15/02/2026
🔥🍷🔞 Temptation 🔞🍷🔥
🖤 By Domas Library 🖤
Chapter 1 (Alexander)
Alexander.
—Mr. Roe is here— Ethan tells the Hilton & Roe security personnel.
I take off my sunglasses and walk in angrily. The last two eco-friendly hotels I opened haven't generated the profits I want. Two million pounds in their first three months of operation is a pittance compared to what I earn in a week from my regular hotels.
"Good morning, Mr. Roe," Amelia says, catching me in the doorway with my digital calendar. "You have four meetings today, and two of them are with the lawyers Mr. Blake hired."
—Cancel everything and order me a medium-rare steak at noon. Also, tell Alesha I don't have all day to wait for her plans; they were due yesterday. I don't want any excuses.
I spent the night before correcting the plans that my incompetent architects made, and the last thing I want right now is to take those damn meetings; I'm in a worse mood than yesterday.
"But Mr. Roe, we can't cancel all your meetings, at least not the first one with all your executives to discuss the hotels you'll be opening in Birmingham, nor the one with the clients coming from New York." She tries to keep up with me, her heels clicking behind me.
—I have plans to fix specifically for those hotels and I don't intend to waste my time in a mediocre meeting.
"The architects have been here for an hour waiting to help you with the mistakes they made."
"I don't want any inept, incompetent fool from a cheap university touching the blueprints of my hotels, only Alesha. She's the best I have, and I'll supervise her." I close my office door, concluding my order.
I open the plans on my desk; I rarely draw the plans myself, except for the Brent hotels where I took a risk, but I always make sure the work isn't rubbish.
I fix my Rolex and get to work. The amount of work I have this year has increased and nobody is better than me at doing it. I am one of the richest businessmen in Europe and London is my main headquarters.
Ethan and my private security are waiting outside my office. Two days ago we had sightings of green vans, as happens every so often.
—I'm here— Alesha enters, looking presentable as always, to clean up the mess. —I've been waiting for you with the architects all morning, but since you probably don't want incompetent people touching your plans, I came alone.
—You always know what I want.
—It's years of experience, darling— she dares to kiss me on the cheek, but I don't let her. I don't like those ridiculous kisses. I'm a difficult man to deal with, but Alesha has adapted to getting along with my character since we were children.
—Fix the mess those inept people made in the plans.
She gets serious and ready for work, just the way I like it. "Last night I was digitally analyzing them and I've already found two of the flaws," she says, pursing her red lips that have kissed me so many times in her apartment, and runs her fingers along my arm.
My frown makes her back away. "You're not in a good mood today either; you've been like this for days."
—I'm never in a good mood.
"Well, start moving your face at least to say thank you, or it's going to atrophy," she says, moving to my back and using her classic massage technique. "I can relax you however you like, darling. I'll prepare your Scotch and a nice steak with perfectly cooked vegetables, just the way you like it."
—Perfect.
—I'll take care of the plans and you'll come to my apartment at six.
"I need you in Birmingham. I want you to detail every aspect of the construction, just like Brent's. I don't want any mistakes, Alesha. Construction involves lives, and I never do a bad job."
—If I supervise it, you have no reason to doubt, but then I need the data that Erick will present at today's meeting.
Grumpy, as if I hadn't canceled my appearance, I go to show myself to the slaughterhouse of cowards who want to please me. As always, people arrive before the meeting time; they know I hate delays, and they're just bootlickers.
Bennett goes in first and then I go in, where the screens are already lit for the Birmingham charts.
Erick, the son of my best publicist, starts talking about percentages that categorize us as the best hotel chain, and nobody needs to remind me of that.
I'm above everyone else; I'm not just good, I'm excellent, and nobody's going to question that. That's why their conversations don't impress me at all.
—Get to the point, Erick, and don't bore me— I order, tired of hearing his nonsense.
I run my hand over my face in anger as he begins with the real information. They're all a bunch of useless idiots. I look up at the room and see the pair of brown eyes staring at me. In that moment, I feel the power that gaze demands.
She's the publicist, Christopher Jones's assistant, whom he has praised so much for hiring her last month. She's far too self-centered to think there aren't any good publicists at my company. I lower my gaze, expertly scanning her face down to the tight jacket she's wearing.
I look up again and at that moment I feel as if I am being tempted without even moving my eyes.
I narrow my eyes, trying to subdue her.
Her skills are useless to me; nobody is on the same level as me professionally, but she was clear in saying that she didn't tell him she was a good publicist, she told him she was the best publicist he could hire. The ego of beginners drives me crazy.
Even Alesha doesn't dare to go that far, and she's the best architect I have on my team.
I dominate her with my presence, but she doesn't look away. I raise an eyebrow as she runs her eyes over my face and even my clothes, and when she looks back at me I feel the intensity of her gaze, because it's the same as mine; she's putting herself on the same level as me.
I smile, surprising my secretary because I've been yelling since morning, but my smile is ironic and purely angry. Don't stoop to my level, publicist. I tilt my head, playing along with her, and give her that lopsided grin that makes me look like a total bastard.
She tilts her head, and I get my first glimpse of her stubbornness because she sees me from below. Christopher shows her the graphs, and she concentrates, but I see the pulse throbbing in her neck; she's not indifferent, but her stubbornness prevents her from yielding. Same as mine. That's the thought that keeps me staring at her throughout the meeting, aware that she avoids my gaze, but that her ego is still present.
A publicist with an inflated ego is a challenge that attracts me as I think about it, and as I look at her body again I begin to fantasize about what little the desk reveals. I'm going to spread her legs and see if her serious attitude doesn't vanish, screaming my name if I make her sin.
I bend her over and whip her several times as punishment for challenging me with her gaze. The perverse thoughts are better than the damned meeting, and even my bad mood dissipates.
The meeting ends, and the sight of her tempting body as she gets up makes my member hard as she walks toward the exit, showing me her pert ass, perfect for spanking. I feel the temptation growing as I watch her; she looks up again, glancing at me through the doorway.
She feels it too.
She is a sinner.
I can recognize the look of sin the moment I see it, the perversion, the temptation, and the sin that grows when the brown of her eyes darkens. My gaze travels down her body, appreciatively drawn to the breasts hidden by the black blazer, but she also takes in mine.
And as Christopher greets me, we both hold the gaze of sin.
I adjust the cheap gold cufflinks my brother gave me and wait for her to come in with her boss. "Jones," I lower my voice again, sounding angry, but she doesn't even deign to look at me when I speak.
I don't have time for a game with a stubborn publicist who thinks she's the best at her job. I have an eco-friendly hotel to open to the public and it will make me richer than I am now. That woman just annoyed me and I know I annoyed her just the same, which I don't even care about.
Welcome to the hotel industry, here you prove what you're made of, not how big your ego is.
