Amara
The dress lay across my bed like a dare.
Black silk. Thin straps. It glimmered faintly under the low light, delicate and dangerous at once—something meant for a woman who didn’t flinch when she was seen.
Lucien had sent it earlier, neatly folded inside a black box. There was no note, just a small white card in his precise, deliberate handwriting: Tonight, you’ll learn the first rule. Be ready by eight.
I’d read it more times than I wanted to admit. Each time, my heart thudded a little harder. What rules was he talking about, and why was I curious to learn about them?
I told myself it was for research. For understanding who my boss really was. For control.
But deep down, I knew…
I just wanted to see him again.
And maybe, I wanted him to see me.
Now, standing in front of the m
