Chapter 6 Possession is not love

Jaden tapped his pen against the desk for the hundredth time that hour, his leg bouncing under the mahogany surface. His office-usually a place of power, dominance, and control-now felt like a cage. Two days. Two full days. And not a single word from Felicia No returned calls. No read receipts. Not even a damn emoji. The last message he sent-"Come home. Let's talk."-still sat there, ignored, like a wound that refused to clot. He clenched his jaw. She couldn't just leave. Not like that. Not without hearing him out.

Did she forget who he was? What they shared? The door swung open with a practiced ease. Emily Whitmore. She didn't knock. She never did. She glided into his office like she owned it-her heels sharp against the marble, her red lips already curled in a knowing smirk. "You're still thinking about her," she said, arms crossed under her chest. "Pathetic." Jaden's gaze flicked up. He didn't respond. Emily sauntered over to his desk, her body language laced with entitlement. "I told you," she continued, leaning closer, her perfume-sickly sweet-clinging to the air. "Felicia can't survive without us. She's probably halfway through crying into a tub of ice cream, ready to crawl back into your lap." She let her hand trail across his chest-slow, deliberate. Jaden's muscles twitched beneath her touch, but he didn't stop her. Didn't move. Didn't push her away. Her fingers slid along his shirt buttons, unfastening one with ease. "We've always had more chemistry than you and her," she whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear. And then, just like before... he let it happen. Their mouths collided-desperate, messy, full of twisted hunger. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as she straddled him in his leather chair. Their rhythm was familiar, carnal, reckless. Suits pushed aside, buttons torn, breaths ragged. She moaned his name into his mouth as he lifted her hips, slamming her down onto him, no protection between them. He didn't care. He wasn't thinking. He was only feeling-anger, lust, guilt, shame-all tangled into the kind of sex that left bruises and regret. She clung to his shoulders, nails biting his skin as they moved together in a storm of possession. The sound of skin on skin filled the office, mixing with the faint hum of traffic outside the windows. Her heels hit the floor with a dull thud, and for a fleeting moment, Jaden imagined Sunanya walking in and seeing this chaos. Seeing him like this. With her. But the thought only made his grip tighter, the thrusts harder, until they both came undone in breathless gasps, slumping against each other in sweat and silence. It was only afterward, when Emily was buttoning her blouse again with that satisfied, smug grin, that the shame crashed in like a tidal wave. He stood, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell was that?" he barked, though his voice cracked. Emily laughed. "Oh, don't start." "You seduced me," he growled. "You knew I was-" "What?" she cut in, spinning on her heel. "Hurting? Mourning your little fiancée who finally opened her eyes?" "I didn't mean for that to happen again," he muttered, guilt choking him. Emily stepped closer, eyes glinting with something darker. "Let me make one thing clear, Jaden." Her voice was low, sharp as glass. "If I can't have you... no one will." He flinched. Something in her tone wasn't just jealousy. It was a promise.