CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
~ Stephano
He walked in like a f*****g storm cloud in a tux.
Stephano Maddens. Broad-shouldered, smug-mouthed, wet-haired, sin-stained bastard of a man.
The second I saw him across the ballroom, I knew I was in trouble.
My heart didn’t beat. It slammed. My body didn’t freeze. It short-circuited. And the worst part? I felt it, between my legs, low in my belly, a flutter, a pulse, that sick, shameful heat I thought I’d buried weeks ago.
No.
No, no, no.
Not again. Not this time.
I looked away like I hadn’t noticed. Like I didn’t care. Like I hadn’t once dropped to my knees in his office, let him whisper filth into my ear while he ruined me with his c**k and his voice and that maddening smirk.
He’s just a man, I told myself.
A man with too many suits and a d**k
