Page 73 of Untamed

Those words, the sound of his voice, had me twisted up in the sheets, trying to breathe through the ache building between my thighs. I wanted release, but more than that, I wanted him. I closed my eyes and imagined it was his hand instead of the suction toy I had purchased days before. His voice in my ear. His body pinning mine down, God, it had me climaxing in less than a minute.

And when I came, I said his name.

Out loud.

Like a confession.

Like a prayer.

I have to stop this, because it’s not right. I should be afraid of him, but I’m not. If anything, it’s the opposite. The dark and mysterious side of him...it thrills me. It stirs something deep in my groin that has me squeezing my thighs whenever he’s near.

Just as I start drifting, my phone vibrates on the small table beside me.

ROCCO.

My stomach dips.

I hesitate, thumb hovering, before swiping to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jordyn. Sorry to call out of the blue, but I need a favour.”

The words make me sit up straighter; all drowsiness chased away by the edge in his voice.

“Sophia’s called in sick, and we’ve got an exclusive VIP event tonight. Big money, big expectations. The client specifically requested you.”

I blink. “Requested me? Why?”

“I don’t ask questions. He liked your vibe. You made an impression. I’ll pay you triple for the shift, and you can keep your tips if you can help me out.”

Triple.

My bank account practically whimpers.

But all I can think about is Ares. His voice, his threats. The heat in his stare when he told me not to go back.

And still, my mouth moves before my brain can stop it. “Text me the details.”

No one tells me what I can and cannot do, least of you,Ares Russo.

Tonight, I’m ordered to dress differently, crafting a version of myself that feels powerful and in control. Not because Rocco dictated my attire, he didn't utter a single word about what I should wear, but because I needed to assert my autonomy, to determine how I was perceived and how I was touched. I wanted to enter this space on my own terms, with confidence and independence.

I choose a striking red co-ord ensemble. The skirt is a daring, form-fitting mini that clings to my curves and ends high on my thighs, accentuating every movement. The matching crop top is sleeveless and tight, revealing just enough of my midriff to demand attention. The colour is bold, audacious, making me feel like I could embody those qualities, too. Instead of the usual stiletto heels, I'm sporting a pair of sleek, sexy black boots crafted by Cavallo Nero, Enzo's esteemed company. The rich leather hugs my calves snugly, and the polished finish gleamsunder the light, adding a touch of elegance and allure to my outfit.

As I step into Eden, the atmosphere envelops me, familiar yet intoxicating. The air is thick with the mingling scents of perfume, liquor, and an undercurrent of desire. The bass-heavy music pulses through the walls, each beat resonating with the quickened rhythm of my heart.

Rocco notices me immediately as I enter. His gaze travels down my body, and for the first time, I don't shrink under his scrutiny. “Cristo,” he mutters, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna ruin lives in that outfit, Cara.”

I arch an eyebrow, a playful challenge in my voice. “Isn't that the point?”

He chuckles, already gesturing for me to head down the hallway. “VIP lounge. Private client. He asked for you specifically. Be sweet, keep his glass full, and don’t linger unless he asks you to. He’s paying a lot of money to be served by you personally, so keep him happy and I’ll compensate you generously.”

There’s an edge to his voice that sends a shiver through me, but I nod and proceed. The corridor stretches ahead; each click of my heels echoing louder than seems possible. My fingers brush the plush velvet of the curtain as I push through, my heart pounding in anticipation.

Inside the lounge, the ambiance shifts to one of intimacy and allure. The lighting is dimmer, casting softer, warmer shadows that dance across the room. Conversations murmur quietly around me, accompanied by the gentle clink of glasses and the tinkling of ice, a subtle soundtrack to the scene.

Then, I spot him.

Nicolai Moretti.

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