Aria Pov
The morning air outside the hotel felt colder than it should have.
I stepped into the first cab I saw, still feeling the slight, persistent ache between my legs and the deeper soreness in my thighs. Every small shift on the seat reminded me of the night before—of the way he had held my hair, the way he had watched me swallow him, the blank cheque I had filled out like a transaction. One hundred thousand dollars. The number sat in my mind like a stone. I told myself it was practical. I told myself it meant the night was finished and sealed. I did not believe either claim.
My phone rang before the cab had even pulled fully into traffic.
Victoria’s name lit the screen. I answered on the second ring.
“Aria, where are you?” Her voice was bright, already moving at full speed. “I’v
