Amara
I had just finished washing my face in the bathroom and was drying it with a towel when I reached for my phone.
And the first message I saw was from him, Lucien.
Sweet dreams, Miss Williams. I have a feeling tomorrow you will have a really beautiful dream.
I stared at the message for a full minute, my stomach flipping. How did he always know? The timing, the tone—just enough to rattle me. Just enough to stick.
And it did. The dream came rushing back. His hands are on me. His voice, when he called me a good girl. Silk tied around my wrists. The look in his eyes was like I was something he owned.
I threw the phone across the bed and buried my face in my pillow.
This had to stop.
By 8 AM, I was dressed in the most professional outfit I owned—navy blazer buttoned up to the neck
