Chapter 5 5

Travis Scott stepped out of the mansion. The wind touched his face, cool and light, but he kept walking. He looked back once-this used to be his parents' home, but they left it behind after too much pain. Now, it was his. New, clean, and all on his terms.

Tonight wasn't about love. It wasn't even about feelings. It was business mixed with pleasure-and Clarabelle Belmont just happened to bring both. She looked good, no doubt. But Travis had seen beautiful before. He wasn't new to this.

He liked control. He liked the game. And Clarabelle? She was just another part of the plan.

The ride to the restaurant was short, the sky fading into a dusky blush. And there she was-Clarabelle Belmont-seated at an outdoor table like a vision painted in scarlet. Her red dress clung to her curves like second skin, and her confident smile made his heart skip.

"Travis, darling," she purred, that low, teasing voice she used when she was up to something.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," he said smoothly, taking her hand. Her skin was warm, soft, yet dangerously inviting.

"Chinese?" she grinned as menus arrived. "I love Chinese."

"Haven't noticed," Travis smirked. "I seem to know you right down to what you've got on underneath."

Clarabelle tilted her head, amused. "You do know me well, Mr. Scott."

And there it was-that rebellious smile. The one that made him want to bend her over the table right there and teach her who was in charge. But instead, he took a slow sip of his drink.

"So," he said finally, voice dipping low. "What's the real offer?"

She leaned in, breath hot against his ear. "Let's merge our businesses. I've got ideas that'll set the South on fire-and I want you on my team... in and out of the boardroom."

Travis's eyes darkened, a crooked smile curving his lips. "You're always up to something."

"You like me that way," she whispered, clinking her glass to his.

Dinner melted into flirtation, words became touches-fingers brushing knees under the table, glances that lingered too long. And by the time they rose from the table, tension hung thick like storm clouds.

The restaurant, tucked inside The Crown Regel Hotel, opened into a private lounge that led toward the guest suites. Travis had reserved one ahead of time-because he knew where this night would end.

At the front desk, he asked for his key. The clerk handed it over smoothly. Room 34.

Travis barely waited before his hand found Clarabelle's waist. They stumbled down the hallway, locked in a hungry kiss, his grip possessive. By the time the door shut behind them, Clarabelle was gasping against his lips.

He peeled her dress off like it offended him, tossing it aside as she fell back on the bed, hair wild, eyes dark with need.

"You've missed me," she whispered, biting her lip.

"You've got no idea."

Travis pinned her down with his body, grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head back to expose her neck. He grazed it with his teeth, his breath hot and uneven.

Clarabelle arched beneath him, moaning when his mouth found her breasts-biting, sucking, slow and rough all at once. She dug her nails into his shoulders, breath catching as he teased her nipples until she writhed, barely able to speak his name.

"You drive me crazy," she whispered, voice shaking.

"Not today, Miss Belmont," he growled, gripping both her wrists and pinning them over her head. "We do it my way."

Clarabelle gasped as he dove back in-his tongue, his hands, his hips-owning every inch of her. Their bodies moved in messy rhythm, clothes forgotten on the floor, skin slick with sweat. The room echoed with moans, the slap of skin, the heavy gasps of bodies pushed to the edge.

When they came, it was explosive-back-arching, soul-shattering. Clarabelle trembled beneath him, breathless, fingers barely stroking his chest as if to steady herself.

They collapsed together, tangled in sheets, a mess of limbs and satisfaction.

Clarabelle traced slow circles on his chest, lips parted, eyes lazy with pleasure.

"I think it's time we get back to business," she murmured, her voice still husky.

Travis smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "With you? I'm always ready."

Travis rose from the bed first, not bothering to wrap himself in anything but quiet confidence. He poured a drink from the bar cart by the window, the ice clinking softly as he glanced over the city lights. Clarabelle lay back, still catching her breath, arms stretched across the sheets like a queen who knew the kingdom would bend for her.

"You always make your deals this intense?" he asked without turning, a grin playing at the corner of his lips.

Clarabelle sat up, gathering the sheet around her lazily. "Only when the stakes are worth it."

Travis took a sip, finally facing her. "So what's your real angle? This merger you keep talking about... it's not just about profit."

She didn't deny it. She never did.

"I want reach. I want your network. And I know how you work, Travis. You don't play safe-but you win. We could own the South if we move fast."

He let that settle in the air, the weight of power thicker than the steam still clinging to the room.

"Maybe I'll think about it some more, but even if I did consider it- " he said after a moment. "We keep it clean. No messy emotions. No power games between the sheets. We keep business sharp and pleasure separate."

Clarabelle's smirk deepened. "You think you can separate it, Mr. Scott?"

He stepped closer, resting his drink on the side table and leaning down until they were nose to nose. "I've done it all my life."

Their eyes locked-not in longing, but in challenge.

And Clarabelle whispered, "Then let's make a killing together."