When they finally reached the Governor’s study, Eliza opened the door and ushered Linus inside, closing it quietly behind them. The faint glow of a single lamp illuminated the sprawling desk at the room’s center, its surface filled with half-written orders, discarded quills, and ink-stained pages. The room was dim, its walls lined with bookshelves, the air thick with the scent of parchment.

  Eliza closed it behind them with an unsettling quiet, the latch clicking into place like a final sentence. She remained by the door, her shoulders taut and tensed.

  Linus didn’t sit. Instead, he paced slowly into the room, the soft tap of his boots against the wooden floor a metronome to the dread building within Eliza. Linus turned to Eliza, his expression darkening as his eyes bore into hers. He intended to unsettle her, to break the fragile composure she was clinging to. "I spoke with Princess Mara," he began, his voice low and menacing. "What your husband has done is treason. Acts like this are more than enough to execute the entire family—to set an example for others."

  Eliza’s composure cracked, the pale mask of her face revealing the raw fear beneath. Her hands fluttered like trapped birds, clutching at her dress as if they might anchor her to reality. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she stood frozen like a statue teetering on the edge of collapse.

  Linus stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the room to envelop her. "The Governor," he pressed, his voice taking on the weight of inevitability, "will be arrested, stripped of his position, his name. And possibly worse." He leaned forward, his tone softening yet somehow becoming even more cruel. "But your fate—your family's fate, their lands, all this wealth—it’s in your hands now."

  He let the words hang in the air, watching as terror gripped her. The room felt heavier, the silence amplifying her dread. Linus stepped even closer, his presence looming over her. "I can guarantee your immunity, Eliza," he continued, his voice smooth but dripping with threat. "But only if you cooperate fully. If not, well..." He trailed off, letting her imagination fill in the horrifying possibilities.

  Her face crumbled, the fight draining from her in an instant. "I-I’ll cooperate," she stammered, the words tumbling over each other in desperation. "I swear it. Anything—just don’t—"

  "Good," Linus cut in, his smile a predator’s baring of teeth. He straightened, his presence towering over her and suffocating her. "Then let’s begin."

  "But before we begin searching," Linus said, his voice low and steady, "I need to ensure my safety. I need to make sure you're not carrying any weapons."

  Eliza’s breath hitched as Linus’s words settled over her like an iron shroud. Her denial came swiftly, but it was brittle, breaking under the weight of his commanding presence. "I… I have no weapons," she stammered, her voice trembling like a taut string on the verge of snapping.

  Linus tilted his head slightly, his dark gaze narrowing as though peering straight into her soul. His lips curled in a faint, humorless smile. "I can't take any chances," he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle, laced with an undercurrent of control. The edges of his words cut sharper than any blade. "A lot is at stake here—for both of us."

  Eliza faltered, her hands clenching at her sides as a flash of uncertainty crossed her features. Her lips parted to protest, but the weight of his presence pressed her silence. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she nodded, the motion jerky and reluctant. Her eyes shone with fear, hesitation swimming in their depths like a drowning creature searching for air.

  Linus stepped closer, his shadow consuming hers as he loomed over her. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing heavier with every heartbeat.

  He moved slowly, methodically, his movements deliberate as though savoring the power he wielded. His hands reached out, resting on her shoulders for a brief, charged moment. The contact sent a shiver rippling through Eliza, her body stiffening like a bowstring. He began his search, his touch precise yet unhurried. His hands slid down the curve of her arms, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of her dress. The movements were professional at first, distant, but beneath the calculated care was something darker—a primal undertone that made the air between them crackle with tension.

  Linus’s gaze roamed over her as his hands moved with precision, drinking in the sight of her form-fitting emerald silk gown. It draped her figure with a maddening elegance, cinching tight at her waist and flaring subtly over the curve of her hips, each contour etched in exquisite relief.

  The neckline dipped low, revealing the soft, pale swell of her breasts, a sight that made his heart race with illicit desire. His heart quickened in his chest, a forbidden rhythm drumming louder with each stolen glance. He swallowed hard, but his composure barely held; the pull she exerted over him was almost gravitational.

  Her long, dark hair cascaded down her shoulders like loose, gleaming waves. It framed her face with a softness that belied the tension etched across her features.

  Linus’s hand, steady yet betraying a trace of something deeper, hovered just a moment too long before grazing the gentle curve of her breasts. The touch was feather-light, deliberate enough to blur the line between accident and intent, yet not enough to warrant outright protest. The sensation sent a jolt through him, an electric shock of forbidden pleasure coursing through his veins. Her breast felt soft and supple beneath the delicate barrier of silk, the warmth of her body seeping through the fabric and teasing his fingertips. The soft silk of her gown, though luxurious, was nothing compared to the yielding flesh beneath, a temptation that felt almost too real, too inviting. The barrier felt thin and fragile, almost mocking in its inability to truly conceal her.

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  His breathing deepened, though he masked it well. His mind raced, a tempest of calculated control and raw, primal yearning. The power of proximity, the vulnerability she exuded, and the allure of her beauty were intoxicating. She was someone else's wife, but here and now, in this dimly lit room, she was in his grasp, tethered to his will.

  Eliza’s breath hitched audibly, her chest rising slightly beneath his hand. Her body tensed, a reflexive defense against the growing invasion of her space, but she didn’t pull away. The tension in her frame spoke volumes—a battle between fear and resigned submission. Linus savored every moment, every silent acknowledgment of his control over her. His power was palpable, a tangible force that hung in the air between them.

  He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath, a contrast to the cool silk. His palms moved slowly down her arms, his touch deliberate, testing her resolve as much as indulging his own desires. Her muscles flexed and relaxed under his fingers, her body betraying her discomfort even as she stood still, silent.

  Then, as he brought his hands to her torso, a shiver coursed through her, subtle yet unmistakable. Linus allowed himself a fleeting, faint smile that spoke of victory and satisfaction at the effect he had on her. He reveled in the tension, the unspoken dialogue playing out in the charged silence of the room.

  "Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and edged with authority. It left no room for resistance, a statement of dominance that hung in the air like a thunderclap.

  Eliza hesitated, the tension in her body a visible protest against the unspoken demands of the moment. Her back straightened, a faint attempt at reclaiming some shred of dignity. But the weight of Linus’s gaze was an unrelenting force, bearing down on her with an inevitability she could not escape. Her breath came in shallow, uneven waves as she forced herself to comply, her legs trembling beneath the shimmering cascade of her emerald gown.

  Slowly, she turned, her movements hesitant and mechanical, as though each step drew her closer to an abyss. The dim light caught the silk of her dress, setting it aglow as she shifted, the fabric flowing like liquid over her body. When she finally stood with her back to him, her vulnerability was stark and palpable, and Linus’s heart surged, a heady mix of desire and domination coursing through him.

  His eyes roamed over her with unrestrained hunger, taking in every detail as though committing them to memory. The delicate curve of her neck beckoned to him, exposed and defenseless, leading down to her shoulders, where the fabric of her gown rested with an almost sinful lightness. The line of her back was elegant, arching gently and dipping at the waist in a way that framed her figure like a sculptor’s masterpiece.

  The silk clung to her hips, taut and unforgiving, accentuating the rounded fullness of her buttocks. It was a display both alluring and tormenting, the fabric a tease that only hinted at the softness it concealed. Each subtle shift of her body sent a ripple through the gown, the material shimmering faintly in the light, drawing his eyes further.

  Linus stood rooted, his breath shallow, his pulse hammering in his chest. He savored every moment, every line of her body that was now his to behold. She was beautiful, yes—but more intoxicating was the power he held in that instant. He knew she felt his gaze, heavy and invasive, a silent declaration of his control over her.

  He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until he was close enough to feel the faint heat of her body through the silk. Her breathing quickened slightly, betraying her discomfort, but she remained still, a captive to the moment he had so carefully orchestrated.

  The sight of Eliza’s back was an exquisite contradiction, a blend of vulnerability and allure that stirred something primal deep within Linus. Her exposed neck seemed to beckon to him, and his thoughts wandered as he imagined the warmth of her skin beneath his lips, the taste of her fear and submission mingling with her elegance.

  Slowly, he placed his hands on her back, the contact light at first but growing firmer as he began to pat her down. His touch was measured and deliberate, each movement a silent declaration of the power he held over her. His fingers traced the delicate back, and he felt it—the faintest tremor coursing through her, a shiver that spoke volumes about the turmoil beneath her composed exterior.

  He continued down her sides, his hands skimming the curve of her waist, feeling the tautness of her muscles beneath the fabric. The tension in her body was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap.

  When his hands reached her hips, he paused, savoring the moment. His palms rested there, tracing the slope of her waist with an almost reverent slowness. The swell of her buttocks, firm and inviting beneath the scandalously thin fabric, held his attention for a moment too long. He pressed his hands against the yielding flesh, relishing the forbidden sensation that sent a thrill surging through him. It was intoxicating, the perfect blend of power and desire, and it ignited something dangerous within him.

  Eliza stiffened visibly, her shoulders drawing tighter as her breath quickened. She fought to remain silent, to conceal the tremor in her voice and the vulnerability in her frame. But Linus could feel the tension radiating from her and the way her body strained under his control. The thin barrier of her gown did little to separate them; the heat of his hands seemed to seep through, a silent reminder of the dominance he wielded.

  His hands slid lower, grazing the backs of her thighs. The fabric clung to her skin, and he felt the smoothness beneath, the warmth that was both inviting and forbidden. His touch slowed as he pressed further, his fingers brushing the sensitive inner curve of her thighs, his control unwavering as he pushed the limits of the moment. The thrill that ran through him was electric, a heady mixture of power and temptation, every second feeding the storm in his mind.

  Eliza shifted slightly, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but it was enough for Linus to sense her discomfort. That discomfort, that silent resistance, only fueled him further. He let his hands linger a moment longer before pulling away, his touch leaving behind an imprint of heat and dominance she couldn’t ignore.

  He straightened, his voice cutting through the charged silence like a blade. "Alright," he said, his tone returning to its calculated neutrality, though the undercurrent of satisfaction was unmistakable. "Now we can begin searching."

  As he stepped back, the room seemed to exhale with them, the tension crackling in the air like the remnants of a storm. But Linus’s gaze lingered, his mind still alive with the memory of her shivers, the thrill of her submission, and the forbidden pleasure of the moment.