CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

(Elara's POV)

The air was thick with tension, but Elara loved it.

She could still taste the extent of his frustration,   she could feel the weight of his gaze as he took slow steps away from her. He was trying to retain control, to compose himself after what had just happened between them.

She could see how hard he was trying in the way his jaw ticked, the way he ran his hand through his hair and over his face, the way he sighed.

But he wouldn’t be able to.

Not tonight.

She knew the war between them had only just begun, but for now she had won this round.

A slow, satisfied smile grew on her lips as she ran a hand over her hair, fixing it from the deliciously messy moment they had just shared. Then, she turned to him, her voice cool, calm and collected.

Everything that he wasn't.

"I’m staying the night."

It was not a question.

Not a request.

A statement.

She didn’t wait for his response as she brushed past him, deliberately letting her shoulder to graze his as she walked through the dinky lit foyer and up the stairs. Her heels clicked against the marble titles with her dignity intact. She was unapologetic and totally unshakable.

Killian didn’t stop her.

Of course he didn’t.

Because he knew—just as well as she did—that this wasn’t over.

***

The moment she stepped into the room, she was hit with familiarity. This was the room she had stayed in the last time she was here so she was a bit comfortable in here.

The room seemed a bit different, more lived in. Decorative pieces have been added, art and colorful bed sheets.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips.

Interesting.

Shaking her head, she walked toward the ensuite bathroom, stripping out of her dress as she went. The cool water of the shower was refreshing against her skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the thrill of victory.

When she stepped out, towel wrapped around her, she debated just slipping under the covers because she didn't have clothes here 

Her eyes glanced over the closet door as she walked to the bed and then she stopped and glanced at the door again, curiosity growing within her.

She hadn’t checked it the last time she was here, assuming it was empty like most guest room wardrobes. But something felt different.

She walked across the room and pulled the doors open. The sight in front of her made her freeze.

There were rows of neatly hung clothes staring right back at her.

Not just any clothes.

Clothes in her size.

Dresses, blouses, jeans, lingerie—everything you could possibly think of.

Her fingers skimmed over the fabric close to her, a frown tugging at her lips. Why?

Why did Killian have an entire wardrobe of clothes meant for her?

Had he expected her to stay?

Had he prepared for it?

A shiver ran down her spine, but not from fear.

From intrigue.

Just how deep does this go, Killian?

Shrugging, she reached for something to wear.

Something that would make this even more interesting. She spotted the perfect thing.

Her lips curled as she pulled the silk slip from the rack. It was a sexy nightwear that almost looked like lingerie.

The fabric was midnight black, shimmering under the soft glow of the bedroom lights. It had thin spaghetti straps which slid over her shoulders, barely holding the delicate material in place.

The neckline plunged into a deep, teasing V, showing off just enough to be dangerous.

The silk hugged her curves, the hem stopping very high on her thighs, with the slightest slit along one side.

It was an undeniable temptation.

Designed to lure, to tease and to destroy.

A slow, satisfied smirk settled on her lips as she adjusted the straps and ran her fingers over the smooth fabric.

Perfect.

Just as she finished getting dressed, the door swung open.

Killian’s POV

"Elara, I—"

He stopped.

Mid-sentence.

Mid-thought.

Mid-everything.

Because standing before him was Elara, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, wrapped in silk and sin.

His brain stopped working instantly.

The nightwear clung to her body like a second skin, the top of the neckline plunged too deep, the hem was too short, the slit along her thigh too tempting.

Too much.

Or maybe not enough.

His throat went dry, his fingers twitching at his sides.

She was staring at him with a look of calm indifference, like she wasn’t completely unraveling his sanity.

Like she wasn’t standing there, looking like a fucking dream. Like all his fantasies.

"Why are you here?"

Her voice was cool and even. She tilted her head slightly, arms lazily crossing over her chest—which only made the situation worse as her cleavage bulged.

Killian struggled to find words.

What had he even come here for?

He had something to say, didn’t he?

Didn’t he?

He blinked, forcing himself to speak.

"Are you… are you going to sleep in that?"

God, Killian.

That’s what you say?

She raised a perfectly manicured brow. "Any problem?"

Problem?

Yes.

The problem was that he wanted to rip that damn nightgown off her.

The problem was that she was completely unfazed, while he was standing here, fucking wrecked.

The problem was he had no self-control when it came to her.

He cleared his throat, but it didn’t help.

Elara smirked.

She knew.

She fucking knew.

She leaned against the dresser, tilting her head. "If you have nothing else to say, you can leave."

The dismissal was cruel.

A direct power play.

Killian clenched his jaw. He should say something. Anything.

But his mind was blank.

His pride was in shambles.

So, he did the only thing he could do.

He left.

But not before one last look.

One last burning, lingering, searing look at the woman who had him completely fucking undone.

Elara’s POV

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Elara sighed dramatically before letting out a soft, satisfied laugh.

Seeing a man like Killian Hayes crumble?

Priceless.

Her phone buzzed.

She grabbed it from the nightstand, unlocking it with ease.

Opening her messages, she quickly typed a text.

—Elara: Things are moving faster than expected. We need to push forward. You’re officially playing the role of my boyfriend now.

—PI: I thought you said we were waiting?

—Elara: Plans change. And I don’t plan on letting him win.

She hit send, then smirked.

Let the games begin.