Page 40 of Emperor of Lust

“Nothing. You look very serious, Madam Ambassador.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re here to conductbusiness, Damian,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Notthatkind of business.”

I walk past her, tapping my chin before I spot the violet cocktail dress I was looking for—one of my additions to her wardrobe. I pull it from the rack and turn to lift it up in front of her.

“This one.”

Hana arches a brow. For a glimmer of a second, I canseeshe likes it. I know for a fact she doesn’t always dress for boardrooms and earnings reports. I’ve seen her dressed to kill before. But her stubbornness and need to oppose me rears up. And, yep, there it is: the rolling eyeballs defense mechanism.

“I’m not wearing that. It’s inappropriate.”

I smirk as I glance at the bare back, the plunging neckline that delves like a spear between the breasts halfway to the navel. The severely angled hemline from ankle to almost hip, with the huge slit that reveals most of a thigh.

“I disagree.”

“You would,” she throws back. “I’m not here to indulge the male gaze.”

“No indeed,” I counter, my voice firm. “You’re here to steal the fucking air out of the room. And you’ll do it in this.”

She glances at the dress, raising an unamused eyebrow. “No. That’s not something I’d ever wear,” she says, crossing her arms defiantly. “I’m just not.”

I close the distance between us in a heartbeat. Hana’s throat bobs as I cage her against the shelves of the dressing room. When I reach for her blouse, her breath catches as I grip it firmly near her sternum and yank it out of her skirt.

“Yes,” I growl, leaning in close. “You are.”

She scoffs, struggling to get away, her voice a low, indignant hiss. “Let me go, you barbarian,” she snaps. Her defiance only fuelsme, a fire that burns even hotter with every attempt she makes to break free.

Without a word, I grab her wrists and shove them over her head. Hana’s eyes go wide as I grab a random blouse from the rack next to her and bind her wrists together firmly without any ceremony.

“Damian!”

Her face blooms pink as I wrap the other sleeve of the blouse around one of the shelving posts, yanking her arms up tight before securing the whole thing with a thick knot.

“What thefuck?—”

“Stay still.”

She gasps sharply when I grab her skirt and pull it down, letting it fall to the floor.

“Damian!”

I ignore her protests as I yank the buttons open on her blouse and shove it and the jacket off her shoulders. They’re not going anywhere with her arms pinned and tied above her head.

…But luckily, I always carry my knife.

Hana stares at me like I’ve got three heads as I flick open the switchblade and deftly bring it to the fabric of her blouse.

“What the fucking hell are you—DAMIAN!”

She swears and bucks and twists as I slice her blouse away. The all-business jacket goes, too, until she’s standing there barefoot and bound in just a black bra and panties.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work with this dress,” I shrug, bringing the knife up and slipping it under the front of her bra. Hana’s eyes bulge when I slice that away too, leaving her almost naked and powerless in front of me.

Her breath hitches and she freezes, her eyes locked on mine, a flicker of darkness flashing in her gaze.

For a moment there’s silence, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, her nipples tight and erect, her skin textured with goosebumps, her stomach caving with each breath. Her expression is a mixture of anger and…excitement. I smirk, catching the hint of vulnerability in her gaze as I reach for the gown and pull it off the hanger.

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