The luxury car moved smoothly through the city, the soft hum of the engine a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Amelia’s chest. The blurred lights outside streaked past her window, but she barely saw them. Her thoughts were trapped in a vicious cycle, spinning through what was about to happen, what she had agreed to, and the choice she had made.
Her fingers twisted together in her lap, a nervous habit she had never been able to shake. She had expected at least a few days before Andrew summoned her, a brief reprieve to prepare herself mentally. But no—he wasted no time in collecting on their deal.
A chill ran down her spine, but she squared her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to second-guess herself now. Oliver’s future depended on her ability to stomach whatever was to come.
The driver never spoke, keeping his eyes forward as he maneuvered the car through the streets. The silence pressed against her ears, thick and suffocating. When they finally pulled up in front of an imposing penthouse building, her heart slammed against her ribs.
The door was opened for her before she could even reach for the handle.
“Mr. Best is expecting you,” the driver said, his tone neutral.
Amelia swallowed and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement. The entrance was all glass and polished steel, reflecting her own hesitant expression back at her as she moved through the grand lobby. The concierge barely acknowledged her, already aware of who she was here to see.
The elevator doors slid open silently, revealing a space lined with mirrored walls and velvet carpeting. She hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. The doors closed, and she was alone with her reflection.
She barely recognized the woman staring back at her.
Her body trembled slightly as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her lipstick, swiping it across her lips. If she had to do this, she would at least do it on her own terms. The first time he had taken things into his hands, and the memory of it all still played in her mind.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal Andrew Best’s penthouse.
The space was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a panoramic view of the city skyline, the dim lights casting everything in a golden glow. The decor was sleek, modern, and undeniably masculine, all sharp edges and deep tones. But Amelia barely took any of it in. Her attention was locked onto the man standing near the bar, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid.
Andrew turned slowly, his piercing blue eyes locking onto her the moment she stepped inside.
“You came,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
A humorless laugh almost escaped her. Of course she had come. Did she even have a choice?
“I didn’t realize you’d summon me so soon,” she said instead, keeping her voice steady.
Andrew took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down and strolling toward her. Every movement was deliberate, predatory.
“Did you think I would wait?” He tilted his head. “That I would forget?”
Amelia stiffened. “No.”
He reached out and took her coat, his fingers grazing her shoulders as he slipped it off her frame. The contact sent a shiver through her, though whether from fear or something else, she couldn’t say.
Andrew draped the coat over a nearby chair before stepping closer, his gaze sweeping over her like he was inspecting something he had just purchased. And in a way, he had.
Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.
“You’re tense,” he observed, his voice quieter now.
Amelia swallowed hard. “This isn’t exactly a normal situation for me.”
A slow smirk curved his lips. “No, I imagine not. But we've already made acquaintance in my office.”
Amelia swallowed hard.
He reached for his drink again, taking another sip before setting it aside. “I assume Oliver’s bills have been settled?”
She nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence stretched between them.
Andrew took another step, closing the distance between them until she could feel his warmth radiating against her skin. His cologne—dark, rich, and unmistakably expensive—filled her senses, and also tingled something within her. That scent felt familiar, but she can't remember how.
“You understand what’s expected of you tonight, don’t you?”
Her throat felt dry, but she nodded again. “Yes.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He lifted a hand and trailed his fingers down her arm, watching her closely for any sign of resistance. She fought every instinct that told her to recoil.
He seemed pleased by that.
“Good girl,” he murmured, tilting her chin up with his knuckles. “Then let’s begin.”
Amelia closed her eyes for the briefest moment, inhaled deeply, and stepped into the role she had just sold herself for.
This was her life now.
And there was no turning back.
Andrew wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer to him, until their bodies were pressing each other. A shudder ran through her whole body as she felt his breath on her skin. Before she knew it, he was pressing a hard kiss to her lips. Then his hands scrabbled at her dress, ripping it off with a loud, hot wisp.
"Andre—"
He grabbed her face and kissed her again, nipping at her lips, ignoring her call.
Amelia felt sick and turned on at the same time. How that was possible she couldn't explain.
But she has always liked slow seduction, gentle approaches that generally led to complete, wild possession.
This was a little too fast and rough for her. But her body still responded, her panties was soaked and even dripping.
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