkened with something lethal.

He didn't answer her.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her earpiece—the one he'd found the night before.

He dangled it between them, watching her reaction like a predator studying its prey.

For the briefest of moments, Elena's mask slipped.

Her fingers curled tightly around the stem of her glass, her knuckles white.

Noah caught it.

His smirk widened.

"Now…" he purred, brushing her hair away from her face with slow, deliberate fingers.

"…why would you need something like this, hmm?"

Elena forced a breathy laugh, tilting her head playfully.

"I told you—it's just a fancy gadget I use for calls."

She reached out slowly, trying to take the earpiece from his hand.

But Noah's grip tightened, and he snatched it back.

His dark eyes glimmered with cruel amusement.

"Try again, sweetheart."

Her stomach tightened.

Her fingers trembled slightly around her glass, but she refused to let her mask fall.

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, dripping with seduction.

"Are you planning to interrogate me all day…" she purred softly, her lips brushing his earlobe,

"…or are you going to do something more interesting?"

For a moment, Noah's eyes flashed with something primal.

His grip on the earpiece loosened.

His jaw clenched.

Elena knew she had struck a nerve.

For the briefest of moments, she thought she'd regained the upper hand.

But then—

Noah's hand shot out, gripping her wrist in a bruising hold.

Her wine glass slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the deck.

The red liquid bled across the wooden floorboards like spilled blood.

Elena's eyes widened slightly.

Her other hand automatically went to his chest, instinctively pushing against him.

But Noah didn't let go.

Instead, he tightened his grip, his thumb brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist, slowly trailing upward.

His touch was deceptively gentle—until it wasn't.

"You should really be more careful…" he whispered darkly, his lips brushing against her cheek.

Then his eyes turned cold.

"…because next time, I might not be so gentle."

Her breath hitched.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, he let go.

He took a step back, his eyes cold and detached once more.

As though the moment had never happened.

Elena stared at him, her wrist still tingling from the heat of his grip.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she quickly masked it with an amused smile.

She knelt down, slowly picking up a shard of broken glass.

Her fingers ran over the sharp edge deliberately.

Then she looked up at him with a devilish glint in her eyes.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Noah," she whispered.

Her voice was low—almost a challenge.

"And you're not the only one who doesn't play fair."

For the briefest of moments, Noah's eyes narrowed.

Then, to her surprise, he laughed—a dark, dangerous sound.

"Good," he murmured softly.

"I wouldn't want you to be predictable."

---

Later That Night – Noah's Villa

Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror in Noah's master bedroom, wearing nothing but a silk robe, loosely tied around her waist.

Her eyes stared at her reflection, but she barely recognized herself.

Her chest still heaved slightly from the heated exchange with Noah earlier.

Her wrist was red where he had gripped it.

She ran her fingers over the faint mark, her expression hardening.

She couldn't let him win.

She wouldn't.

But he was getting to her.

His touch lingered on her skin long after he was gone.

His voice haunted her ears.

And his eyes—the way they burned into hers—made her stomach twist into dangerous knots.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Get it together, Elena…" she whispered fiercely.

"He's just another mission. That's all."

But her hands trembled slightly as she tied the sash of her robe tighter.

Behind her, she suddenly felt the heat of Noah's presence.

She turned slightly, but she didn't flinch.

She met his gaze through the reflection in the mirror.

Noah stood behind her, shirtless, a towel slung low around his hips.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, and his sharp jawline glistened with the remnants of water droplets.

He was lethally beautiful.

Dangerous.

And he knew it.

Slowly, he walked up behind her, his hands sliding over her bare shoulders.

His touch was slow and deliberate, his fingers trailing down her arms.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

And then, Noah leaned down, his lips brushing against her neck.

His breath was warm, seductive.

"Careful, Elena…" he whispered darkly, his voice a seductive threat.

"…because I never play fair."

---

Elena felt her pulse quicken.

Because this time… she wasn't sure if she was afraid of Noah—or herself.

Noah is closing in on Elena, tightening his grip, and testing her limits. Their attraction is becoming explosive and dangerous, making it impossible for Elena to tell if Noah's touch is meant to seduce her… or destroy her.

See you in next chapter....