Seducing The Heir

Three.

Emily Harper

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL f**k? How did he know?

A surge of incredulous shock washed over me. "Obsessed with me?" I echoed, my mind struggling to process the revelation. "No, that's not possible..."

Mr. McMillan rose from his seat and made his way toward the window, gazing out at the night sky. As he began to speak, his words carried a weight of contemplation. "Emily, I understand this might be perplexing for you to grasp fully, but it's essential to comprehend the scope of the McMillan Group's influence. My son wields unparalleled power, and he stands as one of the most affluent individuals in the entire nation. He possesses the ability to have virtually any woman he desires. Yet, inexplicably, his attention is fixated on you—please know that I hold you in the highest regard, Emily."

My voice trembled as I responded, attempting to reconcile the reality with my own self-perception. "I can't believe… I mean, I don't…"

Mr. McMillan's attention remained on the distant view outside as he continued, his tone measured. "Emily, comprehending this requires a broader context. My son's capabilities extend far beyond mere wealth and power. He can wield formidable influence, and his determination is unwavering when it comes to fulfilling his desires. Nonetheless, my intention in bringing you here today extends beyond this facet of his character."

Perplexed, I sought clarity. "What do you mean, Sir?"

Stepping closer, he reached out and gently took hold of my hand, his touch surprisingly reassuring. "While Ryan possesses the capacity for dominance, he's still, at his core, a young man with vulnerabilities. He remains my son, and his happiness is of paramount importance to me. Initially, I wanted to provide you with time to consider this proposition, but I believe the moment has come to present my request in earnest."

My heart raced within my chest, its rhythm echoing in my ears. "What exactly are you asking of me?"

A faint smile touched Mr. McMillan's lips, and his gaze met mine with a mixture of gravity and warmth. "I'm entrusting you with a significant endeavor. I'm asking you to captivate my son's attention—to subvert his dominance and resolve. My wish is for you to k****e genuine feelings within him, to draw him into an authentic emotional connection."

The enormity of his words sent a shockwave through me. I struggled to absorb their implications. "Mr. McMillan…"

"Please, Emily," he implored, his voice carrying a blend of earnestness and urgency. "You are the singular person I believe capable of achieving this. It's imperative to grasp that should you choose to undertake this challenge, the rewards will be substantial—the sway that accompanies my son's devotion. This is a rare opportunity that could alter the course of your life in unimaginable ways."

Swallowing hard, I grappled with the weight of his proposition, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The allure of such power juxtaposed against the potential consequences of my actions.

"However, I wish to emphasize, Miss Harper, that I am not coercing or pressuring you. If you decide against this endeavor, you are free to leave, to return home. Your decision will be respected."

A sense of trepidation began to settle in the pit of my stomach, and my heart raced faster. Beads of cold sweat formed on my brow as I met Mr. McMillan's gaze, grappling with the gravity of the choice before me. It was an astonishing proposition, one I couldn't believe I was contemplating. Could this be a chance to transcend the corporate hierarchy? Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and met my employer's eyes squarely. "Why?"

"Why what?" he responded, his expression open to my inquiry.

Mr. McMillan's presence felt heavy, the weight of his words and the gravity of his request enveloping the room. As he stepped closer to me, his voice held a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "I have a dream, Emily. A dream to witness my son's genuine happiness, even if it's just for a fleeting moment. He often carries himself as if the world is a mere trinket at his disposal. Impulsive, proud, reckless. If he continues down this path, he will dismantle both himself and the future I've painstakingly forged. That's not a fate I'm willing to accept. I yearn to see his genuine smiles, his authentic love. I wish to witness him find happiness with a woman who loves him deeply before my time comes to an end. Will you grant me this wish?"

My gaze remained fixed on him, a mixture of disbelief and astonishment swirling within me. "Before your time comes to an end?"

Mr. McMillan's response was direct, his voice unwavering. "Yes, Emily."

Shocked words tumbled from my lips, my mind grappling to make sense of this revelation. "Are you unwell, Mr. McMillan?"

He shook his head gently. "That's a discussion for another occasion. Now, I'm asking you whether you're willing to undertake this endeavor."

The weight of his request pressed down on me, and the room seemed to hold its breath. I summoned my thoughts, my trembling hands fidgeting slightly. "I'm sorry, Sir. But I don't believe I can fulfill that request," I managed to say, a mixture of fear and trepidation coursing through me.

A heavy silence hung between us, and then Mr. McMillan spoke with measured resignation. "Very well, Miss Harper. Your decision is acknowledged. However, I hope that you might reconsider in the future. If your stance evolves, please let me know. You're free to leave now."

I nodded, my body feeling unsteady as I turned away from him. Each step away from the room felt like an escape, a desperate attempt to distance myself from the enormity of the situation. A storm of thoughts raged within me as I exited the McMillan mansion.

The night weighed heavily upon me. I found it impossible to sleep, my mind entangled in the intricacies of Mr. McMillan Sr.'s words. I grappled with the notion of what he had asked me to do, the implications, and the ethical complexities it entailed. The thought of seduction, manipulation, and orchestrating emotions felt like an insurmountable challenge. Could I really pursue such a course of action, especially with Rye?

The idea of fleeing, of escaping this surreal proposition, beckoned like a sanctuary. An airport ticket and the promise of anonymity seemed a tempting solution. Yet, the memory of Mr. McMillan's earnest plea and his dream for his son's happiness gnawed at my conscience. I couldn't bear the notion of letting down the man who had offered me so much, who had believed in me when few others had.

My mind oscillated between the dread of the task and the sense of responsibility I felt towards Mr. McMillan Sr. The internal struggle persisted until I made a resolute decision to remain, to contemplate the unthinkable proposition and its implications.

The enormity of the challenge became ever more apparent as my mind's dialogue wrestled with itself. The internal debate reached a crescendo, punctuated by my own self-doubt. Don't you? He already wants to bed you, Emily, whispered a voice within me.

Shut up, I retorted internally, attempting to silence the swirling doubts. Rye just wants to fulfill his own desires. He doesn't truly love me.

The conflicting thoughts raged on, a torrent of uncertainty. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the image of Mr. McMillan's earnest face lingered, a reminder of the trust he had placed in me. I recalled his kindness, his guidance, and his fatherly demeanor. It was an internal struggle between responsibility and self-preservation, between the pursuit of power and the ethical boundaries of my own principles.

What are you going to do, Emily?

Despite my efforts, clarity remained elusive. My hands trembled as I turned off the lights and slipped back into bed, the battle between duty and self-preservation continuing to wage within me.

Morning brought no respite from my internal turmoil. I stood beneath the cold shower, attempting to wash away the uncertainty that clung to me like a second skin. The water's chill did little to quell the tempest of my thoughts. I longed for someone to confide in, but the specter of exposure loomed. Calling Marie or Abby seemed like a precarious path, liable to lead to revelation or persuasion, both of which I was unprepared for.

Dressed and adorned with a facade of normalcy, I entered the office. As the first to arrive, I took solace in the silence and attempted to lose myself in my work. My mind veered away from Mr. McMillan Sr.'s request and the enigmatic figure of Rye McMillan. But tranquility was short-lived as the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps reached my ears.

My gaze instinctively shifted, confirming my premonition. Rye strode through the office, a portrait of confidence in his black suit and red tie. I attempted to avert my eyes, to focus elsewhere, but the gravitational pull of his presence was undeniable.

"Good morning, boss," I greeted, a strained smile plastered on my face, my heart threatening to betray my composure. An internal monologue berated my choice of words, chastising my attempt at casualness.

"Morning," Rye's voice resonated, and my breath hitched. His next words sent a shockwave through me. "You want to do it?"

I froze. Did he somehow know about his father's request? Panic welled within me, my mind racing to recall the flood of emotions from last night. Was it fear, doubt, or something else entirely that had engulfed me? As I struggled to decipher my own feelings, confusion gripped me.

"Do what?" I stammered, feigning a cough to cloak my unease.

Rye's lopsided smile spread across his face, casting a spell that momentarily clouded my thoughts. "You left me hanging last night, remember?" His playful tone cut through the tension, mingling embarrassment with relief. "Am I so easily forgettable, Emily?"

Nervous laughter escaped my lips, the tension in the air diffusing slightly. "I'm not sure what you mean."

He advanced a few steps, his gaze unwavering. "Oh, you know," he teased, his proximity igniting a flutter within me. "You left me wanting more."

My hands trembled as I fought to steady myself, my voice a blend of embarrassment and confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His smile deepened, and I felt myself unraveling beneath his gaze. "Did you really intend to leave me hanging?"

Struggling to find words, my mind scrambled for a response. "I... I wasn't sure..."

"Why don't you come to my office?" Rye's words hung in the air, a mix of invitation and intrigue. "There's something I'd like to show you."

A furrow formed on my brow as I met his gaze, my cheeks ablaze. "What is it, Sir?"

A playful gleam danced in his eyes as he continued, undeterred. "You'll find out."

I found myself at a loss for words, the intensity of his presence and the weight of the situation bearing down on me.

"Come on, Emily. Don't make me beg. I'm your boss."

A mixture of frustration and attraction surged within me. "No, you're not my boss. I work for your father, Mr. McMillan Sr., not for you, Mr. McMillan Jr."

Raising an eyebrow, his smirk only grew more pronounced. "Funny, you just called me 'Sir' a minute ago."

A smile tugged at my lips despite the tumultuous emotions within me. This man will be the death of me.

Rye's tone shifted, his command unmistakable. "My office. Now. Ms. Harper."