The gala lights hadn't dimmed. The chandeliers still burned, violins played, and polished demons in suits and gowns clinked glasses like nothing had happened. Like the world hadn't just split open behind a locked door.
Elma walked back into the ballroom on Nitron's arm, her pulse still skipping from the limo. His hand rested heavy on her back, fingers firm against her waist, but his face—blank. Not a flicker of heat, not a crack in that CEO mask. To anyone watching, she was just another ornament, another luxury accessory on display.
She wanted to scream.
He had taken her like a monster starving, lost control in a way that would make boardrooms collapse if they'd seen it. And now? He was ice. He sipped his wine. He smiled at investors. He adjusted his cufflinks like her body hadn't been shaking under his just ten minutes ago.
Elma forced her lips into a smirk, glass of champagne between her fingers. If this was the game, she could play it. Pretend. Act like nothing happened. But inside, the thought sizzled: I made him crack. Even if he denies it, I know. I own a piece of him now.
Nitron guided her through the crowd with casual dominance. No eye contact. No acknowledgment. Just that hand at her back, the kind of silent claim that said "mine" while his mouth said "business."
She stole a glance at him. Strong jawline, cold eyes, no warmth left. If he was affected, it was buried deeper than she could dig right now.
Her system chimed softly in her head.
[Trait Locked: Tempt the Master]
You've glimpsed his weakness. Future rebellions hold double the risk, and double the reward.
Her stomach flipped. The system was never wrong. If she pushed this, she could tear him open again… but it would cost her. Maybe everything.
Hours blurred. Demon elites laughed, their words dripping with greed. The human guests tried too hard to look rich, desperate to belong. Elma floated in the middle, her body still sore from Nitron's grip. She smiled when spoken to, laughed when expected, but her thoughts clung to the limo. To the way his voice had broken when she pushed him over the edge.
When it was finally over, they slipped into another car. This time, no tinted windows, no heat—just silence. Nitron scrolled through his datapad, eyes skimming reports, as if she wasn't even there.
The detachment cut deeper than his hands ever had.
"Really?" she muttered, tilting her head. "We're just not gonna talk about it?"
He didn't look up. "About what?"
Elma laughed, bitter and low. "You know what."
Nitron's eyes flicked to her, finally, for one frozen second. Then back to his datapad. "Business, Elma. Always business."
Her nails dug crescents into her thigh. "You think ignoring it makes it disappear?"
"I think," he said, voice smooth, cold, absolute, "you're an employee. Nothing more."
The car went quiet again, but Elma's mind wouldn't stop buzzing.
Employee? He could lie to himself all he wanted, but she'd felt the truth in his hands, in his body. The way he'd broken against her. He could pretend all he wanted—she still knew.
And if she'd done it once… she could do it again.
When they reached the mansion, he dismissed her with a single glance, walking ahead like a shadow made of authority. No leash, no chains, no punishment tonight. Just absence. Cold silence.
Elma stood in the doorway, heat still pooling between her thighs, a twisted grin curling her lips.
"Pretend all you want, boss," she whispered under her breath. "I'll crack you open again. And this time… I won't stop."
The system hummed in her chest, like it was listening.
[Quest Unlocked: Break the Master Again]
Reward: ???
Elma smiled wider.
Game on.