The Man I Shouldn't Want: A Game of Seduction and Lies

12. Ruin me, Ric

Ric doesn’t take his eyes off me—not for the next few seconds, not for the next few minutes. Every time I steal a glance in his direction, I find him staring, those dark eyes boring into me, filled with a possessive rage that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not just a passing look, either. It’s intense, unyielding, and there’s a raw edge to it that shouldn’t tempt me, but it does. I can feel my pulse quicken every time our gazes lock, and I hate how much I’m affected by him, by this. I’m fighting a losing battle with myself, trying to suppress the heat pooling in my stomach.

I can’t immerse myself in any conversation after that. Every time someone speaks to me, their words float past my ears, barely registering. I’m too caught up in the memory of Ric — his face inches from mine, the way his breath felt warm against my skin, teasing me, shredding every sense of control I have over my body. I keep thinking about how close I was to letting him cross that line, how I had almost given in to that primal urge to let him ruin me in ways I can’t even describe.

I should’ve let him ruin my dress, damn it.

The image of his hands on me, of his lips hovering just a breath away, keeps invading my mind. I’m sure my lustful thoughts are written all over my face, because Meera leans in close, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.

“Natalie, could you at least try to look present?” she whispers, giving me a pointed look, raising an eyebrow as if to really say: I know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours. Stop drooling over the older man who’s your father’s friend!

But I can’t. I stay in that dazed state, my mind far from the speeches and performances happening around me.

That is, until the host’s voice booms through the audience. “And now, please welcome our next speaker, Mr. Richard Steward.”

Suddenly, I forget how to breathe. The moment his name is called, I feel my stomach twist. Ric catches my gaze one last time from across the room and winks. The camera pans toward him, and I watch as he rises to his feet with that same confidence that makes everything else around him fade into the background.

He strides to the stage, his movements effortless. There’s something about the way he walks, the surety in his steps, that sends another rush of heat through me.

“I won’t disappoint you,” he had whispered to me earlier, right after claiming how he didn’t do crowds, how he wasn’t a people person, and that he didn’t even have a speech prepared. And yet, here he is, commanding the stage as if he’s done it a thousand times before.

The applause around me is almost muted, like white noise. I should be listening to what he’s saying, but his words are just a blur. Instead, I’m completely absorbed by the way his lips move, how his mouth forms each word with a deliberate precision. I recall how they felt against mine, how they trailed down my neck, my body...

I’m losing it. I know I am. This isn’t normal. He’s standing up there, delivering what I’m sure is a brilliant speech, captivating the entire audience with his confidence, his powerful presence, and all I can think about is how sexy he looks by that podium, how he somehow makes public speaking look like an art form. His eyes sweep across the room, but I feel like every time they land on me, they linger just a second too long.

By the time he steps down from the stage, the applause is thunderous. The crowd is buzzing with admiration for him, but I can’t even process the surrounding reactions. My heart is racing, my pulse hammering in my ears. I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, but the heat swirling inside me is impossible to ignore.

“That man is a genius,” Chris says beside me, leaning in with a grin. I nod absently, still too consumed by the sight of Ric.

“Yeah,” I murmur, letting out another slow, shaky breath. “He sure is.”

***

It’s then that the evening shifts again, pulling me out of my haze as Meera nudges me gently. “Nat, you’ve got to let someone interview you before you sneak off,” she insists, her grip tightening slightly. “You can’t just disappear. Your father will kill me.”

I sigh, the thought of being dragged into an interview the last thing I want. All I want to do is leave. Head home and hope — no, pray — that Ric will follow. That he’ll come to me, so I can finally let go of the tension building in my chest and feel the heat of his hands on my skin. But before I can make a decision, I feel a familiar, heavy grip clamp down on my shoulder.

It’s my father.

I barely have time to react before he’s pulling me closer with one hand and dragging Mike along with his other. Mike looks just as frustrated as I feel, his face twisted into a scowl as he tries to pry himself free from my father’s iron grip.

“Dad,” I start, trying to muster some protest, but he cuts me off, his voice a commanding whisper that leaves no room for argument.

“For once, just act for my sake, Natalie,” he snaps, his tone sharp but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “It shouldn’t be that difficult for you, right? This is your profession.”

He shoves Mike and me toward one of the journalists waiting nearby, a well-dressed woman with a microphone in hand, her smile bright and fake, the kind I’m used to seeing in this world. Meera sighs from behind me, clearly defeated. She knows she can’t save me from this.

“I can’t help you here,” she whispers with a sympathetic shrug as she steps back, leaving me and Mike to face the interview on our own.

The interviewer flashes her polished smile, adjusting her earpiece before she begins. I force a dazzling smile for the cameras, but I make sure I look like I’m standing there alone. I straighten my posture, deliberately creating distance between Mike and me, even though we’re side by side.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cooper,” the interviewer begins, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness, “such a pleasure to see you both here tonight. It’s been quite an eventful evening, hasn’t it? Such a star-studded gathering!”

“Oh, absolutely,” I say, keeping my tone light. “It’s been... a memorable evening.”

I can feel Mike bristling next to me, his jaw tightening. The interviewer, sensing the tension, presses on, though she’s careful to phrase her questions delicately. She tries to be subtle, she’s trying hard, I’ll give her that. But I can see the curiosity burning in her eyes. She’s dying to dig deeper.

“Congratulations once again to you, Mr. Mike on your new business venture. I can't help but recall the launch party. There’s been quite a bit of news circulating recently... regarding your personal lives. Care to share anything with our viewers?”

I don’t miss a beat. “Well, news is a funny thing, isn’t it? People always have something to say.” My smile doesn’t falter, but my words carry an edge as I turn slightly, making it clear I’m addressing the audience, not Mike.

Mike, however, doesn’t have the same grace. “Yeah, people talk a lot of crap,” he snaps, his voice colder than it should be for an interview.

I bite back a laugh, keeping my composure as I glance at him, my expression the picture of calm. “You know,” I say, my voice dripping with subtle sarcasm, “Mike could’ve made a great actor. He’s always had a way of... playing with people’s hearts.”

Mike’s jaw clenches, and I can see the irritation flare in his eyes. “And you,” he retorts, his tone biting, “you’ve always been great at making things up. Must be that writer’s imagination of yours.”

Oh, he’s accusing me of lying now? What an asshole!

The interviewer shifts awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension that’s quickly escalating. She tries to steer the conversation back to safer ground, but the damage is done. We’ve already begun roasting each other, and I can’t stop. I flash another sweet smile at the camera, the kind that hides venom. Like a netted veil does.

“Honestly,” I continue, my voice smooth, “I thought I’d be able to come out of this neutral, maybe even gracious. But I guess some people just never change. Or even feel remorseful for their wrong actions. Not even apologetic.”

The interviewer coughs, looking increasingly uncomfortable as she fumbles for a new question. And then I realise I’m wasting my time here. I need to head home. Desperate to end this charade, I decide to switch gears. “But anyway,” I say, steering the conversation to safer territory, “tonight is about the summit, isn’t it? I think it’s incredible what my father has done, bringing together so many sectors of the industry. It’s really a testament to his vision.”

The interviewer latches onto this lifeline gratefully. “Absolutely! And, in your opinion, who had the best takeaway from tonight’s discussions?”

Without hesitation, I answer, “Ric Steward.”

The interviewer’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Richard Steward?” she echoes. “And what was it about his contributions that stood out to you?”

I smile, trying to recall any word he uttered, but I can’t. “Everything he said was powerful,” I reply. “He has a way with words that really resonates.”

Next to me, Mike bristles, clearly frustrated by being ignored. He tries to butt in, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, I hear a familiar voice.

“Natalie!”

I turn to see Chris approaching, his timing impeccable. Relief washes over me as he strides toward us, clearly here to save me from Mike’s suffocating presence. The interviewer’s eyes light up at the sight of him, thrilled by the unexpected star power.

“Chris,” the interviewer gushes, “such a pleasure to have you here as well!”

“Thank you very much,” Chris answers smoothly. “I’m just very glad to see my favourite co-actor here.”

I offer a shy laugh, turning entirely to face him, and making sure Mike is out of the picture. Oh, how he will hate it.

“Chris is an amazing actor,” I counter.

The interviewer loves it. “The audience surely love the chemistry you two have, and it’s something they talk about even years later. It’s been six years since the movie was released, hasn’t it? Can I ask—are there any upcoming projects between you two?”

Chris slides his arm around my shoulder, his smile easy as he addresses the camera. “Nothing set in stone just yet,” he says, his tone playful, “but I’m hopeful. Natalie here is one of the most talented people I’ve ever worked with. And can we just take a moment to appreciate how stunning she looks tonight?”

I manage a genuine smile, grateful for his rescue. The interviewer wraps up quickly after that, satisfied with the content she’s captured. Chris and I walk away from the cameras together, his assistant and Meera trailing behind us. As we reach the exit where my car is waiting, Chris suddenly turns to me, looking nervous — almost vulnerable.

“So, Nat,” he says, his voice softer now, “have you reconsidered that drink?”

For a moment, I’m speechless, caught off guard by the softness in his voice, the uncertainty in his eyes. He’s usually so sure of himself, so charismatic. But right now, he’s... almost shy.

I hesitate. But I know what I want. I shake my head gently, offering him a regretful smile. “I’m sorry, Chris. I just... I can’t.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes, though there’s a flicker of disappointment too. “I get it,” he says, stepping back as his assistant moves forward to escort him away.

“Thank you for what you did out there,” I mumble in a whisper.

Chris smiles slowly. “Take care, Nat.”

As he walks away, I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. I slip into the backseat of my car, sinking into the cool leather, my mind still spinning from the events of the evening. Just as I’m about to close the door, I glance up — and there he is.

Ric.

Standing at a distance, watching me with that same possessive gaze, like he’s been waiting for this moment.

A slow smile curls on my lips. I blow him a teasing kiss, daring him to come closer.

And deep down, I know he will.