Undressed By His Arrogance-Chapter 245: That Should Shut You Up

"Shush!" Winn countered, his lips curving in a dangerous smirk. "Or I will kiss you. That should shut you up."

Ivy clasped her mouth shut. She could feel his hands, holding her in place—restraining her.

"I didn’t do it. Okay?" he said finally. "I was just on the phone with my lawyer. He’s certain the leak didn’t come from his office." Even as he explained, he kept her close, as if proximity could protect them both.

"Then who did?" Ivy demanded, the fire in her tone barely masking the confusion.

"I don’t care," he said, and his jaw set in a sharp line.

"How can you say that?"

"All I care about right now," he continued, "is the ridiculous amount of insults you’ve thrown in my direction since you stepped into this office." His grip tightened slightly on her waist. "Did you forget, Ivy? Did you forget what I can do? Or did you just get a pussy for a man and conveniently forget all the ways I could make you pay for running your mouth at me like that?"

"I haven’t forgotten anything," she said. "I’m just not affected by you, Winn Kane. Not anymore."

"Really?" Winn murmured—dangerously soft, deceptively calm. In a fluid motion that felt both practiced and primal, he spun both of them around until Ivy’s back hit the edge of his desk. "Sweetie... you are."

"No... I am not," she said.

Winn leaned in, lowering his face just enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek. "You see the way you bite your lip when you want to hold on to your resolve..." His eyes flicked downward, catching the subtle quiver of her mouth. "The way your eyes dilate whenever I take one step closer, the way your pulse quickens." His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, fingers pressing lightly—possessively. "You don’t have to admit it, sugar. I can tell."

His gaze dragged slowly over her face, studying every twitch, every breath, every flash of defiance.

"And you and I both know," he went on, "if I wanted to fuck you on this desk, right here, right now... you will not stop me. You cannot stop me."

Her heart kicked. Heat shot through her belly. But Ivy lifted her chin in bold defiance, refusing to let him see how the statement made her knees threaten to buckle.

"Arrogance will not get you anywhere, Winn," she countered. Her fingers curled into the desk behind her.

"Won’t it? I have been standing this close to you for the past few minutes." His hand moved fractionally, sliding across her hip, feeling the tremble she couldn’t quite suppress. "I’m absolutely sure you feel my cock against your thigh and yet..." His grin spread slowly, deliberately cocky. "You haven’t pushed me away."

Winn’s smile deepened. He was savoring her tells.

Her eyes, traitorous and completely beyond her control, dropped to his mouth—those infuriatingly perfect lips. Full, confident, always tipped in that devil-may-care smirk that made her want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure.

She snapped her gaze back up instantly.

"Oh, I saw that," he murmured, grin widening.

"You saw nothing," she shot back.

Winn chuckled. "Sweetheart," he murmured, brushing a knuckle along her jaw, "I see everything."

"Maybe it’s your own wishful thinking," Ivy argued.

"Has he fucked you yet?" Winn asked. "Eugene? Has he fucked you?"

"This is a very inappropriate conversation between business partners."

"Oh, we’re business partners now?" Winn asked, amused. His smirk deepened. "Sweetheart, you are mine, Ivy. You will always be. Whatever he has with you...It’s because I allow it."

His fingers ghosted up her bare forearm and that featherlight touch shot through her. A shiver traveled up her spine before she could suppress it. Worse—her thighs instinctively brushed together. Just a subtle shift, but enough for Winn to notice.

Winn’s eyes flared with amusement—male, wicked, devastatingly confident. He was having the time of his life, and she could see it. He was drinking her in, savoring every flicker of reaction she tried to hide.

Winn lifted his hand, fingers barely brushing her cheek before trailing down toward her mouth. "You should stop me now, Ivy."

His fingers reached her lips, tracing the soft bow of them.

Her lungs locked up.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her mouth was hot under his touch.

"Now is the time to stop me," he murmured, lowering his head until his forehead nearly touched hers.

"If you don’t..." His breath ghosted over her lips. "...I’m going to fuck you in this office."

Ivy cleared her throat and then she maneuvered her way out of Winn’s arms.

"We need to get ahead of this Sharona business," she said. "You may not care but this is important to me. This project cannot fail."

"It won’t," Winn replied casually, leaning one hip against the edge of the desk as if nothing had just happened. As if he hadn’t threatened to take her right there. "It’s too late for the investors to pull out now."

"They may not pull out. But they can stop the funding if they get spooked."

Winn shrugged. "If you would let me fuck you and you give me a baby, we wouldn’t have to worry about that." He teased it with a lazy smile, one eyebrow lifting.

"Winn! Be serious." Ivy snapped. God, he knew how to get under her skin. Or into it. His grin only widened, pleased at how easily he could unsettle her.

"Fine, sweetie." He pushed off the desk, walking around her. "The PR team is already working on spinning the narrative. I’ve notified them to also officially announce our divorce so they know House of Kane has cut ties before all this madness."

"Right," Ivy said. "I’ll get our team on it too. This means I do have to go see the investors. I can’t postpone it any longer. They should know we have a good handle on things."

"If you need backup with the investors... I’ll come."

"No," Ivy said quickly. "I need to do this alone."

He said nothing for a long moment.

Then—softly, quietly—he murmured sinfully. "You’re still shaking, Ivy."

"Fuck you!" she spat.

"Please do," Winn answered instantly—smooth, shameless, and low enough that it skated right down her spine.

Ivy groaned in pure exasperation. Winn, of course, simply chuckled—rich, deep, devastatingly amused.

"Whenever you want to leave, let me know," he said casually, straightening the lapel of his suit jacket before adjusting something else lower—much lower. "You can use the Orchard jet?"

"No thank you. I’ll be fine."

"If I come out of all these madness unscathed," he said slowly, "I’m getting you back, Ivy. If at some point in my life, I find peace, you’re mine."

"Keep dreaming," she shot back immediately, refusing to let him see the split second her chest tightened. She turned on her heel before he could catch it. "And find that damned leak! ’Cause it sure as hell didn’t come from me!!!"

The door shut behind her with a sharp click.

Winn chuckled again. He dragged a hand down his face.

If he hadn’t held himself back—if he hadn’t fought his instincts—she would have been on that desk. Writhing. Begging. Clinging to him the way only she ever did. The way only she ever could.

He leaned back against the desk, letting out a long exhale. He had to keep her safe—even if that meant keeping his hands off her.

Despite her protests, despite her impossible stubbornness, he was going to wreck every single person who had hurt her. Who had touched her. Who had threatened her life and taken their child from them.

He just didn’t know yet if he would get away with any of it.

And until he did... there was no use fighting for her.

Winn sighed heavily, rolling his shoulders back as he adjusted his pants—again—where evidence of Ivy’s effect on him still lingered.

"Jesus," he muttered to himself.

He pushed off the desk.

He had work to do. A storm to contain.

*****

Ivy went to see Eugene after her college classes that evening. Eugene sat in the deep leather chair he’d claimed since he left the hospital—old-man posture, blanket over his lap, cane leaning beside him. He looked up the moment Ivy walked in, his face brightening in a way that made her chest tighten with guilt she didn’t want to name.

He was already on his feet but still needed the cane to steady himself.

"You look like my grandpa." Ivy laughed, dropping her bag on his couch and stretching her sore shoulders. Her day had been endless—meetings, assignments.

"Maybe I should hit you with the cane then," Eugene said, lifting it threateningly. "Look more like him, uhn?"

Ivy chuckled, walking closer and brushing a few curls behind her ear. "I have never been on the receiving end of that cane."

"Oh, I have." Eugene tapped it once on the floor with theatrical suffering. "Whenever he comes over, and my parents tell him about all the shenanigans I have been into—exaggerated, if I may add—he never hesitates to use it on me. I instantly feel like a child."