Voss Dynamics Tower, Brickell. 9:42 a.m.
I walk into the lobby wearing a custom Tom Ford suit the color of fresh blood, no tie, top three buttons open. The security guards take one look at me and decide today is not the day to die.
The elevator ride to the 97th floor takes thirty-three seconds.
I spend every single one of them staring at the countdown in the corner of my vision.
[71:17:28 remaining]
Plenty of time.
The doors slide open directly into the executive boardroom. Twenty-three people in five-thousand-dollar suits freeze mid-sentence. At the head of the table sits Scarlett Voss.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She's even hotter when she's trying to murder me with her eyes.
Black hair in a razor-sharp bob, arctic-blue eyes, lips painted the same red as the bottom of her Louboutins. The white dress she's wearing hugs every lethal curve like it was sewn on this morning.
She stands slowly.
"Security," she says into the intercom, voice calm enough to freeze vodka.
I lift one finger. "Tell them to stand down, Scarlett. Unless you want the entire building watching what happens next on the live feed."
Her perfectly arched brow twitches. "You're delusional if you think—"
I activate the first use of Pheromone Burst.
It's not a smell. It's a pressure wave of pure sex that rolls off me like heat off asphalt in July. Every person in the room inhales at once. The men shift uncomfortably. The women (three board members and Scarlett's assistant) go glassy-eyed and flushed.
Scarlett's nostrils flare. She feels it hardest because she's fighting it.
I stroll around the table, slow, like I own the building. (I could buy it before lunch if I felt like it.)
"Everyone out," I say, not raising my voice.
Nobody moves for two full seconds. Then the assistant (cute little blonde) actually whimpers and bolts for the door first. The rest follow like someone pulled the fire alarm. The glass door hisses shut behind them, auto-locking.
We're alone.
Scarlett's knuckles are white on the edge of the table.
"Whatever trick you're pulling, Wentworth—"
I'm in front of her in three steps. Close enough that her perfume (something expensive and angry) mixes with the pheromone cloud still leaking off me.
"You said I'd never touch you," I murmur, voice low. "Change your mind yet?"
Her hand snaps up with a titanium letter opener aimed at my throat. Fast. Trained.
I catch her wrist mid-air, twist just enough to make her gasp, and pin both her arms behind her back with one hand. The letter opener clatters to the marble.
She tries to knee me in the balls. I step inside it, press her against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking all of Miami, and let her feel exactly how hard I am already.
"Feel that?" I breathe against her ear. "That's seventy-one hours of motivation."
Her breathing is ragged. The pheromone skill is only part of it. The rest is pure her (ice queen mask cracking, pupils blown wide).
"Logan," she says, and it's not a warning anymore. It's a plea she hasn't decided on yet.
I spin her around, shove her forward until her palms slap the glass. Downtown Miami spreads out ninety-seven floors below us like a toy city.
I drag the zipper of her dress down in one slow pull. White silk pools at her feet.
No bra. Black lace thong so tiny it's basically a suggestion.
[Target arousal: 87%]
[Bonus objective still active – boardroom detected]
Perfect.
I drop to my knees, rip the thong off with my teeth, and bury my tongue inside her before she can finish gasping my name.
She tastes like expensive champagne and surrender.
Ten minutes later she's coming on my face so hard her legs give out. I stand, spin her again, and lift her onto the polished mahogany table where she just closed a two-billion-dollar merger.
Papers scatter. A Montblanc pen rolls off the edge and explodes like a gunshot.
I free myself, line up, and drive into her in one brutal thrust.
Scarlett screams (half rage, half relief) and her nails rake down my back hard enough to draw blood.
The table rocks with every thrust. The glass wall shakes. Somewhere on the other side, twenty-three executives are probably watching the security feed with their jaws on the floor.
Let them watch.
I lean down, bite her earlobe, and growl, "Say it."
She shakes her head, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.
I angle my hips, hit that spot that makes her eyes roll back, and stop moving.
"Say it, Scarlett."
Her voice breaks. "Please… fuck me, Logan. Please."
[Main Quest Complete!]
[Bonus Objective Complete – Boardroom Conquest Achieved!]
[Reward: Charm +10 → Current Charm 20 (Lady-Killer tier)]
[$10,000,000 instantly deposited]
[Mystery Skill Unlocked: Golden Tongue Technique (Passive – Oral pleasure now causes instant addiction)]
[Pleasure Points +1500]
I give her exactly what she begged for.
Three more times.
When we're done, the table is ruined, her lipstick is smeared across my neck, and Scarlett Voss (ice queen of American tech) is curled against my chest, trembling.
The system pings one final time.
[New Daily Quest Unlocked]
Objective: Make the twin supermodels Madison & Mackenzie fight over who gets to swallow first tonight.
Reward: Infinite Stamina I (3 hours duration)
I grin, kiss the top of Scarlett's head, and whisper, "Welcome to the harem, Queen."
She slaps my chest weakly… then pulls me down for another kiss like she's trying to own my soul.
Phase one complete.
Now the real fun begins.