The contract wasn’t on paper.
It was written on his body.
She had told him he was ready for the next stage. He didn’t know what that meant, not until he walked into her loft — not the club this time — but a dark penthouse with blackout curtains, scent of wax and leather thick in the air.
She didn’t speak when she opened the door. She just pointed to the floor. Same signal as before.
Kneel.
Gabriel obeyed, already pulling off his shirt. By now, submission was instinct. His eyes dropped. His knees hit the polished wood.
She circled him like a predator. He felt her presence even when she wasn’t in his line of sight. The silence felt heavier than words.
Tonight, she wore no mask.
Her face wasn’t soft.
She had sharp cheekbones, almond eyes that missed nothing, and lips painted the colo
