Page 288 of Rosetti Family New York
The air feels thick with tension. This is risky, showing too much, revealing weaknesses he could use against me. But there's power in it too. I let the dress drop the rest of the way, pooling at my feet. I stand there naked, on display for his surveillance.
Touch your breasts. The way I used to.
The directness of his command makes my core tighten. This isn't how our dance was meant to be. I was supposed to tease, to entice, to stay in control while giving him just enough to keep him chasing. Yet my hands move to my breasts, holding their weight before my fingers find my nipples, pinching and rolling them the way he used to, firm enough to almost hurt, just the way I like it. A gasp slips out as pleasure runs through me.
Lie back on the bed. Spread your legs. Let me see how wet you are.
I should stop this. Should take back control. But there's something thrilling about giving in to his commands after threeyears of running, of always looking over my shoulder, of staying alert every moment. I move to the bed, lying back against the silk sheets. My skin tingles with awareness as I slowly spread my thighs, exposing myself completely to his digital gaze.
"You think you know me," I say, even as I reveal myself to him. "You think because you can track me across continents, hack my accounts, monitor my movements, you know who I am."
Touch yourself. Show me how much you've missed me.
My fingers move down my body, between my thighs. I gasp at the first touch, surprised by how ready I am, how much I've longed for touch after denying myself. Too long without anyone touching me, since I've let myself be this vulnerable.
"You've never seen all of me," I whisper, fingers moving in circles, building pleasure that makes my back arch. "Just the parts I let you see."
The phone buzzes again. I reach for it with my free hand, reading his message while my other hand keeps its rhythm.
Slower. I want to see every reaction. Don't hide anything from me.
A breathless laugh slips out as pleasure grows under my touch. "Always the control freak," I murmur, knowing he can hear me through his surveillance. "Always directing every detail."
Despite my words, I slow my movements, circling my clit with careful pressure, showing him exactly how my body reacts.
Two fingers inside. Now. Curl them the way I taught you.
My body responds to his command before my mind processes it, muscle memory taking over as I slide two fingers deep inside, curling them to find that spot that makes my thighs tremble.
Look at the camera when you come. I want to see your eyes.
My breathing speeds up, body tensing as I push myself toward release, following his instructions eagerly. My free hand moves to my breast, pinching my nipple hard like he used to.
"God, Emilio," I breathe, losing control as I get closer to the edge. "Remember how you used to touch me? How you knew exactly where I needed you?"
Another buzz from the phone, but I don't check it yet, too focused on the building pressure.
"Remember how I felt around you?" I gasp, fingers curling inside. "How tight and wet I was for you? Only you..."
My breathing quickens as pleasure peaks and crashes over me in waves, leaving me trembling. Not calculated, not planned, a genuine moment of vulnerability in a life full of lies. My back arches as I ride out the orgasm, gasping his name again and again.
Afterward, I lie still as reality returns and my breathing steadies. What have I done? I've exposed myself, both literally and figuratively, to a man who's been chasing me. A man who doesn't know why I left, who probably hates me for my betrayal. A man who could ruin everything I've worked for with one phone call.
I reach for the phone, reading his last message:
I'm coming for you. Not just your digital self. You. All of you. Whatever you're hiding, wherever you're running, it's over. I've let you lead this dance for too long. Now it's my turn.
Panic threatens to overwhelm me, but I push it down, sitting up with as much dignity as I can. I did that on purpose, I tell myself. To punish him for violating my personal space, setting up cameras, breaking in and leaving a fucking flower. To punish him by showing him what he doesn't have, and never will. To punish him, not me.
I stand up, pick the dress up from the floor, and take it to the closet. I need a new outfit, something that doesn't remind me of what just happened. Something that doesn't make me feel so exposed. The clock reads 8:25. I have thirty-five minutes until I meet Connor Callahan to continue pretending to be a loyaloperative. My fingers tremble a bit as I choose a different dress. Sleek navy blue, high-necked, long-sleeved. It's armor, not an invitation.
As I get dressed, I feel the weight of what I've done settling in my stomach. I've just handed Emilio power I can't afford to lose. I've shown him that despite everything, I still react to him, still want him, still remember.
I check my appearance one last time, making sure every bit of vulnerability is hidden under perfectly applied makeup and flawless clothing. The woman in the mirror looks composed, professional, ready for whatever comes next. Only I know the chaos beneath the surface.
As I grab my phone and purse, I glance at the bedroom doorway, at the cameras. Despite the risk, despite the fear, a part of me, a dangerous, reckless part, is glad he was watching. Glad the memory of what he saw will haunt him as much as the memory of his touch haunts me.
I activate the penthouse's security system as I leave, knowing that Emilio has the footage and will be analyzing every second, every word, every move. Let him. Let him think he's gaining the upper hand while I carry out the next phase of my plan.
