Chapter 82

Kenya.

10 pm.

I waited in the "Cave"—the private, soundproofed studio in the Ruthford mansion. My pulse was racing, a mix of adrenaline and raw anticipation. Since returning to Manhattan a week ago, I had been preparing for this night.

Since hearing whispers of Levi’s past and the women who had once occupied his world, a strange, competitive fire had ignited in me. I wanted to show him that I wasn't just his wife by contract, but the woman who could hold his entire focus. My body was sore from hours of practice, yet I felt more alive than ever.

I still felt the sting of vulnerability from my confession to him nights ago. Admitting I was falling for him felt like handing him a weapon, but it was the truth. He had been remarkably supportive lately, standing by me as I worked to reopen J'aime. He even provided an assistant, Sara, to help manage the back-breaking work of recruitment and vendor coordination.

I heard the door to the studio open. My heart picked up speed, the sound of his familiar footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

In a few seconds, Levi stood a distance away. He looked fascinated, his head tilted in surprise as he took in the sight of me. I was wearing a crimson lace ensemble that felt like a second skin, designed to highlight every line and curve of a dancer's physique. My hair was pulled back into a tight, elegant bun, exposing the vulnerable line of my neck.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and rich.

He had discarded his jacket and tie; his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. He looked roguish, a stark contrast to the polished Senatorial candidate the world saw.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I gripped the chrome pole in the center of the stage. "I want to dance for you," I breathed.

“Kenya, you don't have to prove anything to me," he said, exhaling a shaky breath as he closed the distance. "I value you for exactly who you are."

"Let me do this, Levi. Let me show you what you mean to me."

He assessed me silently, his lazy, dark gaze finally giving way to a slow nod. He walked over to the sound system and started the music—a slow, rhythmic melody that pulsed through the room. He dragged a chair to the edge of the stage, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin hum.

I began. It was slow and steady at first. I used the pole as my axis, leaping and twirling with the fluid grace I had spent years perfecting. I snaked around the support, stretching my limbs, feeling his gaze like a physical touch.

He rose from his seat, moving toward the stage. His breath fanned across my skin, smelling faintly of expensive brandy.

“Kenya...” he breathed, leaning in until his lips were inches from my neck.

He pulled away for a moment and reached into a velvet-lined drawer near the stage. When he returned, he held a length of soft, black silk ribbon. I stilled, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his tone darkening. There was a hunger in his eyes I hadn't seen before—a raw, frightening power. "To see the side of me that I keep hidden from the world?"

He stepped onto the stage, the music still throbbing in the background. With a gentle but firm motion, he guided my hands toward the bar above my head, loosely looping the silk ribbon around my wrists. It wasn't a restraint, but a tether—a symbol of the control I was choosing to give him.

"You're different from any woman I've ever known," he whispered, pressing closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I didn't respect the past. They were distractions. But you... you are my equal. And tonight, I want to see every side of you."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of my bodice with a lingering touch. The tension in the room was palpable, a volatile mix of fear and desire. He ground his steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"Levi... you're making my heart stop," I whispered, my voice caught between a gasp and a plea.

I was petrified, yet ignited. The danger of the moment, the sheer intensity of his focus on me, sent a wave of heat through my soul.

"Are you scared?" he asked, his voice thick with a want that seemed to consume him.

I nodded slowly, unable to look away from his emerald-green eyes.

“Good,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Because I am terrified of how much I need you.”