Revenge Seduction: Captivating The Wall Street Monster

The water in the black marble bathtub had gone cold.

Corrine Watts rested her bare arms on the edge of the tub. Her fingertips traced the surface of the water. The chill seeped into her skin, but it did nothing to numb the burning humiliation in her chest. Arron had abandoned her at the birthday party downstairs. He had left her standing there while he walked away with another woman.

A faint electronic click echoed through the silent suite.

The heavy walnut door of the penthouse had just unlocked. Corrine's heart slammed against her ribs. She stopped breathing.

Heavy, measured footsteps crossed the living room carpet. The sound of expensive leather shoes moving closer to the bathroom.

A tall, dark shadow fell across the frosted glass of the bathroom door. It blocked the light from the hallway. He was right outside.

The brass doorknob turned. A large, knuckle-heavy hand pushed the door open.

Cold air rushed into the steam-filled bathroom. The white mist swirled violently around the black tiles.

Cassius Mayer stepped into the room. He wore a charcoal-gray tailored suit. His hand froze in mid-air, right as he was about to loosen his tie.

His deep blue eyes locked onto the woman in the tub. They were the color of freezing ocean water. His pupils contracted slightly at the sudden sight of her bare shoulders.

Corrine tilted her wet face upward. She looked straight at the most feared man on Wall Street through the thinning steam. She forced the corners of her mouth to curl into a provocative smile.

Cassius's brow furrowed instantly. He recognized her face. This was his useless adopted son's girlfriend. A flash of pure disgust crossed his eyes.

Corrine did not shrink back. Instead, she slowly stood halfway up in the tub. Water droplets slid down her pale skin. She wanted him to see her vulnerability. She wanted him to see the trap.

He took a deliberate half-step back, a purely reflexive motion designed to immediately establish and enforce a strict boundary of distance. His eyes narrowed sharply, sweeping over her exposed figure not with any trace of desire, but with the freezing, clinical assessment of a hazardous problem that needed to be swiftly disposed of.

Corrine stepped out of the tub. Her bare feet hit the freezing black marble floor. She walked straight toward him.

"Stop right there."

Cassius's voice was a low, commanding growl. It carried the heavy pressure of a man who owned everything he looked at.

Corrine ignored the warning. She closed the distance. Her wet feet left dark footprints on the stone floor, erasing the safe space between them.

She raised a dripping hand. Her fingertips brushed against the lapel of his suit jacket. She felt the solid heat of his chest radiating through the expensive fabric.

Cassius moved faster than she could blink. His large hand clamped down on her slender wrist. His grip was bone-crushing.

Corrine sucked in a sharp breath. The pain shot up her arm. But she used the momentum to lean forward, pressing her soft body against his stiff chest.

Cassius's breath hitched. The sudden contact burned him. He should have shoved her away immediately. But the scent of crushed roses rose from her wet skin, and his hands hesitated for half a second.

Corrine stood on her tiptoes. She brought her lips inches from his ear.

"Make him regret it," she whispered.

The air in the bathroom thickened. Cassius's eyes darkened to pitch black. The angle of his hand shifted. His thumb slowly, dangerously, stroked the racing pulse at her wrist.

Then, a piercing sound shattered the tension.

A heavy metal rock song blasted from the Hermes handbag sitting on the vanity. It was the custom ringtone Corrine had set for Arron.

The noise acted like a bucket of ice water poured directly over Cassius's head.

His gaze snapped to the handbag. He knew that tasteless music. It belonged to his adopted son.

Cassius turned his head back to Corrine. The dark heat in his eyes vanished. It was replaced by absolute, freezing rationality. He looked at her like she was a piece of trash rotting on the sidewalk.

He threw her wrist away from him. The motion was violent, filled with blatant revulsion.

Corrine lost her balance. Her bare feet slipped on the wet marble. She stumbled backward, her spine hitting the hard edge of the vanity.

Cassius took two steps back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pure white silk handkerchief. He slowly wiped the fingers that had just touched her skin.

"You are a cheap, second-hand accessory," he stated. His Wall Street negotiation voice was flat and merciless. "Do not ever touch me again."

The humiliation sliced through Corrine's chest. Her fake seductive smile died on her face. Her hands gripped the marble counter behind her so hard her knuckles turned white.

Cassius dropped the handkerchief into the trash can. He turned his back on her and walked out of the bathroom.

Cassius's long legs crossed the bathroom threshold. His leather shoes hit the thick Persian rug in the living room, the muffled thuds signaling the end of the pathetic game.

Corrine stared at his broad back. The bitter taste of failure flooded her mouth. She grabbed a white hotel towel from the rack and wrapped it tightly around her wet body.

She ran barefoot out of the bathroom. Her wet soles left dark stains on the expensive rug. She had to stop him before he put his coat on.

Cassius had already crossed the living room, heading straight for the leather sofa where his belongings lay. The glittering Manhattan skyline stretched out beyond the windows, completely ignored. He didn't even turn around when he heard her rushing footsteps. He simply picked up his black cashmere overcoat, his movements sharp and impatient.

Corrine stopped right behind him. She reached out to grab his sleeve.

"Don't."

His voice was colder than the marble floor beneath them. He could sense her desperate proximity without even needing to look, treating her presence like an unwanted draft of air.

Corrine clenched her jaw. She deliberately let the edge of the towel slip an inch, exposing more of her pale shoulder.

"He left me there," she said, her voice cracking. "He humiliated me in front of everyone. I just want..."

Cassius finally turned around. His deep blue eyes held zero temperature. He looked her up and down, assessing her like a toxic asset on a balance sheet.

"The Mayer family does not tolerate scandals," he said flatly. "Your amateur extortion tactics will not work here."

The harsh words drained the blood from Corrine's face. She took a step forward, trying to use her physical proximity to break his defense.

Cassius instantly stepped back. He established a strict, impenetrable social distance. His eyes screamed defense and contempt.

He pulled his phone from his inner jacket pocket. His thumb swiped across the screen. He was going to call security to drag her out.

Corrine lunged at him. She slammed both of her hands over his hand, pinning the phone against his chest.

The moment her skin touched his, the tendons in the back of Cassius's hand snapped taut. He looked down at her small, white-knuckled hands gripping him.

Corrine tilted her head up. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked at him with a mix of begging and defiance. She was betting he wouldn't actually call security and make a public mess.

Cassius stared at her face for two full seconds. He seemed to be calculating the cost. Then, he let out a short, mocking laugh. He twisted his wrist and easily ripped his hand out of her grip.

He slid the phone back into his pocket.

"I have zero interest in playing with my son's used property," he said.

The words stabbed directly into Corrine's lungs. Her body trembled from the sheer degradation. But she forced her spine straight. She refused to crumble completely in front of him.

Cassius turned and walked to the entryway. He slid his arms into his black cashmere overcoat. His movements were elegant, radiating untouchable authority.

Corrine followed him. She couldn't let it end like this.

"Are you just afraid?" she taunted, her voice shaking. "Afraid to admit you actually want this?"

Cassius paused as he adjusted the collar of the coat. He turned his head slightly. He looked at her like she was an insect on his shoe.

He picked up his car keys and a heavy antique gold pocket watch from the valet tray. He dropped them into his coat pocket.

Corrine realized he was really leaving. She sprinted to the entryway and threw her arms out, pressing her back against the heavy walnut door.

Cassius stopped. His massive frame cast a dark shadow under the dim entryway lights, swallowing her completely.

"Move," he commanded. His patience was entirely gone.

Corrine pressed harder against the wood. Her chest heaved. The towel threatened to fall, but she didn't budge an inch.

Cassius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, there was nothing left but absolute cruelty. He reached out and clamped his hand over her bare shoulder.

He ripped her away from the door. He used so much force that Corrine lost her footing entirely. She crashed hard onto the carpet.

Cassius grabbed the brass doorknob. He didn't look down at her. He pulled the door open, stepped into the hallway, and left.

Corrine lay on the carpet. The sound of his steady footsteps echoed in the hallway, moving further away. If he left tonight, she would become the biggest joke in New York.

She bit her lip, ignoring the sharp pain in her bruised knees. She scrambled up from the floor, clutching the slipping towel.

She ran out of the suite. Her bare feet hit the thick wool runner in the hallway. She sprinted toward his retreating back.

Cassius had reached the private elevator. He raised his hand to press the down button. He heard the frantic footsteps and turned around, his brow deeply furrowed.

When Corrine was two steps away from him, she deliberately let her ankle twist. She let out a sharp gasp and threw her entire body weight forward, falling directly toward him.

Cassius's reflexes bypassed his brain. He stepped forward and shot his arms out, catching her falling body solidly against his chest.

Using the momentum of her fall, Corrine's hands desperately grabbed the lapels of his cashmere coat. She buried her face into his chest, inhaling the sharp scent of cedarwood.

As her fingers dug into the fabric, they hooked onto a thick metal chain hanging from his pocket.

With a desperate, twisting tug, a sharp metallic snap echoed in the hallway. The weakest link-a slightly worn connector ring halfway down the solid gold chain attached to his antique pocket watch-had completely given way under the sudden, violent torque.

Cassius's face turned instantly murderous. That watch was the symbol of the Mayer family's power. The muscles in his arms turned to steel.

He grabbed her wrists, trying to tear her off his body. His grip was so brutal it promised dark bruises by morning.

Corrine squeezed her eyes shut. She let her body go completely limp. She slumped against him like a dead weight, pretending to have passed out from the alcohol.

Cassius shook her roughly.

"Get up," he hissed.

The woman in his arms didn't move. Only her warm breath brushed against his neck.

At the far end of the hallway, the service elevator gears ground together. Someone was coming up. Cassius's eyes darted toward the sound.

He could not be seen wrestling with his adopted son's half-naked girlfriend in a hotel corridor. He cursed under his breath. He bent his knees and scooped Corrine up into his arms.

He carried her back toward the suite. His heavy footsteps pounded against the carpet, betraying his suppressed rage.

Cassius kicked the suite door open. He carried her through the entryway, past the living room, and straight into the master bedroom. He threw her onto the massive King-size bed.

Corrine bounced slightly on the mattress. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her eyes shut. She played dead.

Cassius stood over the bed. He stared down at her for several seconds. His breathing was heavy from anger.

He reached out and violently yanked the thick down comforter over her, burying her completely to hide the exposed skin.

Satisfied she wasn't going to jump up again, he turned to leave. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the broken half of the gold chain. His jaw clenched tight.

He walked out of the bedroom, crossed the living room, and slammed the front door shut. The heavy bang shook the walls.

The moment the door closed, Corrine's rigid muscles collapsed. She opened her eyes, gasping for air.

She slowly opened her right fist.

The other half of the broken gold chain lay in her palm. The jagged metal edges had pressed a red indent into her skin.

She stared at the gold links. A cold, desperate smile stretched across her face. This was her leverage.

Before she could get up, a chaotic noise erupted outside the suite.

Footsteps. Then, a man's angry voice.

"Corrine! Open the door!"

It was Arron. Her ex-boyfriend.

A woman's voice followed, high-pitched and fake. "Arron, please calm down..." It was Elma Horn.

Arron began pounding his fists against the heavy wood. "Corrine! I know you're in there!"

Corrine's fingers closed tightly around the gold chain. The panic in her eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling, absolute ice. The real storm was just beginning.