Amara.
I stepped into the boardroom carrying my usual stack of files, heels clicking lightly against the polished floor.
Everything felt routine, but beneath the tailored blazer and crisp pencil skirt, I was wearing the lacey pants Lucien had given me this morning.
I had assumed it was just luxurious lingerie, something indulgent he wanted me to wear, nothing more. I should have known better than to assume anything he gives me is innocent.
I took my seat at the far side of the long table, forcing my posture straight, hands folded neatly in front of me.
Colleagues were already chatting in low murmurs.
Then, from across the room, Lucien’s gaze found me. It lingered. Not long enough for anyone else to notice. Just long enough for me to understand I wasn’t as in control as I thought.
He
