Devilish secretary - Chapter 297

Chapter 297: Chapter 297 Tempting Lilith
Alexander replied: I need the unedited footage from the police station—date and time range attached. Someone tampered with it. I want the truth.

There was a short pause.

@Bellatrix_19: Understood. Do you want me to recover, trace, or just unlock?

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t used to hackers giving options like a shopping cart.

“Recover and trace. Find out who erased it too.”

@Bellatrix_19: Okay, sir. I’ll begin now. You’ll have your answer soon.

****

Alexander arrived at Lilith’s small house, carrying a bag of food for her. He rang the bell, and Sir Sparkleton—now her professional butler opened the door.

Sir Sparkleton greeted him like a proud host of a five-star hotel that had lost all its stars in a storm.

“WELCOME BACK HOME, MASTER! WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE WATER, TEA, OR COFFEE?”

Alexander raised a single brow. “…Tea.”

Sparkleton blinked.

“SORRY MASTER. TEA WAS CERTAINLY UNAVAILABLE.”

“…Was?” Alexander asked slowly.

“YES. WAS. NOT NOW.”

He sighed. “Coffee?”

“SORRY MASTER. COFFEE WAS CERTAINLY UNAVAILABLE.”

Alexander stared at him, dead-eyed. “…Water.”

Sir Sparkleton straightened proudly. “CERTAINLY AVAILABLE! TAP WATER IS FLOWING STRONGLY. MISS LILITH’S MINERAL WATER STOCK HAS BEEN EXHAUSTED.”

Alexander closed his eyes for a brief moment. He was this close to asking for juice out of spite.

He finally walked inside and dropped onto the low sofa, letting out a breath. “And Lilith?”

Sparkleton stood taller—if that was possible. “MISS LILITH IS AVAILABLE. CERTAINLY. SHE IS CURRENTLY OCCUPIED—SHOWERING.” His mechanical eyes flickered as he processed the data. Then, suddenly—

His eyes narrowed. His voice dropped a pitch.

“…MASTER. ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH ME?”

Alexander’s eyes slowly turned toward him, stunned.

“What—”

“BECAUSE IF SO, I MUST INFORM YOU I AM LOYAL TO MISS LILITH.” Sparkleton beeped, arms folding with sass only a robot in denial of his role could muster.

Alexander rubbed his temples.

Lilith stepped out, her hair damp and wrapped in a towel, Her hair was still damp, strands clinging to her cheeks, and a white bathrobe hung loosely around her figure—cinched only enough to tease imagination, not hide it. A small towel hung over her shoulder as she casually dried her hair.

When her eyes landed on him…her human doll, sitting stiff on the sofa with a food bag in his lap, her lips curved into that charming, disarming smile.

“You brought food?” she asked, voice still soft from the steam, with a playful tilt in her tone.

Alexander swallowed once.

Hard.

“I… I brought food,” he repeated like a broken tape, trying to calm the sudden skip in his heartbeat. He looked up at her and instantly regretted it.

That damp look, bare legs beneath the robe, and her usual cool expression? Dangerous.

Deadly.

And now his brain made it worse.

Because the image returned—the one Sienna planted in his head.

Lilith. In a police uniform.

Tight, dark blue. Hair tied. Handcuffs in one hand, baton in the other.

He shouldn’t help it.

If she were a police officer…

He would gladly become her most wanted criminal.

The kind she had to chase, corner, and punish.

He stared too long.

Lilith raised a brow, towel still in hand. “Why are you looking like that?”

Alexander blinked out of his daydream and cleared his throat, setting the food bag on the table with a little more force than needed. “Nothing. Eat. I brought your favorites.”

Sir Sparkleton rolled in from the side with absolutely no timing awareness.

“WARNING. MASTER’S TEMPERATURE RISING. POSSIBLE SYSTEM MALFUNCTION.”

Lilith chuckled lightly as she sat beside him, taking the bag and peeking inside. “What did you imagine just now, human doll?”

Alexander didn’t answer.

He was too busy imagining what kind of punishment her handcuffs could deliver.

Lilith quietly walked into her small bedroom, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. The lights were dim, just enough to cast warm shadows across the walls. She slipped into a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a loose cotton top, her body relaxed, her expression unreadable. She carried a towel in her hands, about to dry her damp hair, there was no vanity here, just the plain mirror leaned against the wall.

She stood by it, fingers combing through wet strands, when Alexander entered.

And when he saw her standing there, backlit by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, water still dripping from the ends of her hair, her skin glowing softly from the shower—he couldn’t stop himself.

He stepped closer. Silently.

She noticed.

Lilith turned her head slightly, and just as she lifted the towel to her head, he reached forward and took it gently from her hands.

“Let me,” he said, his voice low.

Rough.

Dangerously husky.

Her fingers paused. She studied his face for a second, eyes darker than usual, focused only on her. Then she nodded once and sat at the edge of the bed, giving him her back.

He kneeled behind her, slowly bringing the towel to her hair. The room was quiet. Only the soft rustling of fabric and the quiet beat of his breathing filled the space. His hands moved slowly, pressing the towel against her scalp, then sliding down through the strands with patient care.

And then—

He let the towel drop to the side and used just his hands.

His fingers slipped through her damp hair, smoothing, untangling.

Again.

And again.

His touch wasn’t rushed.

It was reverent.

The way he ran his fingers down her strands, curling them slightly at the ends—he touched her like she was something delicate. Rare. The kind of softness he didn’t deserve but couldn’t stop reaching for.

His breath grew deeper.

Her scent faintly floral, something warm clung to her damp skin. Her shoulders were bare. Her neck slightly tilted as she relaxed under his hands.

He leaned in without thinking.

His breath brushed against her nape.

His fingers slowed.

So soft, he thought. Her hair, her skin, her silence… everything about her feels like it should belong to me.

His eyes darkened, not with anger, but need.

That quiet, dangerous kind.

He wasn’t thinking about her house anymore.

Or the dinner waiting.

All he could think about…

Was her.

His Lilith.

In his hands.

Under his touch.

And how one word from her, just one could make him lose every bit of control he was barely holding on to.