Chapter 2 The Trap of Temptation

# Chapter 2: The Trap of Temptation

Sleep evaded me that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gideon's penetrating stare, felt the warmth of his breath against my ear. By morning, I'd formulated a new approach: if he knew I was watching him, I'd have to be smarter, more careful.

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows as I prepared breakfast alongside Eliza, the cook—a sturdy woman with calloused hands and a no-nonsense attitude.

"You'll be taking Mr. Gideon his breakfast today," she informed me, sliding a silver tray across the counter. "He takes it in his study at precisely 7:30."

"Does he always eat alone?" I arranged the French press and porcelain cup on the tray.

Eliza's expression softened slightly. "Since his father's passing, yes. The mistress rarely joins him—she's always at the corporate office or traveling." She lowered her voice. "Between us, those two haven't shared a meal in months."

Interesting. The file Margot had given me mentioned tensions with her son but not outright estrangement.

I navigated the mansion's corridors with the tray balanced carefully in my hands, rehearsing what I'd say. When I reached Gideon's study, I took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter."

He sat behind his desk, immaculate in a charcoal suit, typing rapidly on a laptop. Without looking up, he gestured to a small table by the window.

I set down the tray, studying him surreptitiously. In the morning light, I noticed details I'd missed before—the slight furrow between his brows, the tension in his shoulders. He wasn't just cold; he was burdened.

"Your breakfast, Mr. Blackwood."

"Thank you." He finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "After last night's... encounter, I'm surprised you're still here."

I met his gaze steadily. "I need this job, sir."

"Do you?" His lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Or do you need something else entirely?"

My heart raced, but I kept my composure. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Gideon rose from his desk and approached, stopping just before me. "Let's stop the charade, shall we? You're investigating me for my mother. The question is: what exactly is she hoping to find?"

I weighed my options. Denial seemed pointless. "Perhaps she's concerned about you."

He laughed, a sharp sound devoid of humor. "Concern implies affection, which has never been Margot's strong suit." He gestured for me to sit in one of the leather armchairs. "Tell me, Harper—what did she promise you? Money? Career advancement? Or did she simply blackmail you?"

I remained standing. "With all due respect, sir, I should return to my duties."

"Your duties." He stepped closer, close enough that I could see flecks of gray in his blue eyes. "Let me be perfectly clear: your only duty from this point forward is to report exactly what I tell you to report."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm offering you a better deal." His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "Work with me instead of against me. Whatever she's paying you, I'll double it."

The offer was tempting, but I sensed there was more at stake. "What's really going on between you two?"

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, that I'd cut to the heart of the matter so quickly.

"My mother," he said carefully, "is not the philanthropist she pretends to be. The Blackwood empire has secrets, Harper—dark ones. Secrets I've been working to uncover and correct."

I studied his face for signs of deception but found none. "Why tell me this?"

"Because you're clever enough to discover it eventually." He moved to the window, gazing out at the manicured gardens. "And because I need someone on the inside."

I couldn't help but be intrigued. "The inside of what?"

"Her inner circle." He turned back to me. "She trusts you, or at least trusts that she has leverage over you. That makes you valuable."

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Mrs. Peterson entered, her usual warm demeanor replaced with evident anxiety.

"Mr. Gideon, your mother has just arrived. She's requesting your presence in the main parlor immediately."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Inform her I'll be down shortly."

When Mrs. Peterson left, Gideon turned to me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Think about my offer. In the meantime, continue your surveillance. Just know that every move you make, I'll be one step ahead."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of dusting and polishing. As I worked, I observed the aftermath of Margot and Gideon's meeting—raised voices from the parlor, followed by the slamming of doors.

Later, while cleaning the library, I discovered a hidden panel behind a bookshelf. Inside was a safe—too sophisticated for me to crack without proper equipment. I made a mental note to return that night.

Evening came, and with it, a lavish dinner party. Margot had invited several prominent business associates. I served drinks, keeping my eyes and ears open.

"The Blackwood Foundation's latest medical breakthrough could revolutionize cancer treatment," Margot was saying to an older gentleman in an expensive suit. "The trials have been... promising."

I noticed Gideon's jaw tighten at her words. When their eyes met across the room, the tension between them was palpable.

As the party wound down, I slipped away to the library. The mansion was quiet, most of the staff having retired for the night. I carefully opened the hidden panel and began working on the safe.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I whirled around, heart pounding. Gideon stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"Mr. Blackwood—" I began.

"Gideon," he corrected, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "If we're going to be conspirators, you might as well use my name."

"I haven't agreed to anything."

"Yet here you are, breaking into my safe." He approached, setting his glass down on a nearby table. "Curious, isn't it?"

I stood my ground. "I'm doing what I was hired to do."

"Are you?" He circled me slowly. "Or are you satisfying your own curiosity about what's really happening in this house?"

He was right, and we both knew it. My investigation had become personal.

"That safe," he said, nodding toward the wall, "contains evidence of illegal clinical trials. My mother has been testing experimental drugs on unwitting patients in third-world countries."

The revelation stunned me. "That's—"

"Criminal?" He finished. "Yes. And it's just the tip of the iceberg."

Our eyes locked, and something electric passed between us—a shared understanding, perhaps, or something deeper.

"Why tell me this?" I asked softly.

"Because I need someone I can trust." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And despite everything, I find myself wanting to trust you, Harper."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. This wasn't the cold, calculating man I'd met days ago. There was vulnerability beneath his armor.

"How do you know I won't go straight to your mother with this information?"

His lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes for the first time. "I don't. That's the interesting part."

Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us, one hand cupping my face with unexpected gentleness. "What's your real name? Not the one my mother gave you for this job."

The question surprised me. "It's... still Harper. Harper Bennett."

"Well, Harper Bennett," he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip, "I think we could be quite the team—if you're willing to take a risk."

My pulse raced at his touch, my mind warning me to maintain professional distance even as my body betrayed me. This was dangerous territory.

"I need to think," I managed to say.

His eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Don't think too long. In this house, hesitation can be fatal."

He leaned in closer, his intent clear. Every instinct told me to step back, to remember my mission, but I remained frozen in place, caught in his magnetic pull.

"You can't escape what's happening between us," he whispered, his lips inches from mine. "And tonight, you will only listen to me."

His kiss, when it came, was not gentle. It was demanding, possessive, breaking through every barrier I'd constructed. His arms encircled me, pulling me against his solid chest as the kiss deepened. I responded with equal fervor, my hands sliding into his hair.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, I saw something new in his eyes—a hunger that mirrored my own.

"Remember," he said, his voice rough with desire, "in this game we're playing, I am the hunter, Harper. And I always catch my prey."

With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone in the library with swollen lips and a racing heart, wondering if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my career—or discovered something worth more than any mission.