The morning sun at the Vance mansion arrived with an unforgiving clarity, bathing the limestone terraces and immaculate gardens in crisp, golden light. Inside the grand breakfast room, the atmosphere was thick, suffocating, and entirely laced with the unspoken sins of the previous two nights.
I kept my eyes trained firmly on my porcelain plate, mechanically moving a fork through my fruit bowl without actually tasting a single bite. My body was a battleground of conflicting sensations. The raw, deep-seated ache between my thighs had settled into a dull, pulsing throb with every micro-movement I made, a constant, heavy reminder of the brutal, relentless weight that had pinned me down on the hotel penthouse floor. Every time I shifted in my cushioned chair, the friction of my jeans against m
