Rosette's POV
The cab ride home felt like traveling between two different worlds.
I clutched my purse tightly in my lap, still wearing the wrinkled black dress from last night, and stared out the window as the glittering skyscrapers gave way to my rundown neighborhood. The morning sun was already climbing higher, mocking me with its brightness.
By the time I pushed open the door to my tiny studio apartment, I felt exhausted, sore, and strangely empty.
I kicked off my heels and headed straight for the shower. The water was nowhere near as luxurious as the one in his penthous, but I stood under the weak spray for almost twenty minutes, scrubbing every trace of him from my skin. It didn’t work. I could still feel his hands on my thighs, his mouth between my legs, the deep, commanding way
