The Obsidian Sun was already mobilizing.
He had to brace for impact.
It didn't matter who this mystery VIP was, or how many kill squads were waiting in the shadows of the port.
If they dared to point a gun at his sister, not a single one of them would leave Whitecliffe Harbor alive.
Project Zero-Transit, Dining Sector.
The moment Serena stepped into the elegant foyer, an impeccably dressed attendant immediately bowed. "Ms. Panacea, The Sterling Sovereign has been anticipating your arrival. Right this way."
She followed him down a plush corridor, stepping into an exclusive, private dining suite reserved for the ship's absolute elite.
As the attendant pushed the heavy oak doors open, a lavish breakfast spread already graced the table.
Nicholas sat by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Hearing her enter, he slowly lifted his gaze.
His dark eyes swept past the attendant, landing heavily on Serena with a lazy, possessive heat.
Leaning back in his chair, he arched an eyebrow, a wicked, indulgent smirk playing on his lips. "Finally decided to grace me with your presence, Ms. Panacea?"
"Leaving me to starve while waiting for you... I must be the most pathetic patron in existence."
His tone was laced with mock grievance.
Serena's lips curved into a breathtaking smile.
She strode right past her empty chair, turning smoothly to sit directly sideways on his lap, her slender arms effortlessly looping around his neck.
The cold, untouchable aura she normally wore melted away, replaced by a radiant, deeply seductive charm.
"I couldn't help it. We're talking about a hundred-and-thirty-billion-dollar asset, after all."
Her fingertips lightly traced the edge of his collar, her voice practically purring. "The ship paid an astronomical fee for my medical expertise. And I am nothing if not a professional."
"When I take someone's money, I make sure to give them an unforgettable show."
Nicholas's arm snaked instinctively around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.
He tilted his head, his nose gently brushing against her cheek, his voice
thick with a dangerous, playful heat.
"So what you're saving is my
cold
little
Panacea values cold hard cash over me?"
าวเ
Serena let out a sultry laugh. She cupped his chin, her thumb lazily his jawline. "Of course not.
stroking
How could
compare to my darling patron
dere money ever
She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, smiling with absolute brazen confidence. "After all, you're the one who prints the money for me."
That kiss sent a surge of pure delight straight into Nicholas's dark eyes.
He let out a low, rough chuckle. "So I should be grateful that I still have some use to
you?"
Serena tangled her fingers into his soft hair, a lazy smile resting on her lips.
But before she could reply, Nicholas's hand slid to the back of her neck, dragging
her down into a bruising, breathless kiss.
Serena clung to his shoulders, the smirk still on her lips as she yielded to his dominance.
His large hand spread across the small of her back, holding her prisoner against his body in a suffocatingly tight embrace.
Her long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders, acting as a silken curtain that shielded their entangled silhouettes.
Standing rigidly by the door, the attendant kept his eyes glued firmly to the floor, not daring to breathe.
Nicholas's peripheral vision cut toward the man, his gaze suddenly turning into absolute ice.
It only took one look.
The attendant instantly understood. He bowed deeply, stepped backward out of the room, and quietly pulled the heavy oak doors shut behind him.
This was definitely not an environment for a spectator...
Only after the soft click of the lock did Serena brace her hands against his chest, breaking the kiss to put a sliver of distance between them.
But Nicholas wasn't nearly satisfied. He chased her lips, stealing two more deep, lingering kisses.
"Darling patron, I think that's quite enough," Serena murmured, trying to dodge him, only to be pulled right back into the fire.