Seducing my Ex-husband back (Claire) novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

THE OFFICE TRAP

-CLAIRE’S POV~

The silk robe feels cool against my skin as I stand in the kitchen, stainless steel pot in hand. My reflection catches in its surface, and I trace the dark mark on my neck with my fingertip.

Alexander’s brand from last night.

He came home from his investor meeting with hunger in his eyes and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

Claimed me against the hallway wall, then carried me to bed where he made me forget my own name.

The man’s appetite is unquenchable when he’s worked up about business.

Different from Richard. With Richard, it was passionate but controlled. With Alexander, it’s consuming.

The doorbell pulls me from my thoughts. I set down the pot and pad barefoot to the entrance, checking the monitor.

Kimberly stands there with her tablet hugged against her chest, looking as polished as always despite the early hour.

I didn’t call for her. Neither did Alexander, as far as I know.

“Good morning, Miss Winfred,” she says as I let her in, her voice cheerfully professional despite my obvious state of undress.

I lead her to the living room, settling into the cream leather chair. “Why are you here, Kimberly? Did something happen?”

She opens her mouth to speak just as Alexander walks in from the bedroom.

He’s wearing only cream sweatpants, his hair messed from sleep, broad chest bare and marked with faint scratches from my

nails.

I watch Kimberly’s face flush pink before she quickly looks down at her tablet.

Strange.

I have never felt anything when women stare at Alexander….and they do, constantly. He’s devastatingly handsome, wealthy, and charming. Of course, they look.

So why does seeing Kimberly’s harmless appreciation make something twist in my chest?

I clear my throat. “Kimberly?”

“Right.” She straightens, all business again. “Mr. Blackwood has agreed to meet with you about your proposal.”

My eyebrow arches. I didn’t expect Richard to respond so quickly. The proposal was meant to be a test, a way to gauge his desperation.

“He’s requesting a meeting in his office to discuss the details,” Kimberly continues.

Alexander moves behind my chair, his hand finding my shoulder as he takes the tablet from Kimberly. I feel his attention shift as he scrolls through the message.

“What do you plan to do?” he asks, his voice carefully uninterested.

I reach up and cover his hand with mine, smiling. “I’m going to meet with Richard and hear what he has to say.”

“Are you sure you can handle him?”

The question should irritate me. I find his concern surprisingly charming.

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“You don’t need to worry about me,” I tell him, turning to meet his eyes. “This is part of my revenge, remember? I’m going to help you drain Blackwood Industries into the ground.”

Alexander doesn’t look convinced, but he leans down and presses his lips to the sensitive spot where my neck meets my

shoulder.

“I trust you,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’m waiting to see what you have planned with this proposal.”

My smile turns wicked. “Sit back and watch the show.”

*

I chose the red bodycon dress intentionally. It’s one of my favorites…silk that hugs every curve, ending just above my knees.

Professional enough for a business meeting, seductive enough to remind Richard of what he lost.

The black Lamborghini purrs as I pull up to Blackwood Industries. I sit for a moment, staring up at the glass tower that used to intimidate me.

The last time I was here, I was pathetic. Desperate. Begging for scraps of attention from a man who couldn’t wait to be rid of me.

Now I’m the one holding all the cards.

The moment I step out of the car, whispers follow me across the lobby. I can feel eyes tracking my movement, hear the murmur of recognition.

‘Is that Claire Blackwood?‘

‘I thought she was Claire Winfred now.‘

‘She looks incredible.‘

‘Didn’t she use to be married to……‘

I let the speculation go as I walk to the elevator, my heels clicking on the marble floor.

Janet looks up from her desk as I approach Richard’s office, her face cycling through surprise, confusion, and something that might be fear.

I remember the pity in her eyes during my marriage. The way she would look at me when I would wait for Richard, sometimes for hours, squeezing coffee that had long gone cold.

Now I smile at her like we’re old friends.

“Hello, Janet. Please tell Mr Blackwood his ten o’clock is here.”

She fumbles for her phone, clearly flustered. “Of course, Miss… Winfred. He’s expecting you.”

The office door opens, and there he is.

Richard Blackwood looks impressive. He wears a well–fitted charcoal suit, and his dark hair is styled neatly. His sea–blue eyes,

which used to make me weak in the knees, now look at me with caution.

“Claire.” His voice is carefully controlled. “Please, come in.”

I walk past him into the office that used to be my second home. Nothing’s changed….same mahogany desk, same leather chairs, same view of Manhattan spreading out below us.

But everything feels different now.

I settle into the chair across from his desk, crossing my legs slowly. The dress rides up slightly, and I don’t bother to adjust it.

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Richard notices. How could he not?

He stands behind his desk like it’s a shield, but I can feel his eyes watching me. Taking in the dress, the confident way I hold myself, the bare legs I deliberately chose not to cover with stockings.

“You look well,” he says, settling into his chair.

“Thank you. You look tired.”

It’s true. There are shadows under his eyes, tension in the set of his shoulders.

The golden boy of Manhattan society looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

Good.

“Let’s discuss your proposal,” he says, pulling out a printed copy. “A children’s foundation focused on trauma and rebuilding.”

“That’s right. I want to help families who’ve experienced loss. Betrayal. Help them find their strength again.”

The words are loaded, and we both know it.

“It’s ambitious,” Richard continues. “The funding requirements alone…”

“Which is why I want you and Mrs Blackwood involved,” I interrupt. “Your names would lend credibility. Put you back in the spotlight in a positive way.”

I lean forward slightly, letting him catch the scent of my perfume. Something new….not the soft vanilla I used to wear, but something sharper.

More dangerous.

“Given your company’s… current reputation challenges… this could be exactly what you need.”

His jaw tightens at the quiet dig. “My company is doing fine.”

“Is it?” I tilt my head, letting confusion color my voice. “Because the headlines suggest otherwise. Stock prices, investor confidence, whispers about instability…”

“You seem remarkably well–informed about my business affairs.”

“I make it my business to stay informed about things that interest me.”

The silence between us is heavy with unspoken history. Richard drums his fingers on the desk, and I can almost see him

thinking.

He’s debating whether he can trust me. Whether this proposal is genuine or some elaborate trap.

Smart man. He should be suspicious.

“Why me?” he asks finally. “There are other well–known families who could support this foundation. Why come to your ex- husband?”

I stand slowly, smoothing down my dress. Richard’s eyes follow the movement, and I see his throat work as he swallows.

“Because,” I say, walking around his desk with planned steps, “I believe in second chances. In redemption.”

He swivels his chair to face me, but doesn’t back away as I approach. I can smell his cologne….the same one he’s worn for years. The one that used to comfort me.

Now it just reminds me of lies.

“I also believe,” I continue, stopping just close enough to be in his personal space, “that some people deserve to be reminded of

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their mistakes.”

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