Jessica arrives in an outfit that is a masterclass in seduction—a deliberate orchestration of textures, colors, and curves that seem to whisper sweet nothings to the senses.
The dress is a sleek, black number that hugs her curves like a second skin. The fabric, a luxurious velvet-soft material, absorbs the light around her, making her skin glow with an otherworldly radiance. The neckline plunges in a deep V, defying gravity and drawing the eye inexorably to the soft, rounded curves of her breasts. Long, flowing sleeves drape over her arms like dark, silken wings, adding an air of mystery.
But it is the way the dress moves with her that is truly mesmerizing. As she walks, the fabric ripples and flows like a dark, liquid tide, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her toned, athletic legs. And then, of course, there are the shoes—high, stiletto-heeled sandals that elevate her to new heights of sophistication. Delicate straps wrap around her ankles like tender, loving caresses, each step a rhythmic invitation, a siren's call that beckons all who see her.
Confidence radiates from her like a force field. Her high heels click out a steady beat on the polished floors, her hips swaying in a deliberate, sensual motion. Her shoulders are squared, her head held high, and her gaze direct—challenging. Jessica knows she is a woman on a mission, and nothing will stand in her way.
She is led into the house by one of Lorenzo's men, smirking as their eyes follow her, their hunger evident. She basks in the attention. A man like Lorenzo Eduardo wanting her is a trophy all on its own. For a year, she has been his only consistent lover, an anomaly in his world of fleeting indulgences. Unlike his past flings, she hasn't been discarded. He calls her when he craves pleasure, and she thrives on that exclusivity. She knows it's only a matter of time and he'll give what they have a better name than what is it now, she doesn't want to push it but she yearns and prays for a day he'll see her in a different light.
As she enters his room, her stride slows, her movements more deliberate, calculated. She locks eyes with him, a slow, sultry smile curving her lips in a silent promise. She approaches, every inch of her body screaming confidence and sensuality.
Without a word, she reaches out, her fingers trailing down his arm—a whispered promise, an unspoken contract. He responds, leading her into the realm where words are unnecessary. He never kisses—Jessica learned that about him long before they met—but she doesn't mind. Instead, she drops to her knees, offering her expertise, drawing low groans from him.
Roughly, he pushes her onto the bed, securing her wrists in handcuffs. She arches for him, ready, and when he thrusts into her, it is a relentless rhythm that blurs the lines between pleasure and pain. He moves with an urgency that consumes them both. When he finally collapses beside her, breath ragged, he stands abruptly and heads for the bathroom without a word.
She doesn't mind. Lorenzo is a man of few words, rationing them as if each syllable costs him something. She stretches, watching his retreating form before dressing. When he emerges, still breathtakingly handsome, she reaches out to touch him, but he flinches. Irritation flares in her eyes, but she says nothing, turning to leave.
"The money's in the envelope," he says coolly. "Thanks for tonight."
Jessica snatches the envelope, her pride smarting, and storms out.
As she makes her way down the hall, her mood worsens when she bumps into a woman—a stunning one at that. Jessica's eyes rake over her, assessing. The woman is tall and curvy, her rich, dark brown skin glowing like polished espresso. There is something about her—an effortless grace, an unspoken power—that makes Jessica's stomach twist.
Jealousy rises, sharp and unbidden. She doesn't understand it. Lorenzo never entertained women like this one. And yet, something about her feels... threatening.
Jessica straightens, masking her emotions behind a cold, appraising look. But despite her attempt at indifference, something about this stranger unsettles her. She turns sharply, ignoring the woman's questioning gaze, and rushes out, unable to shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at her. It's as if two different lives have clashed as the both women each more different than the other but something pulls them towards the other's world.
ADANNA
After her bath, Adanna browses through the wardrobe, her eyes widening at the array of clothing—each piece suspiciously her size. She brushes off the thought and picks a simple yet elegant outfit.
She glances at herself in the mirror. "We are not dressing up for him," she mutters, shaking off the treacherous thought. Satisfied with her reflection, she steps out of the room, determined to explore her surroundings.
The house is grand, almost intimidating. As she contemplates where to go next, she collides with someone. A woman.
Adanna steps back, taking in the stranger. The woman is shorter, around 5'3", with a slender yet curvy frame. Her golden-brown skin glows under the soft lights, and her dark brown hair cascades down her back in soft waves. Her heart-shaped face holds an expression of something unreadable—something between irritation and... jealousy?
The woman glares at her for a fraction of a second before turning on her heel and striding away without a word. Adanna watches her retreat, confused by the interaction. Who was she? And why did she look at her like that?
Shaking off the encounter, Adanna squares her shoulders. Whatever is going on here, she needs answers. And she knows exactly where to start—Lorenzo.
Her features were finely chiseled, with high cheekbones, a small nose, and full, luscious lips that curved into a perpetual, enigmatic smile. Her eyes were pools of deep, rich brown that sparkled with a hint of warmth. She looked very fragile and delicate, like most women of the country, but she was such a beauty to behold. Adanna was stunned by such sheer beauty. Her style was effortlessly chic, with a black dress that hugged her curves and breasts, which were pointing dangerously toward her, as though they were close to freedom from the fabric. She wore a pair of stiletto heels that added a touch of sophistication to her overall look.
Adanna suddenly felt washed out in comparison to this beautiful woman before her. She spotted the hickeys on her neck and assumed she must be Lorenzo's girlfriend or something. She suddenly decided not to ask her about him, as the woman was already sizing her up condescendingly, which Adanna took as a sign not to ask.
"Please, which way leads to the garden?" she asked, but she decided to cut her tongue as the woman hurriedly walked away. Adanna tried in vain to correct herself but stopped, as she wasn't speaking coherently.
LORENZO
He lay on the bed, resting after he had eased himself with Jessica Rossi, only daughter of the powerful Rossi family, they were into politics and he often wondered how a beautiful woman with a bright future limited herself to an object of pleasure, he had met her in one of the parties thrown in Italy and she - though haughty and smart had given him pleasure with her mouth , he hadn't thought it meant anything then but she had persevered in her quest to sleep with a dangerous man,She was his recent plaything, and he had stuck to her because she knew how to separate business from emotions. But she was now becoming too attached and emotional, which he didn't want. He had assumed what they had going on was her fantasy to be fucked by a bad guy but he knew he had to stop before it led to something he couldn't control. He was still deep in thought when his phone rang. He looked at the caller's name on the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
"Ciao, mamma," he said, listening to her on the other line. Then he got up and spoke in Italian, "Calmati, non vuoi sembrare vecchio, ricordi? Ok, sì, sei arrabbiato. Ok, mom, I want to understand you correctly, breathe, okay? Now tell me, what is it?"
His face darkened, and he clenched his fist while pacing the room. He listened in silence, then finally said, "Don't worry, mom. I'll be careful. Yes, I eat properly. Yes, yes, I am fully hydrated. Okay, I love you. Ciao, buonanotte, mamma."
He ended the call, but something drew his attention. As he looked outside the window, he spotted her.