Chapter 10 Crimson Games

Chapter 9: Crimson Games

Delilah didn't sleep.

She sat on the edge of her bed, robe loosely tied around her body, the city's morning glow bleeding through the wide windows. But her eyes were elsewhere-fixed on the message Sebastian had left on her mirror.

Choose, Red.

He wasn't bluffing. Not this time. The game had changed.

And now, so would she.

She dressed slowly, deliberately. A black silk slip that clung to her skin like a second whisper. A touch of blood-red lipstick. No jewelry. Just her. Raw. Dangerous. Deciding.

And when she stepped into the elevator to head down, she didn't know whose name she would whisper when this day ended.

---

Later. Noon. Somewhere darker.

The private club was wrapped in velvet shadows and cigar smoke. Women draped over men like expensive scarves. But Delilah walked through it like fire-untouchable, untamed.

She found him seated in a back lounge, drink in hand, shirt unbuttoned just enough to remind her of last night.

Sebastian.

He didn't flinch when she approached. Didn't rise. He simply raised his glass.

"Missed me already?" His smirk was cruel and beautiful.

"I never left," she murmured, sliding into the seat across from him.

He leaned back, watching her. The lion enjoying the way the gazelle came to the hunt.

"You're wearing my color."

Delilah smirked. "I wear what suits me."

"And yet you came to me."

She leaned forward slowly, placing her phone on the table. On the screen, a photo-him, entering her apartment. Caught by one of her hidden cams.

Sebastian's brow rose, but he said nothing.

"I don't do warnings, Sebastian," she said. "But I do make rules."

He chuckled lowly. "Darling, you're still pretending you have control."

She stared him down. "And you're still pretending you're not afraid of what I could become."

That did something.

His eyes darkened. Not with anger. With need.

"You want to play?" he asked.

She leaned closer. "I want to win."

He reached across the table, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles with maddening slowness. "Then I hope you've brought more than lipstick to this war."

Delilah smiled.

She always did.

---

Meanwhile, across the city...

Adrian's hands trembled slightly as he finished reading the dossier delivered to his office. He didn't need to open it-but he did.

Photos. Audio. Surveillance.

All on Delilah.

But it was the last photo that made him rise from his chair like a man possessed.

Delilah and Sebastian.

Locked in a moment too intimate, too electric to deny.

She was choosing.

And she wasn't choosing him.

But it wasn't over.

Not yet.

He picked up his phone.

"Prepare the jet," he said. "We're going to Milan. Bring her past."

---

Back to Delilah...

The car ride home was quiet.

But her mind was chaos.

Sebastian had touched something in her. A hunger, yes-but also the ghost of something deeper. Something she wasn't ready to name.

Until she reached her penthouse and saw it:

A box. Wrapped in black ribbon. No note.

Inside-one single, delicate item.

A velvet choker.

And on the inside of the collar... a tiny tag.

Property of S.

Delilah's breath caught.

No flowers.

No declarations.

Just a silent promise.

And a dangerous game.

She picked it up, ran her fingers across the silk, and for the briefest moment... she didn't feel like she was falling.

She felt like she was being claimed.