Chapter 4 On the Edge of Desire

# Chapter 4: On the Edge of Desire

The days following our pact passed in a strange dual existence. By day, I played the dutiful maid, cleaning rooms and serving meals. By night, Gideon and I worked together in his secret sanctuary, compiling evidence against Margot.

We maintained a careful distance in front of the staff, though occasionally our eyes would meet across a room, sharing secrets no one else could see. These brief moments of connection sent thrills through me that I struggled to suppress.

On Friday evening, Margot returned from Tokyo and announced a lavish dinner party for Saturday night—a gathering of investors, politicians, and socialites. The entire staff was thrown into a frenzy of preparation.

"Harper, you'll be serving in the main dining room," Mrs. Peterson instructed as we polished silver. "Wear the formal uniform, and remember—"

"Be invisible unless needed," I finished for her with a small smile.

She nodded approvingly. "You learn quickly. That's good." She hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "Be careful around Mrs. Blackwood tomorrow. She's been... tense since her return."

I raised an eyebrow. "More than usual?"

"She and Mr. Gideon had another argument this morning. I've never seen him stand up to her quite so forcefully before." There was a hint of pride in Mrs. Peterson's voice.

"What about?" I asked, trying to sound merely curious.

"Something about board positions and research protocols." She shook her head. "The young master insisted on reviewing all current trials personally. She didn't take it well."

That explained the text I'd received from Gideon earlier: "Plans accelerated. Be ready."

Saturday evening arrived with a flurry of activity. Florists, caterers, and security personnel swarmed the mansion. I slipped into my formal black dress with white apron, styling my hair into a neat bun as required.

The guests began arriving at eight—men in expensive suits, women dripping in jewels. I circulated with trays of champagne, ears alert for useful information.

Margot held court in the center of the grand hall, resplendent in a deep red gown that emphasized her still-striking figure. At fifty-eight, she remained beautiful in a severe way, her silver-streaked dark hair elegantly styled, her posture regal.

Gideon appeared at nine, fashionably late to his own mother's party. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. My breath caught at the sight of him, and I wasn't the only one affected—several female guests turned to watch his entrance.

"Ah, here he is!" Margot's voice carried across the room, artificially warm. "My brilliant son, finally gracing us with his presence."

Gideon crossed to her, placing a dutiful kiss on her cheek. "Mother. Lovely party."

"Senator Harrington was just asking about the new neurological research," she said, drawing him into conversation with an older man with silver hair.

I continued serving drinks, gradually working my way closer to their group.

"The preliminary results are promising," Margot was saying, "but we need additional funding to accelerate the timeline."

"And additional oversight," Gideon added smoothly. "We're implementing new protocols to ensure transparency at every stage."

I caught the flash of irritation in Margot's eyes before her social mask slipped back into place. "My son is so conscientious," she told the senator with a practiced laugh. "Just like his father."

The mention of Gideon's father seemed to charge the air between them. Gideon's jaw tightened momentarily before he excused himself, moving toward the bar.

I followed discreetly, waiting until no one was watching before approaching to collect empty glasses.

"Everything okay?" I murmured, barely moving my lips.

His eyes met mine briefly. "Change of plans. Meet me in the library at midnight. Wear something you can move in."

By eleven-thirty, the party was in full swing. The dining room had been transformed into a dance floor, with a small orchestra playing in the corner. I watched from the periphery as Gideon danced with a stunning blonde woman, maintaining his cover as the charming heir while his eyes occasionally sought mine across the room.

Jealousy pricked at me—an unprofessional reaction that I quickly tamped down. This wasn't real life; it was a mission. Whatever was developing between Gideon and me was complicated by too many layers of deception and obligation to be trusted.

At precisely midnight, I slipped away to change into dark pants and a black sweater before making my way to the library. The party sounds faded as I moved deeper into the mansion.

Gideon was waiting, similarly dressed in dark clothing. He'd exchanged his formal shoes for silent athletic ones.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded. "Security cameras?"

"On a loop for the next thirty minutes. We need to be quick."

We moved silently through the mansion to the third floor, where Margot's private office was located. Unlike the rest of the house with its classical elegance, this space was starkly modern—all glass, steel, and white surfaces.

Gideon approached a seemingly ordinary wall panel and pressed his palm against it. Nothing happened.

"Damn," he muttered. "She's changed the security protocol."

I stepped forward. "Let me try."

From my pocket, I withdrew a small electronic device—a security bypass tool I'd brought with me when I first arrived at the mansion. It took less than a minute to override the system, causing the panel to slide open and reveal a sophisticated keypad.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. Where did you learn that?"

"Trade secret," I replied with a small smile. "What's the code?"

"It used to be my father's birthday, but if she's updated the palm scanner..."

I connected another device to the keypad. "This will run through likely combinations."

As we waited for the device to work, Gideon stood close behind me, his presence warm and solid. I could feel his breath on my neck, raising goosebumps along my skin.

"You continue to surprise me, Harper Bennett," he murmured.

Before I could respond, the keypad flashed green and a hidden door slid open, revealing a small, sterile room that looked more like a laboratory than an office.

"We have fifteen minutes at most," Gideon said as we entered. "The evidence should be in the safe behind that painting."

While he worked on the safe, I examined the room. Glass cabinets lined one wall, containing vials of clear liquid labeled only with numbers and codes. Another wall held framed certificates and awards, including a large photograph of Margot shaking hands with a prominent politician.

"Got it," Gideon announced, swinging the safe door open to reveal stacks of files and a small metal case.

We worked quickly, photographing documents and collecting samples. Just as we finished, a noise from outside the office froze us both.

Voices. Coming closer.

Gideon closed the safe and reset the painting while I returned the samples to their exact positions. We slipped out of the inner room just as the office door began to open.

With nowhere else to go, Gideon pulled me behind a large decorative screen in the corner of the main office. We pressed together in the small space, hardly daring to breathe.

Margot entered, accompanied by a man I recognized as Dr. Whitman, the research director I'd seen in photographs.

"The trial results are concerning," Whitman was saying. "Three more adverse reactions this week alone."

"Acceptable losses," Margot replied coldly. "The potential profit margin justifies the risk."

"But the ethical implications—"

"I don't pay you to worry about ethics, Doctor. I pay you for results." Her voice was steel. "Double the dosage on the next test group. I want conclusive data before the FDA meeting."

In our hiding place, Gideon's body tensed against mine. I placed a hand on his arm, silently urging restraint.

"As you wish," Whitman said, resignation evident in his tone. "I'll adjust the protocols immediately."

They continued discussing technical details that made my blood run cold—deliberate falsification of data, manipulation of test subjects, bribery of officials. Beside me, Gideon's breathing grew more controlled, more dangerous.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, they left. We remained hidden for several more minutes to ensure they were truly gone.

When we finally emerged, Gideon's face was a mask of controlled fury. "She's accelerating the trials. We need to move faster."

We made our way back to the library in silence, both processing what we'd heard. Once safely inside with the door locked, Gideon paced the room like a caged animal.

"Three more deaths," he said through clenched teeth. "Three more people sacrificed for profit."

I approached him cautiously. "We have more evidence now. We can stop her."

He turned to face me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and determination that made my heart race. "Yes, we will. But first..."

In two strides, he closed the distance between us, his hands framing my face as his lips crashed down on mine. This kiss was different from our previous encounters—desperate, needy, seeking solace as much as passion.

I responded immediately, my arms wrapping around his neck as I pressed against him. His hands moved to my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the edge of his desk. Papers scattered to the floor as he stepped between my legs, deepening the kiss until we were both breathless.

"This is dangerous," I whispered when we broke apart, though my hands remained tangled in his hair.

"Everything about this is dangerous," he replied, his voice rough with desire as his lips traced a path down my neck. "But right now, I don't care."

Neither did I. In that moment, the mission, Margot, the evidence—it all faded away, leaving only Gideon and the fire he ignited within me. My legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer as his hands slid beneath my sweater, his touch leaving trails of heat across my skin.

"We shouldn't," I gasped, even as I arched into his touch.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, his eyes locking with mine, giving me a chance to end this.

Instead, I pulled him back to me, surrendering to the desire that had been building since our first confrontation. His hands and lips explored my body with the same intensity he brought to everything else—thorough, attentive, discovering what made me gasp and shiver.

As clothing was discarded and skin met skin, he paused, looking down at me with an expression that went beyond mere desire. "This time," he said, his voice both tender and fierce, "no one can take you away from me."

In the quiet of the library, with the sounds of the party a distant echo, we came together in a passionate culmination of tension and attraction. It was reckless, unprofessional, and absolutely inevitable—like a storm that had been brewing since the moment we met.

Afterward, as we lay tangled together on the leather sofa, reality began to seep back in. The mission. The danger. The complicated web of loyalties and obligations.

But when Gideon pulled me closer, his lips brushing my forehead in a gesture of surprising tenderness, I allowed myself to believe—just for that moment—that we might find our way through this darkness together.