Chapter 11: Red Dress Negotiations

Camilla stood in front of her mirror, tugging at the hem of a blood-red silk dress that hugged her curves like it had been painted on. It was bold. Flirtatious. Powerful.

Exactly the kind of statement she wanted to make tonight.

She wasn't just going as Dominic Blake's secretary.

She was going as the woman he couldn't stop thinking about.

Her phone buzzed.

Dominic: Black limo outside. Driver's name is Matteo. You look beautiful. I just know you do.

She stared at the message, lips curving into a slow smile.

The ride was quiet. Camilla's thoughts danced between nerves and anticipation. But when she stepped out of the car and saw Dominic waiting by the hotel entrance in a perfectly tailored tux, all her doubts melted.

His jaw slackened when he saw her.

"Red suits you," he said, voice lower than usual.

"And black suits you," she replied smoothly. "Very… mafia boss meets CEO."

He chuckled, offering his arm. "Ready to charm billionaires?"

"Only if I get dessert."

"Oh, I have something much sweeter in mind," he murmured close to her ear.

Her breath caught—but she kept walking.

The dinner was formal. Laughter. Wine. Business jargon flowing like a river. Camilla played her role perfectly—poised, witty, brilliant. She could feel Dominic's pride radiating beside her, his fingers brushing hers under the table more than once.

But beneath the polished surface was that charged thread again—the one that had started in his office and never truly snapped.

When dessert was served and the crowd began to thin, Dominic leaned in.

"I'm taking you somewhere," he whispered.

They left early.

The hotel suite was sleek. Modern. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city. And only one bed.

"Dominic…" Camilla began, but he was already behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, lips at her neck.

"I've wanted you like this for weeks."

"You have me now."

Their mouths met with hungry familiarity—like they had kissed a thousand times in their minds already. His jacket hit the floor. Her heels were kicked aside. She gasped as he lifted her, carrying her to the bed like she weighed nothing.

Every touch was a confession.

Every kiss was an apology for pretending they didn't feel this way.

When they finally laid still, tangled in expensive sheets and moonlight, Camilla traced lazy circles on his chest.

"This changes everything, doesn't it?" she whispered.

Dominic stared at the ceiling. "I don't want to lose you… or us. But this world? Our world? It's built to destroy things like this."

She looked up at him, unwavering. "Then we change the rules."

His lips brushed her forehead.

"And if we break them?"

"Then we do it together."

Outside, the city buzzed with noise and life.

But inside that suite, two hearts beat in dangerous rhythm—defiant, alive, and already in too deep.