Amelia spent the whole week in a haze. Every time she sat at her desk, crossed her legs, or caught her reflection in the glass walls, she remembered Friday night—the way Victor’s fingers had curled inside her, the way Damien’s breath had burned against her ear, Lucas’s tongue flicking over her lip like a promise. She’d gone home soaked, showered three times, and still felt them on her skin.
Saturday dragged. She tried to keep busy—laundry, grocery run, anything to stop checking her phone. At 6:32 p.m. it buzzed.
8 pm. Victor’s penthouse. Black dress. No panties. Don’t be late.
No hello. No question mark. Just an order that made her stomach flip and her thighs press together.
She showered again, slow this time, shaving everything smooth like she knew they’d notice. The black dress was s
