Fatal Attraction: Falling In Love With The Target

At the start of this year, I got a new client. Theresa Hewitt, the wife of Apex Group's chairman, reached out to me with an intriguing proposition: she wanted me to pick up her husband.

My line of work involved deterring home-wreckers. When stubborn women refused to step aside, desperate wives would hire me to charm their husbands. Once I successfully won their hearts and dissuaded those tempting mistresses, I would swiftly exit the scene, leaving the men in my wake. Surprisingly, many of these once-faithless husbands found their way back to their devoted partners. For those husbands who remained steadfast in their desire for a divorce, my role shifted to gathering evidence of their infidelity. My aim was to secure the maximum compensation for the wives during the property division, preventing the husbands from squandering their assets on other love interests.

Apex Group stood as the behemoth of Raybourne's corporate world. Its chairman, Dylan Hewitt, had achieved business mogul status through his wife's connections. However, such marriages often concealed hidden agendas. These men viewed marriage as a means to propel themselves upward, only to repay their partners' support with ingratitude once they attained wealth and power. Reclaiming their rightful assets became a daunting task for the wives, even if they desired to do so. Despite my wealth of experience, I approached this particular mission with a tinge of uncertainty. These modern-day men were shrewd and ruthless, and a single misstep could lead me down a treacherous path of futility and danger.

Intrigued by Theresa's handsome pay, I decided to embrace the risk and take on the challenge.

She provided me with only a few tidbits about Dylan.

Firstly, he didn't possess a strong inclination towards women. Secondly, I was forewarned that successfully enticing him would require a delicate touch and considerable patience, as it could easily swing either way.

Having navigated the complexities of thirty previous cases, I found myself faced with the most demanding task based on Theresa's guidance.

She handed me two photographs of her husband. In one, he was deeply immersed in his work, displaying an unwavering focus. The other captured him engaged in a fitness routine, showcasing a well-proportioned, robust physique. Although appearing slim, it was evident that he possessed underlying muscular strength. Although I could only see his side profile and back in those photos, I had to admit that Dylan possessed a captivating allure, surpassing any man I had encountered before.

Curiosity prompted me to ask Theresa a crucial question. "Do you seek to salvage your marriage or pursue a divorce?"

"Divorce." Without a moment's hesitation, she responded with unwavering determination, "I want to claim at least half of his assets."

A furrow formed on my brow involuntarily. Her husband, the chairman of Apex Group, held a position of substantial wealth. Acquiring billions of dollars from an ex-spouse had never materialized in our country's history of divorce settlements.

Sensing my hesitation, Theresa placed a substantial stack of cash on the table and said, "Miss Garrett, I am aware of your exceptional skills. Invest more time in coaxing him into making a significant mistake. The more incriminating the evidence, the greater my chances of victory."

Silence enveloped the room as I weighed the gravity of this decision.

Her voice laced with desperation, Theresa continued with a sigh, "I have endured emotional abuse since the day I married him. He intends to discard me and coerce me into relinquishing all my possessions. I am left with no choice but to find a way to protect myself. Miss Garrett, there is no need for you to fear exposure. I have no desire for a scandal. I will handle the negotiations with him privately."

Despite Theresa's reassurances, lingering doubts still plagued my mind. "What if you fail to reach a mutually acceptable agreement with him?" I queried, skeptical of Dylan's susceptibility to manipulation by a woman.

With unwavering resolve, Theresa responded, "In that case, I will have no choice but to proceed with legal action. Rest assured, I will ensure your anonymity until the court proceedings."

While her words attempted to allay my concerns, I couldn't shake off the lingering unease. Furrowing my brows, I voiced another pressing worry. "And what if your husband seeks revenge against me?"

Theresa's patience waned, her tone firm. "Miss Garrett, now that you're in this business, it's inevitable to take risks. I'm confident that you possess the skills necessary to handle such challenges."

Taking a deep breath, I placed the stack of money into my handbag. "I will endeavor to get the job done within three months."

Theresa stirred her coffee with grace, her voice laced with caution. "Miss Garrett, while I appreciate your confidence, I must remind you that Dylan is not easily swayed. I strongly advise you to adopt a long-term strategy and proceed with meticulous planning. How about we set a timeline of two years?"

Two years seemed far too extensive for my liking. In my experience, there was no prey I couldn't ensnare within three months.

Confidently, I asserted, "I cannot afford to invest so much time on a single order. Three months will suffice."

Theresa smiled, picking up her shopping bags. "Then I wish you the best of luck."

With Theresa's help, I assumed a new identity. I became a girl hailing from a modest background, fresh out of a prestigious university, and untouched by romantic entanglements. The upper echelons of society held a cautious approach, weighing risks before taking action. They often gravitated towards individuals with a simple, unassuming charm. Armed with the information provided by Theresa, I initiated contact with Dylan.

As the call connected, a deep voice resonated from the other end. "Hello?"

I replied, "Hello, is this Mr. Hewitt?"

Dylan's response came in a flat tone, "Who is calling?"

In a gentle voice, I introduced myself, "I am the assistant hired by Mrs. Hewitt. My name is Sabrina Garrett. Today-"

Before I could finish my words, Dylan interjected abruptly.

"Have you been to Emerald Boulevard?"

I raised my head, scanning my surroundings. "Yes, I have, but I'm not familiar with it."

"Meet me there now," Dylan commanded before abruptly ending the call.

I stared at my cellphone screen, contemplating Dylan's demeanor. He exuded a resolute air, an indifference that bordered on unromantic. Indeed, he would prove to be a challenging target.

Rouging my lips, I carefully wiped away the excess color, leaving only a subtle, alluring shade on my delicate pout. Dealing with such a cunning individual required caution. I couldn't afford to appear too casual, as it might project an air of carelessness or boredom. Conversely, excessive preening would come across as overly assertive. Understanding the delicate balance was paramount to success.

Once satisfied with my makeup and a spritz of perfume, I set off toward Emerald Boulevard.

As dusk settled, the sky adorned itself with a reddish hue, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd. It seemed as though they had boundless energy, undeterred by the weariness of a busy day.

I drove across the viaduct and parked in front of a convenience store. Rolling down the window, I gazed at the Apex Group building. I spotted a slender figure bathed in the radiant sunset glow. His back resembled the one I had seen in the photograph. He stood there, his expression unreadable, as if devoid of interest in the world around him. Positioned in front of a French window, he toyed with something in his hand. The metallic object rolled over his fingertips, casting a glimmer of silver light.

As I pulled over, I discerned that it was a lighter.

Dylan possessed a charm that surpassed his photo.

He wore a cream-colored turtleneck shirt, its collar delicately skimming his prominent Adam's apple, adding a touch of allure. His grey woolen overcoat hung unbuttoned, revealing a pair of sleek black suit pants. A mature aura emanated from him, and his eyes, a deep and mysterious shade of blue, resembled the tranquil depths of the sea. Women would be instantly drawn to him.

Dylan stood apart from the men I had encountered thus far. He possessed the untamed spirit of a wild stallion, an essence of unyielding defiance. Such a man left an indelible impression. Upon closer observation, I found his allure intensifying. He might not have possessed conventional handsome features, but he exuded a distinctive, heroic aura that captivated attention.

Of all the men I had encountered, Dylan exuded a rugged masculinity. There was a brooding quality to his countenance, characteristic of a man driven by insatiable desires for material wealth, power, and women.

I speculated that his apparent disinterest in women was merely a guise, concealing his hidden hypocrisies and desires. Even Theresa, his own wife, failed to fully perceive the depths of his true nature.

At that moment, it dawned on me that I was about to face a formidable adversary.

Given Dylan's status and circumstances, countless women must have thrown themselves at him. He likely possessed an immunity to the allure of love affairs. Men who exuded an air of bureaucracy and frivolity were easy prey, but those with unwavering self-control and worldly wisdom, epitomized by Dylan, proved to be the most challenging conquests.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement. With haste, I crossed the road and positioned myself before him. "I apologize for my tardiness, Mr. Hewitt."

Dylan glanced at me impassively, responding, "It's alright. I just arrived."

I offered another apology, acknowledging, "It's inexcusable for me to keep my boss waiting."

Dylan adjusted his cufflink, his index finger hovering around his wrist. A smile tugged at his lips as he remarked, "You're quite interesting."

He ascended the steps, and as a gust of wind swept by, I caught a whiff of alcohol emanating from him. It seemed he had just concluded a business engagement. I followed him into the elevator, his back facing me. He casually pushed the eleventh floor, and then turned to me, posing a casual inquiry. "How did my wife come to hire you?"

I fixed my gaze upon Dylan's reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. He sensed my scrutiny and locked eyes with me. As our gazes intertwined, an overwhelming sense of oppression emanated from him.

With composure, I replied, "One of Mrs. Hewitt's acquaintances happens to be one of my university professors. He recommended me to her."

A smile flickered in his eyes as he queried, "Is that so?"

Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly changed the topic. "Mrs. Hewitt mentioned that you dedicate considerable attention to your career and have little time for rest. Hence, she hired me to assist you."

Dylan stood tall, his gaze fixed upon the illuminated LED screen in the elevator, his silence speaking volumes.

Internally, I conducted a second assessment of Dylan. He was remarkably astute and inscrutable. He would undoubtedly remain on high alert against any individuals arranged by Theresa, leaving me with less than a fifty percent chance of success.

During my initial days at the company, I made various attempts to establish a connection with Dylan, but he remained distant and unresponsive. He never gave me an opportunity to engage in conversation with him.

Avoiding direct flirting, as it could potentially make him defensive, I took a different approach by building a good relationship with Dylan's secretary, Rachael Diaz. Through her, I gained the responsibility of delivering documents to Dylan. This finally provided me with an opportunity to establish a closer rapport with him.

After I entered the chairman's office multiple times with a stack of documents, Dylan's expression turned sour as he questioned, "Why are you here once again?"

Meeting his gaze, I calmly responded, "Rachael is occupied with other tasks, so I'm assisting her in delivering the documents to you."

Dylan sighed and motioned for me to leave as he reached for the folder. "Thank you."

However, I chose to ignore his subtle hint and pressed on. "Mr. Hewitt, may I address you differently?"

Without looking up, he replied apathetically, "Whatever."

Maintaining a pleasant tone, I continued, "While all the other employees refer to you as Mr. Hewitt, I prefer to have a more personal connection. Would it be acceptable for me to address you by your first name in private?"

Dylan turned another page of the documents and responded with indifference, "Makes no difference to me."

Glancing at the books on the shelf behind him, I casually asked, "I noticed you have a collection of foreign novels. Do you enjoy reading them?"

Dylan picked up another document and replied, "Those books are merely for show."

Undeterred, I carried on, "I recently read a novel called Passionate Lover. It explores the intense and uninhibited love between individuals, unconcerned with societal norms or public opinion. They lived their lives driven by desire, experiencing a sense of liberation. It's a captivating depiction, and I find myself longing for such a passionate existence."

Dylan loosened his tie with one hand and clarified, "Those books serve as mere decorations. I've never actually read them. I must disagree with your viewpoint. I place great value on restraint." Closing the final document after signing it, he inquired, "Is there anything else?"

It was clear that Dylan had no interest in fostering a confidante, so I had to change my approach. Slightly bending down, I aimed for the calendar on the table and accidentally caught the buttons of my shirt in its corner. As I straightened up, two buttons were torn from my collar, and one of them rolled into Dylan's hand. However, I pretended to be oblivious and smiled warmly at him. "Dylan, as your personal assistant, it's crucial for me to know your preferences and dislikes. For instance, any specific foods to avoid or things you particularly enjoy. Could you offer me some guidance?"

Dylan gazed at me calmly, offering no response.

With audacity, I leaned in closer, accentuating the graceful curve of my waist and buttocks. Locking eyes with him, I said softly, "I aspire to fulfill your desires in every aspect." I gently caressed his right hand with the tips of my fingers and expressed, "I'm curious to learn more about who you are."

As anticipated, Dylan proved to be highly perceptive of such subtle insinuations. His gaze brushed over my partially concealed, partially visible ivory-toned chest. Mindful of maintaining an air of elegance, I refrained from revealing too much of my breasts, recognizing that excessive exposure could give off an impression of vulgarity. This combination of alluring hints and restrained allure held an irresistible charm.

In contrast to those men whose eyes gleamed with desire upon beholding a beautiful woman's body, Dylan maintained a poker face, his emotions carefully concealed.

He withdrew his hand and uttered, "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time to guide you."

After being rejected, I summoned my utmost acting abilities. The anticipation in my eyes transformed into disappointment, followed by a profound sadness. Slowly, tears began to well up in my eyes. "Well, then, please contact me whenever you find the time. I am willing to listen and learn from you whenever you're available."

Despite my heartfelt performance, Dylan remained unmoved. He ruthlessly rejected me once again, stating, "I'm sorry, but I am not available at any time."

He picked up another document from the corner of the table and proceeded to examine it. Without looking up, he ordered, "Please leave."

I maintained my posture for a few more seconds, silently acknowledging my defeat, and finally accepted that I had been unsuccessful.

I shattered my own record. Having been in this profession for a considerable amount of time, it was the first instance where I had experienced such a resolute rejection from a man.

Despite my inner reluctance, I mustered all my strength to conceal it. Straightening my dress, I began making my way towards the door. However, just as I was about to leave, Dylan abruptly halted me with the words. "Wait a minute."

My pupils dilated in response. Indeed, it was quite surprising. How could any man refuse the allure of a beautiful woman?

Swiftly adapting my expression, I turned around and gazed at him with an innocent look. "Do you happen to have some time now?"

Dylan inquired, "May I ask how old you are?"

Taken aback by his question, I replied with surprise, "I am twenty-six years old."

Nodding, he remarked, "You are at the prime of your youth."

Having concluded his assessment, Dylan resumed his work as if nothing had transpired.

Based on my past experiences, it typically took me three proactive attempts to capture my target. However, Darren proved to be an exception. Until now, he had shown no sign of interest in me, let alone contemplate infidelity towards his wife due to my presence. In the past, I encountered several men who feigned sincerity, making it challenging to ensnare them. However, seducing Dylan proved to be an even greater challenge.

The following day, Dylan was nowhere to be found. He had traveled to a nearby city to conduct an investigation related to an acquisition, accompanied by Rachael. Typically, when the boss went on a business trip, he would bring along a personal assistant to handle minor tasks. However, Dylan didn't even consider taking me with him. I felt like my plan had hit a dead end. Unexpectedly, on the second night, he contacted me and requested that I meet him at Royalness Winery.

As I made my way towards the winery, I decided to call Theresa and update her on the progress. However, she quickly dampened my excitement with a dose of realism. "Don't get too carried away just yet. Dylan is a man who takes pleasure in fooling others."

Balancing the phone in one hand while gripping the steering wheel with the other, I reassured Theresa, "Don't worry, I'm skilled at playing that game too."

Theresa expressed her surprise. "Your plan is progressing much smoother than I anticipated. Perhaps you really have a chance to win over Dylan."

After ending the call, I arrived at Royalness Winery in a short time.

Following the room number provided by Dylan, I made my way to a private room. As I pushed open the door, I found Dylan engaged in a conversation about the acquisition with a middle-aged man. Approaching them, I respectfully greeted Dylan, "Hello, Mr. Hewitt."

Dylan halted his conversation and directed his gaze towards me, questioning, "Can you drink?"

When a man asked a woman if she could drink or not, his motivation was the same as when a man offered a woman to see a movie at midnight. Every adult understood that implicitly. Theresa appeared to have overestimated Dylan. There was a chink in his armor, and I had discovered it.

Feigning innocence, I casually remarked, "Certainly, but I have a tendency to become drunk quite easily."

Dylan failed to grasp my subtle suggestion. He responded, "If that's the case, you can choose not to drink. Just step aside and await my command."

Surprised by his lack of romance, I discreetly clenched my fists and maintained a composed demeanor. I replied, "Certainly, Mr. Hewitt."

The middle-aged man raised his glass, making a slight clinking sound as it met Dylan's. "I've been informed that Lance Cooper is also getting involved in this acquisition."

Dylan swirled his glass gently, causing the liquid inside to move in a subtle motion. "My wife's uncle possesses great ambition," he commented. "He is constantly in a state of restlessness."

The middle-aged man expressed, "Mr. Hewitt, I am curious to witness how you plan to suppress his ambitions."

Dylan narrowed his eyes as he observed the wine in his glass. "He is no match for me."

Upon hearing this, I chuckled softly. I possessed a keen sense of judgment, particularly when it came to assessing men. Undoubtedly, Dylan exuded a strong sense of confidence. He held firm beliefs in his charismatic appeal to women as well as his prowess in the realm of business. Confidence was undoubtedly a desirable trait, but it was important to tread carefully on the fine line between confidence and conceit. Once a person veered into conceit, their downfall was imminent. Dylan had risen to become a prominent figure in the business world, and even his wife couldn't challenge his position. It was evident that he possessed a consistently astute and discerning mindset.

The sound of my laughter drew the attention of the middle-aged man seated across from Dylan. He glanced at me under the room's illumination and inquired, "Mr. Hewitt, have you hired a new secretary?"

Dylan introduced me with a smile, "She is the personal assistant my wife has hired for me."

The middle-aged man chuckled and remarked, "I suppose you must be quite pleased with this new assistant."

Dylan retrieved a cigarette and idly toyed with it while deep in thought. "She's decent. Neither exceptionally intelligent nor dull-witted."

The man carried on, adding, "Coincidentally, the girl of my dreams bore a striking resemblance to your assistant."

"Really?" Dylan leaned forward with curiosity, tilting his head slightly, and inquired, "May I know your name?"

Despite my having served as his assistant for nearly a week, Dylan had not yet managed to remember my name. It wasn't that Dylan had a poor memory; in fact, he possessed an exceptional recollection when it came to matters pertaining to his business. However, he displayed a lack of interest in anything beyond the realms of wealth and power.

In a respectful tone, I responded, "Sabrina. Sabrina Garrett."

Dylan took a sip of his wine, effectively concluding the topic at hand.

The business appointment stretched on until ten o'clock. I trailed behind Dylan as we exited Royalness Winery.

Dylan settled into the back seat while I took my place in the passenger seat. Once inside the car, Dylan fell into a contemplative silence, puffing on his cigarette.

Since I was unaware of Dylan's address, I instructed the driver to take him home as per their usual routine. Technically, there was no need for me to accompany the driver in sending Dylan back. However, I recognized that this was a rare opportunity to spend time with him, so I felt compelled to seize the chance.

As the driver navigated through the streets, I stole glances at Dylan through the rearview mirror, observing his presence and demeanor.

Tonight, Dylan evoked various emotions within me, leaving me with a mix of distinct impressions and sensations.

As shadows danced alongside neon lights outside the car window, their interplay cast specks of illumination upon Dylan's countenance. Enveloped in a haze of smoke, he appeared somber and detached from the world around him. Dylan was known for his customary business attire and serious demeanor. However, tonight was different. He had donned a vibrant burgundy shirt paired with a leather overcoat. Some buttons were left undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. His hair was styled with gel, meticulously maintaining its shape. With a cigarette between his lips, he exuded an air of casual elegance and undeniable allure.

As the night unfolded, I contemplated how best to seize this opportunity.

Out of the blue, Dylan, who had been reclining with his eyes shut, abruptly opened them. He extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and posed a direct question. "Do you think I'm handsome?"

Caught off guard, I didn't catch his question clearly. "Pardon me, could you please repeat what you said?"

He fixed his gaze upon me with his intense eyes and repeated, "Do you find me attractive?"

Uncertain of how to respond, I met his gaze without uttering a word, unsure of what to say at that moment.

Perhaps due to the wine he had consumed earlier that evening, Dylan seemed to be slightly intoxicated. Abruptly, he leaned forward, drawing closer to me in an unexpected manner.

Dylan's complexion turned a shade of crimson from the effects of alcohol. As he leaned closer, the mingling scent of his breath, tainted with alcohol and cigarettes, reached my nose. It momentarily distracted me. His flawless complexion was a rarity among men, almost radiating under the sunlight. Thankfully, his chiseled jawline and distinct features balanced out any hint of femininity that could have accompanied his smooth skin. Upon closer examination, I noticed his captivating eyes and thin lips.

It was often said that individuals with such eyes and lips were frivolous and prone to affection. However, I believed Dylan to be an exception. Even in his intoxicated state, he managed to maintain a certain level of sobriety in his appearance.

In a languid tone, I murmured, "Yes, you are undeniably attractive."

His response was a question. "Which part?"

Whenever a somber and serious man like him revealed a hint of dissipation, his allure became irresistible.

Leaning in closer, I whispered, "I adore every inch of you."

He posed the question with an expressionless face. "Is being good-looking an advantage for a man?"

In response, I countered, "Isn't it? After all, the desire for both food and sex is deeply ingrained in human nature. People naturally gravitate towards beauty. Even if Adonis himself were here, you would be no less captivating."

Dylan chuckled, clearly entertained by my response. "Nonsense. Are you drunk too? So, tell me, what does this Adonis look like?"

In a playful manner, I gestured with my hands and replied, "Well, according to his portrait in the book, he has a rather elongated face. Trust me, he's nowhere near as handsome as you."

Dylan's gaze shifted to my lips as he observed, "You're wearing lipstick."

Before I could respond, he swiftly added, "I prefer my assistant without makeup."

With a natural and gentle motion, I extended my hands to adjust his collar. "If it bothers you to see me wearing makeup, I'll gladly refrain from wearing it tomorrow."

Dylan glanced at my fingers delicately adjusting his collar and leaned back in the seat, creating a slight distance between us. "Will you give up anything that I happen to dislike?"

I understood that his comment served as a reminder for me to maintain a sense of proportion and not become overly accommodating.

I responded with a subtly double-edged remark. "Rest assured, I won't engage in anything that could be harmful to you. But when it comes to things that are actually beneficial to you, perhaps your dislike is merely a display of stubbornness." Leaning forward, I extended my hand towards his heart, implying a deeper meaning. "Men may often be stubborn, but they have the capacity to easily become soft-hearted."

The soft glow of the street lamp illuminated our faces through the glass window, casting an intimate ambiance. I made no effort to conceal my intentions, letting my actions speak for themselves. Dylan gazed at me for a moment before averting his gaze in silence.

Anticipation filled the air as this was to be the first night I would spend with him. The unknown nature of the experience brought about a thrilling sensation, heightening the excitement between us.

Half an hour later, the car came to a stop in front of an apartment building. I stepped out of the vehicle, followed by Dylan, whom I assisted. The driver glanced at him and inquired, "Mr. Hewitt, would you like me to accompany you upstairs?"

Dylan appeared unsteady, his steps slow and heavy as he moved along the ground. It seemed that he hadn't quite heard the driver's question clearly. Acting swiftly, I caught up with him and provided support, guiding him into the building. Observing this scene, the driver remained silent, refraining from any further comments.

Dylan's residence was located on the third floor, a spacious apartment that awaited us.

I entered the apartment, following Dylan's lead. However, I excused myself, mentioning the need to use the restroom, and proceeded inside. Taking the opportunity, I meticulously observed the items within. Beside the washbasin, I noticed a shaver and men's toiletries, indicating that the space was solely occupied by Dylan. There were no traces of a woman's long hair in the bathtub, nor were there any used condoms in the trash can. All signs pointed to the fact that Dylan did, indeed, live alone.

Feeling a sense of astonishment, I returned to the living room. Initially, I harbored doubts about the notion that a prosperous man in the prime of his life could have no inclination towards women. However, the evidence before me gradually convinced me that there truly existed individuals who possessed such remarkable self-restraint. I gazed at Dylan with admiration as he sat on the sofa, his eyes closed and a hint of weariness evident on his face.

Respecting his need for rest, I refrained from disturbing him further. Moving quietly, I tiptoed towards the window and gently pulled back the curtains, allowing the soft moonlight to filter into the space.

As the light streamed into the room through the window, Dylan was momentarily startled by the sudden brightness. He quickly shielded his eyes with his hand and impatiently instructed, "Close the curtains."

Responding swiftly to Dylan's request, I closed the curtains, and switched on the table lamp, casting a gentle glow in the room. In a gentle tone, I inquired, "Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to take a hot shower?"

Dylan chose to ignore my questions, focusing instead on removing his leather overcoat. Leaning back against the sofa, he remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.

I walked over to the corner bar, pouring a glass of water before returning to Dylan. Just as he was about to reach for it, I seized the opportunity to gently hold his hand and said, "Let me assist you."

Sensing the warmth of my palm against his, Dylan slowly opened his eyes, fixing his gaze upon me.

Placing the glass beside his mouth, I offered the water to Dylan, but he made no attempt to drink it.

Leaning closer to him, I inquired softly, "Are you concerned that the water might be too hot?"

Despite my proximity and question, Dylan remained motionless, giving no indication of his thoughts or desires.

Feigning innocence, I brought the glass to my own lips and took a sip, and then remarked, "It's neither hot nor cold."

I delicately licked the water off my lower lip, allowing my voice to take on a low and seductive tone. "The water is sweet, Dylan."

A fleeting glimmer flickered in Dylan's eyes, but just as quickly, he regained his composure, appearing calm once more.

Placing the glass once more beside his mouth, I gently encouraged him. "It truly is sweet. Why don't you give it a try?"

Continuing to lower my voice, I whispered into his ear, my tone laced with allure. "Perhaps it's my lips that hold the sweetness, not the water."

Dylan's gaze fixated on the lipstick mark left on the edge of the glass. The expression in his eyes was inscrutable, making it impossible for me to discern his thoughts at that moment. An uncomfortable silence settled over the living room, enveloping us both.

The atmosphere felt charged, as if we were engaged in a silent competition. As time passed, my grip on the glass of water became strained, causing my hand to ache and tremble uncontrollably.

With no other recourse, I broke the lingering silence, my voice soft and filled with concern. "Aren't you feeling thirsty, Dylan?"

As if breaking free from the spell, the tense atmosphere dissipated, replaced by a more relaxed ambiance. Dylan chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "Is part of your job description now to be a water bearer?"

Despite his smile, there was an unmistakable coldness in Dylan's expression. However, I stood my ground, prepared for the possibility of rejection, and replied without hesitation. "I am here to fulfill all your needs in life," I asserted.

Dylan unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt, adopting a more relaxed posture as he reclined. A mischievous smile graced his lips as he questioned, "My needs?" Dylan savored the implications of his words, his tone filled with significance. He emphasized, "A man's needs cannot be fulfilled by just any woman."

I delicately traced my little finger along the metal buckle of his belt, providing a clear and obvious hint. "Can I be the one to satisfy your needs?"

Dylan was met with a visage that was both provocative and innocent. I was well aware of the allure that I displayed now.

However, Dylan was not an ordinary man. He accepted the glass of water from my hand but placed it on the tea table, adopting a somewhat distant demeanor. It was clear that he intended to convey that tonight was to be an ordinary night without any romantic entanglements. "It depends on the nature of the need."

Raising the metal buckle in my hand, I met Dylan's gaze with determination. "I am willing to do my best to satisfy you, as long as you make your desires known."

Dylan remained silent, neither confirming nor rejecting my offer. Seizing the moment, I feigned clumsiness, as if accidentally dropping the buckle, only to swiftly catch it. In that instance, I took the opportunity to pull at the hem of his shirt, revealing his well-defined muscles to the open air. As my hand made contact with his warm skin, a surge of excitement coursed through me, undeniable and palpable.

Dylan's gaze shifted downwards, his eyes fixated on the sight of my hand resting on his abdomen. The stark contrast between my soft and delicate hand against his bronzed abdomen created a striking visual impact. There was a flicker of enchantment in his expression, as if captivated by the contrasting textures and the allure they held. Just as I thought I was gaining the upper hand in our subtle power play, Dylan abruptly withdrew the belt buckle and released his shirt from my grasp. Rising to his feet, he made his way towards the bedroom. "I'm going to bed now. The driver will take you back."

Without a moment's hesitation, Dylan closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the living room. Unprecedented frustration overwhelmed me, consuming my thoughts and emotions.

Dylan's defense was akin to an impenetrable fortress, an unyielding wall that seemed impervious to any of my attempts. It appeared that no matter what I tried, his defenses remained steadfast and unbreakable. Despite my failure tonight, I refused to let despondency consume me. Instead, I remained resilient and determined. If my previous approach did not work, I would adapt my strategy. It was far too early to consider giving up.

After spending a considerable amount of time alone waiting in front of the apartment, the driver eventually departed at half past one in the morning. As the light from the car faded, I seized the opportunity to make my way into Dylan's bedroom. The city was enveloped in a thick blanket of fog, creating an atmosphere of mystique and obscurity. The gentle orange glow of the wall lamp illuminated the room with a soft ambiance. Dylan lay in peaceful slumber, curled up on his side. In the tranquil state of sleep, Dylan appeared serene and undisturbed. Behind his calm face, the depths of his true thoughts and emotions remained concealed, unknown to anyone else.

Over the course of several years, I had picked up various men, yet I had never slept with anyone.

Sexual intercourse was merely the lowest level of seduction. A man who stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid relished the art of flirtation, where he could revel in the satisfaction of conquest. I firmly believed that the true key to reaching the highest level of seduction was to maintain an element of unattainability, never fully granting a man the pleasure of having me.

I would indulge in moments of intimacy, such as soaking in hot springs with a man or flaunting my body in a bikini before him. I would playfully wear black silk stockings and subtly tease by brushing my foot against a man's thigh under the table. These actions would provide hints and create a romantic atmosphere, but I always held back from fully surrendering myself. I skillfully maintained a delicate balance where they desired me intensely, yet were hesitant to disrupt the enchanting ambiance. This approach fueled their infatuation, leaving them yearning for more. Having initially planned to employ my usual seductive tactics with Dylan, I quickly realized that mere subtle tricks would not be effective in captivating him. It was evident that if I wanted to conquer him, I would need to elevate my approach and employ more daring and unconventional strategies.

Realizing that my previous attempts had not yielded the desired results, I made the decision to retreat from Dylan's master bedroom and instead spent the night in the guest room. Although the act of sneaking into his bed might have seemed like a lowly method, I understood that in the realm of high-level seduction, unconventional strategies were sometimes necessary. Staying overnight held a symbolic significance, marking the beginning of a game of love and intrigue between us. Ambiguous contacts often served as the catalyst for countless romantic tales, setting the stage for all that was to come.

With a calculated plan in mind, I contemplated for a while before settling on a bold move: strategically hiding my lace bra under the bedsheet. This discreet and alluring gesture had the potential to ignite Dylan's desire, playing a part in my ultimate conquest of his heart.

The following morning, I made an effort to rise early and set out to buy breakfast. As I returned to Dylan's apartment, I found him emerging from his room, dressed in light-colored pajamas. His appearance indicated that he had recently showered, exuding a sense of freshness and vitality. Approaching Dylan, I was about to speak when the sound of a woman's voice echoed from the bathroom, uttering, "I'll use your towel, Dylan."

Dylan's gaze met mine as he responded to the woman, "Alright."

In that moment of silent exchange, a realization struck me. Hastily, I covered my mouth with my hand and swiftly made my way into Dylan's bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. Through the narrow opening of the partially open door, I observed Dylan's reaction closely, only to find him standing there with a composed demeanor.

Theresa entered the living room, and I couldn't help but notice the dampness on the front of her clothes. Frustrated, she voiced her complaint. "I had intended to make coffee for you, but it all spilled."

Dylan inquired, "Have you had breakfast?"

Theresa shook her head and replied, "No, I haven't eaten yet. I came straight here after waking up."

Dylan walked towards the dining room, with Theresa following behind. She said, "Dylan, I'm going to travel abroad."

Dylan sat down and picked up a magazine, casually flipping through its pages. "Have you decided on a destination?"

Theresa said, "Moscow. There will be a grand art exhibition there next week. Do you have time to go with me?"

Dylan glanced up from the magazine, his expression unreadable. "I'm afraid I have prior commitments next week."

Theresa pretended to be disappointed. "That's alright, Dylan. I understand. Maybe next time."

Dylan inquired, "Are you going there alone?"

Theresa's expression turned solemn as she asked, "What are you implying?"

Dylan put down the magazine and said, "I will try to rearrange my schedule and join you on the trip."

Theresa stood there, utterly taken aback, her silence stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Dylan examined her from head to toe before posing the question. "Is something wrong?"

Theresa composed herself and replied, "Certainly, I would be delighted if you accompany me. However, considering your potential trip abroad, what would happen to the company's matters?"

Dylan burst into laughter as soon as she finished speaking. "I simply can't leave." He chuckled. "I apologize for getting your hopes up."

Theresa didn't get angry; instead, she appeared relieved. She chose to drop the subject and took the initiative to bring up a different topic. "By the way, where is Miss Garrett? Are you pleased with her performance?"

Dylan flipped the hourglass at the corner of the table, signaling a shift in focus. He inquired, "Which specific aspect of the performance are you referring to?"

Theresa rested her chin on her cupped hand, considering her response. "I'm referring to both her abilities and her behavior."

Dylan pondered for a moment before responding. "She falls somewhere in the middle. Neither particularly good nor bad."

Theresa expressed her thoughts. "Miss Garrett is a dedicated employee. She is sincere and hardworking. I feel reassured having her by your side."

Theresa sought to gauge Dylan's response, hoping to discern whether he would reveal any ulterior motives I might have had. If Dylan chose not to expose my intentions, it would imply that he was providing me with cover. In a way, his hesitation and compliance would indirectly endorse my actions.

Dylan remained silent for a moment before responding. "To some extent, yes."

As the sand trickled down through the hourglass, Theresa maintained her silence. At that moment, her phone rang, capturing her attention. She glanced at the screen briefly and decided to end the call.

Dylan inquired, "Why didn't you answer the phone? Is it because I'm here?"

Theresa responded calmly, "What makes you think that? A friend of mine invited me to join her for a beauty treatment, but I don't really feel like going."

Dylan remained seemingly unaffected, stealing a quick glance at the screen of Theresa's phone out of the corner of his eye. He then shifted his attention to his watch and stated, "I have to head to the company now."

Theresa rose from her seat and reminded Dylan, "Don't forget about Dad's birthday next month."

As she walked out of the apartment, Theresa paused and fixed her gaze on Dylan without uttering a single word. Sensing her longing, he embraced her tightly. Theresa deliberately took a step back, coaxing him towards the doorway, and embraced him, strategically positioning themselves within view of the surveillance camera in the corridor.

In a legal context, when a couple seeks a divorce following a prolonged separation, the division of property typically occurs through negotiation between the parties involved. Essentially, if Dylan did not agree with Theresa's proposed plan for property division, simply filing a lawsuit would not be sufficient to enforce her desired outcome. To strengthen her case and potentially receive legal assistance, Theresa would need to provide evidence demonstrating that their relationship was not irreparably broken and that Dylan had engaged in an extramarital affair. To ensure a favorable outcome, Theresa would have to gather evidence showcasing their love and commitment during their marriage prior to their separation. By presenting this evidence in court, even if Dylan resisted dividing their marital property equally, Theresa could potentially compel him to comply through the legal process of filing a lawsuit.

Unbeknownst to Dylan, Theresa had her own plan in motion. After they embraced for a brief period, Theresa broke the silence and said softly, "Take care of yourself."

Dylan nodded in acknowledgement of her words.

After Theresa departed in the elevator, Dylan secured the door and returned to the dining table. With a hint of amusement, he asked, "How long do you intend to hide there?"

I exited the master bedroom and positioned myself next to him. All the sand had descended to the lower portion of the hourglass. Dylan flipped it upside down once more. "You stayed here last night."

I offered my explanation in a hushed tone. "The driver didn't wait for me. When I went downstairs, he had already left."

Dylan chose not to expose my lie and instead responded with a faint smile, "What a coincidence. Let's hope it doesn't happen again."

I bent down and softly brushed my shoulder against his back. "Dylan," I murmured. "I was so exhausted last night that I ended up sleeping in the guest room."

As he leaned over to avoid physical contact with me, I closed the distance between us once more. The tip of my nose hovered beside his ear, and my warm breath caressed it gently. "Do you know why I hid from your wife?"

Dylan turned around, facing me directly. Neither of us evaded the other's gaze, and there was no retreat this time. In that moment, our expressions were laid bare, allowing us to see each other clearly.

With a hint of coquetry, I said playfully, "Don't you think there's something special between us?"

Dylan gazed at me with a calm and composed expression.

I maintained a cheerful smile as I carried on, "I had this silly thought that your wife might catch us in the act, so my instinct kicked in, and I dodged."

"Really?" Dylan replied in a meaningful tone, "That can only be an illusion. My wife won't have the opportunity to do such a thing."

"Oh?" I straightened up slowly, taken aback by Dylan's firm statement. He continued with determination, "Because I will never betray her. No woman is worth that mistake."

Men often believed they were immune to making mistakes, but many found themselves overpowered by desire. However, since he had made his stance clear, I chose not to argue. I placed the breakfast in front of him and remarked, "You truly love your wife."

Dylan picked up a sandwich and inquired, "How did you figure it out?"

Pretending to be unaware of their situation, I sincerely praised him, "As a husband, you exhibit remarkable clarity and loyalty."

Instead of refuting, Dylan responded with a smile, acknowledging, "You possess excellent powers of observation."