The Day I Crossed The Line Pt 04

Continued from Chapter 3...

After that wild, reckless night with Harris and Daniel, life settled into a steady rhythm.

And my cam shows? Now done in the privacy of my new house. The money flowed and the viewers were loyal, and I finally felt like I had control.

But let's be real, nothing stays smooth forever. Trouble was coming. And this time, I wasn't going to run from it.

Yeah, if you're wondering who, the answer is simple, Ethan.

Two weeks. That's how long I had before he returned.

He was My only mistake. The man who once held me in a chokehold of control, his words sharper than any blade and I hated that.

I hated that even now; my body betrayed me reacting to the mere thought of him. I hated that after everything, a part of me still craved the fire in his eyes, the way he owned me like a possession.

But this time, it would be different and this time, I had power. Money. Options.

This time, I would be the one calling the shots.

He didn't know it yet, but Ethan was about to lose the one thing he thought he controlled.

Me.

Meanwhile at Ethan's place...

Ice clinked against glass as Ethan swirled his drink lazily, his mind only half-listening to his boss's chatter.

Across from him, Lana was a vision of temptation.

The executive pool terrace was high above the city skyline, private and exclusive.

But Ethan wasn't admiring the view. Lana was the only thing that mattered and her smooth, sun-kissed skin practically glowing, barely covered by that black bikini. The cool breeze teased at her nipples, making them stand against the thin fabric, and she didn't bother to hide it.

She wanted to be seen and they were both watching.

His boss took a slow sip of his drink, eyes still locked on Lana as she shifted, crossing one perfect leg over the other. Then, with a smirk, he turned to Ethan.

"So... what do you think of your decision?"

Ethan leaned back, stretching his legs out. He didn't even have to think about it.

"I have no problem with divorce. Helen's nothing. Good for nothing. I can fool her easily."

His boss laughed loud, sharp, cruel. "Hah! Really? Then I wanna meet her once, let's see how I can fool her."

Ethan smirked, raising his glass. "You'd be surprised how easy it is."

They both chuckled like men who had already won. His boss tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up.

"Well, I'll leave you to it and her."

His gaze flicked to Lana, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of his lips before he walked off.

Ethan barely had a second to process it before Lana moved.

She slid onto his lap in one smooth motion, her bare skin pressing against his, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him like silk.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, slow, deliberate, nails scraping just enough to make his breath hitch.

"So," she whispered against his ear, "what did you think about us?"

Ethan smirked, gripping her waist. "I will, baby. I will"

The second the words left his mouth, Lana's expression changed.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a sharp, mocking smile.

"Don't 'will' me, Ethan."

The warning in her voice made something cold crawl down his spine.

"What?" he asked, his smirk faltering.

She leaned in, brushing her lips along his jaw, teasing, before whispering, "You know exactly what I mean. You don't get to hesitate."

Her nails pressed into his skin, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in control here.

"You either divorce Helen the second we land," she murmured, "or you lose your promotion and me."

Ethan went still.

"Lana... "

She pulled back, arching a perfect brow. "What's wrong? You said she's nothing, right?"

Ethan swallowed, forcing his voice to stay even. "I'll do it. Just... come with me. Straight from the business trip to my house."

Lana's smile returned, slow and wicked.

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his ear once more.

"Good boy."

Then she kissed him deep, slow, tasting like whiskey and control.

And Ethan let her.

Back to Helen...

I leaned back in the plush chair, crossing my legs slowly and deliberately.

The man sitting across from me wasn't just any lawyer. He was Silas Hawthorne, the kind of man people whispered about in dark corners.

He is not just a divorce lawyer or privacy expert. He is a fucking fixer. The type who didn't ask why, just how fast you wanted it done.

Silas steepled his fingers, his sharp blue eyes locked onto mine.

He didn't look surprised to see me here, not like the last three lawyers who practically tripped over their own tongues when they realized who I was now.

No, this man was calm. Too calm.

"You don't just want a divorce," he said smoothly, his voice like silk over steel. "You want full extraction. Total blackout."

I smirked. "I want him wiped. No access to me. No leaks. No claim to my money, my business, my personal affairs. I want my new life locked down tighter than a goddamn vault."

Silas nodded, tapping a slow rhythm against his desk. "And Ethan? Does he know what's coming?"

I let the silence stretch, savouring the moment. Then, with the slowest, most satisfied smirk, I said

"Not yet."

Silas exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Well, madam... he's in for one hell of a surprise."

I leaned forward, just enough to let my fingers trail against the polished wood of his desk. "Make it happen. I don't care what it costs. Just have it done before he gets back."

Silas studied me for a long moment, then set his pen down with a click.

"Done." Just like that.

Power was delicious.

I stood, smoothing my dress, feeling the way the silky fabric clung to my curves. As I reached for my purse, Silas spoke again, his voice laced with something almost amused.

"Helen." I glanced at him. "When you walk out of here, you're officially the one in control."

I paused because it was true.

Ethan had spent years making me feel trapped, like I was his property.

But now? I was untouchable. I turned on my heel and walked out of that office, knowing exactly what I had just done.

And when Ethan came back? He would find out the hard way.

Later That Night at Ethan's House...

I exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face as I placed an extra plate on the dining table. Why? I had no idea. Habit, maybe or a ghost of an old routine I hadn't shaken yet.

Then the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock which was 8 PM sharp. My brows furrowed. I wasn't expecting anyone.

Wiping my hands on a towel, I walked to the door, pausing just long enough to check the peephole.

And there he was.

The supermarket guy.

Tall, clean-cut, dressed in a dark button-up like he could just as easily be a businessman as a guy stocking shelves. But I knew better. This wasn't some random drop-in.

That Underground shit.

That's what he'd called it when he gave me that black card last time.

I wasn't afraid. I had alibis. Connections. Money. No one could touch me now, not even Ethan.

So, I pulled open the door.

His expression was unreadable. No lusty grin, no sleazy look, just... business. Like this was a meeting, and I was the VIP he was here to see.

"Hi, Helen," he said smoothly, his voice low, deliberate. "May we talk? I'll only take ten, maybe fifteen minutes of your time."

I leaned against the doorframe, studying him. He met my gaze without hesitation and curious, unreadable.

For a second, I thought about shutting the door in his face. But something in the air, something electric, held me still.

I tilted my head, lips curving slightly. "Alright. Hop in. But no more than fifteen minutes."

A smirk ghosted over his lips as he stepped inside. "Fair enough."

I closed the door, locking it with a soft click.

We sat on opposite ends of the sofa, facing slightly away from each other. It wasn't casual, it was calculated.

He wasn't just here to talk. He was here to test me and I wasn't about to let him win.

His voice low and controlled but now there was a twisted kind of hunger laced in his tone.

"So, Miss Goddess... or should I say, Miss Helen?"

I glanced at him, unimpressed. "That depends. Are we talking business or bullshit?"

His lips curled into something almost amused. "Straight to the point. Good. Then let's talk about the underground."

I leaned back, feigning boredom. "What's in it for me?"

He chuckled - a slow, indulgent sound.

"Everything you need to know is on that card, Helen. No gimmicks, no traps. Just raw, unfiltered pleasure. You play a role, but not some cheap act. This is real, a living, breathing fantasy played out like a cinematic masterpiece.

And yes, it might hurt a little.

But if you can handle it... well, the rewards are beyond anything you've ever imagined.

Money. Influence. A live audience worshiping you. And popularity?" He leaned in slightly. "You already have it. But this... this would make you fucking untouchable."

I studied him, my fingers tapping lightly on my knee.

"So, what's the catch?"

His smirk sharpened. "No catch. Just a deadline."

I narrowed my eyes. "Meaning?"

He exhaled, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa, completely at ease. "The show is tomorrow. We need a singular lead. If it's not you, we'll find someone else. And if she succeeds, then you?" He shrugged lazily. "You'll be out of our league. Even if you come crawling back, we won't have a place for you unless she quits first."

That pissed me off.

I didn't crawl or beg. I looked away, my mind racing, calculating risks, weighing options. I knew what this was. A game of power. And I wasn't about to let someone else take what could be mine.

The silence stretched, thick and electric. Then, suddenly, he moved.

Before I could react, he was inches away, standing over me as I rose to my feet, his presence dominating the space between us. His fingers traced along the edge of my blouse before sliding inside, grazing the curve of my breast without hesitation.

A deliberate act of control or kind of a test and I was refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

"You," he murmured, squeezing just enough to make me bite my lip, "will be the perfect specimen. Our new queen and we both know what your answer is."

His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered, "Just don't be late. A car will pick you up tomorrow afternoon."

And just like that, he pulled back, smoothing his shirt as if nothing had happened.

But before he walked out, he turned slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

And winked. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving behind only the scent of expensive cologne and the ghost of his touch.

I barely slept that night.

Thoughts of the underground swirled through my mind, blending with the lingering heat of his touch, the weight of his words. Queen, that's what he had called me.

By the time morning light filtered through the curtains, I had already made my decision.

I wasn't going to just play the part. I was going to own it.

I slipped into the bathroom, turning the shower to steaming hot, letting the water cascade down my body. I took my time, exfoliating every inch of skin until it felt like silk, massaging oils into my legs, arms, and collarbones until they gleamed.

When I stepped out, my skin shimmered glossy, glowing, otherworldly.

I sat at my vanity, brushing through my hair slowly, watching my reflection. I didn't just look beautiful. I looked dangerous.

My lips curled as I reached for my deep violet-red lipstick - bold, sultry, a shade that promised sin. I painted it on slowly, deliberately, making sure every curve of my lips was flawless.

Then, the nails - glossy, blood-red perfection. Sharp. Deadly.

I picked a dress that wasn't just revealing - it was a statement.

A sleek, black satin gown, cut dangerously low at the front, hugging my curves like it was made for sin. A slit ran high up my thigh, flashing just enough skin to be unforgettable.

The fabric draped off one shoulder, leaving the other bare, exposed, vulnerable yet powerful.

I ran my hands down the smooth fabric, inhaling deeply.

It's almost 12:30

I had just slipped on my diamond-encrusted heels when I heard the deep, purring hum of an engine outside my gate.

I walked to the window.

A black sedan.

It sat there, sleek and polished like a predator waiting for its prey.

Right on time.

Before I could step outside, Harris appeared in the hallway, glancing at the car with a raised brow.

"Who's that?" he asked, slipping on his coat, clearly in a hurry.

I smirked, brushing past him. "Just a business meeting."

He barely had time to process that before checking his watch and sighing. "Fine. I gotta run. Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

Then, a quick kiss on my cheek, and he was gone.

I exhaled, adjusting my dress before stepping outside.

The moment my heels clicked against the pavement; the back door of the sedan swung open.

A man in a black suit, sharp jawline, unreadable eyes stood waiting. His stance was calculated, disciplined. The kind of man who had been trained to handle things quietly.

"Miss Helen," he said smoothly, giving me the faintest nod of respect.

I slid into the car without a word.

Two more men sat across from me, both in tailored suits, broad-shouldered, and radiating control.

The one who had opened the door settled in front of me, adjusting his cuffs, while the man beside me leaned in slightly.

"Welcome, Queen."

His voice was smooth, but there was something behind it with something teasing.

"Today, you take on a new identity. From now on, you're not Helen. You are our Queen. And we..." he gestured to the man in the front seat, "are your bodyguards."

I tilted my head, studying them. "So, what? You take orders from me now?"

The man beside me smirked. "Not quite. But serve the underworld well..." He let his fingers graze my wrist, deliberate, possessive. "And we'll be under your knees."

I smirked, but before I could say anything, the man in front of me reached into his pocket.

A black silk blindfold.

"For now, though," he murmured, leaning forward, "since it's your first time and the audience isn't familiar with you yet, we need a precaution. No blindfolds from next time, if you pass."

He didn't ask. He simply slid the fabric over my eyes, tying it tightly.

"Don't be nervous."

The car purred to life beneath me, the smooth hum of the engine vibrating through my body.

And as we pulled away, I knew there was no turning back.

After an hour the car slowed to a stop.

I heard the faint hum of voices outside, distant but growing closer. My pulse quickened not from fear, but from anticipation.

The door clicked open, and a rush of cool air kissed my skin.

"Give me your hand, my Queen." The voice was smooth, confident. Controlled.

I lifted my left hand, feeling the warmth of his as he took it, firm, yet careful, like he knew exactly what he was guiding me into.

A few silent steps forward, the ground beneath me changing from pavement to something colder, smoother. A threshold.

The door behind us closed with a soft but final click.

Then fingers at the nape of my neck.

The silk blindfold slipped away, and for a moment, my vision blurred.

When it cleared, I found myself standing in an empty compound. Dim lights. Concrete walls. A single, polished table with two chairs.

And in front of me?

The shopkeeper guy, or whatever he truly was, stood there waiting.

Two bodyguards flanked the walls.

The shopkeeper guy gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Sit."

I did.

He folded his hands, studying me with the kind of gaze that made me feel seen but not in the way other men looked at me.

"Call me Noir, my Queen."

I didn't react, just leaned back slightly, letting the title settle over me.

He exhaled, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "Let's get to it, then."

His voice dropped lower, threading into something deeper.

"The role is simple. You are not just a woman, you are an experience. A fantasy. You will be dominated, but you will not be a victim. You will act as a slave, but you will not be broken. The audience... they must feel it. The illusion of power. The reality of desire."

I didn't blink. He tilted his head slightly, watching me for a reaction. When he got none, he continued.

"This is your last chance to say no."

His voice was steady, unwavering.

"If you walk away now, we won't chase you. But if you step forward and if you enter that doorthen you are ours until the entire show is over. After that? You leave untouched, and life continues as normal. But during? You will be the Queen they kneel for, the desire they crave, the power they will never truly own."

Silence.

I let his words sink in, let them curl around my mind like smoke.

I slowly nodded.

Noir's lips curved. Not a smile. Approval.

Metal clanked.

Ahead of us, a door on the floor rumbled open, the sound of gears shifting like an old lever mechanism unlocking something beyond.

And then - noise.

Not a single voice. Not a dozen.

Hundreds or maybe thousands.

It came in waves, rolling through the underground like a pulse, a rhythm that wasn't just sound but a craving.

Queen. Queen. Queen. Queen. Queen.

They chanted.

The heat of bodies unseen pressing against the walls of whatever was beyond that door.

I didn't have time to process it because we moved.

Noir took the first step forward, and I followed, my bodyguards at my sides. The moment we crossed the threshold, the door behind us sealed shut.

Then, light.

Bright, concentrated, pouring down from a single spotlight onto me.

The underground was massive like an amphitheatre, layered in shadows and golden flickers, lined with figures.

Men.

All masked. All naked.

And all of them, without question, already hard.

The sheer rawness of it hit me like heat against skin and yet, I felt no fear because as they roared my name, as they worshiped me.

Then, Noir stepped closer.

He moved with the kind of unshaken confidence that only a man with absolute control could have. A quiet smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled a small vial from his coat pocket.

The liquid inside was dark crimson, almost shimmering beneath the golden glow of the stage lights.

"A little gift, my Queen," Noir murmured, tilting the vial between his fingers.

His voice was smooth, like too smooth.

I met his gaze, raising a brow, my breath still steady despite the slow burn of curiosity.

"What is it?"

His smirk widened; his eyes gleaming like a man who held a secret too delicious to keep.

"Something to make you feel... uninhibited."

He uncorked the vial with a flick of his wrist. The scent of something rich drifted between us, sweet, like honey, but laced with something more primal.

"A love potion?" I teased, my lips curving as I tilted my chin.

"Call it what you like." His fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my head ever so slightly. "You'll understand soon enough."

The vial pressed against my lips, the cool glass sending a shiver down my spine.

I drank.

The moment the liquid hit my tongue, it was like fire and silk all at once spreading, unfurling, curling into every inch of me.

It started as a warmth, coiling in my stomach, a slow, teasing flicker of heat.

Then, it deepened, spread and became something alive.

I gasped softly, my lashes fluttering, my knees weakening just enough to make me aware of my own body in a way I never had been before.

Every inch of my skin tingled, hypersensitive, my breath too shallow, too aware.

My heartbeat? Slower. Deeper. Louder.

And beneath the intoxicating haze, a single realization curled through my mind:

I had never felt this before.