I didn’t know what game he was playing. But I did say ‘yes’.

Maybe because I missed the feeling of unraveling. Maybe because some masochistic part of me wanted to see how far he’d push—to test the edge of his obsession, to find the line he’d warned me not to cross.

Maybe I wanted to know what it would feel like to look into the mouth of madness and not flinch.

He texted me one word after:

Private Room Service: Tonight.

The coffee shop pickup felt like déjà vu with a side of psychological warfare. Adrian arrived exactly on time, opened the door for me without a word, and I climbed in like this was normal human behavior instead of the prelude to whatever fresh hell he’d designed for me.

No conversation. No eye contact. No pretense that this was anything other than what it was.

His estate looked different in the darkness—more imposing, more isolated. Every window was black except for that familiar red glow bleeding down the hallway.

The signal that we weren’t here for conversation or anything resembling normal human interaction.

We were here for something else entirely.

He didn’t speak until we reached the door. Then he turned and pulled out the mask—black satin, devastatingly familiar.

My pulse jumped. “Why the mask?”

Wrong question. I knew better by now.

He tilted his head with the kind of predatory patience that suggested he was already three moves ahead. “You’re not here to see me, princess. You’re here to feel me.”

Then he opened the door.

The room hit me like a physical force—scarlet light painting everything in shades of danger, leather walls that seemed to absorb sound, chains hanging like expensive jewelry.

The table in the center dominated the space, and I already knew I hated it, already knew I needed it.

“Clothes off. Now.” Adrian’s voice was low, commanding, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I hesitated, just for a second, but that was enough.

He was on me in an instant, his hands rough and impatient. He yanked my shirt over my head, the fabric tearing as it caught on my earrings, and then he was pulling my skirt down, leaving me bare and exposed.

No teasing. No warm-up. Just his dominance and my submission.

He walked me to the table like I was a doll he was positioning.

“Hands flat. Knees wide. Ass up,” Adrian growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down my spine.

I obeyed, my body moving on its own, my hands slapping against the cold leather of the table, knees spreading wide while ass lifting in the air like an offering.

The restraints clicked shut before I could even brace myself, the cold bite of leather making me gasp. I was trapped, helpless, and the thought sent a jolt of heat straight to my core.

And then I heard it—soft, sharp, foreign. A breath that didn’t belong to either of us.

I turned my head, the restraints digging into my wrists as my gaze swept the room. And there, tucked into the shadows like a secret waiting to detonate, sat someone tied to a chair.

Rope wound around his arms and legs. Duct tape pressed over his mouth. But it was his eyes that hit hardest—wide, stunned, helpless.

Ethan.

Recognition crashed through me like a tidal wave. My ex. The boy who once called me frigid, sick. Who told me I was “too much.” The boy who walked away when I asked for more than he could handle.

Adrian’s voice curled around my ear, silken and sharp. “Now he gets to see the truth, princess. What he walked away from. What he never deserved.”

My lips parted in shock, but nothing came out. Words failed. Breath failed. All I could do was feel—humiliation, power, desire—flooding through me in equal measure.

Adrian hadn’t just exposed me. He’d transformed me. And Ethan… he was just the audience.

Frozen. Forgotten. Replaced.

Adrian didn’t give me time to protest. His hands spread me wider and I whimpered, helpless to stop him. He slid his fingers down between my thighs, slow and thorough, finding me soaked.

“He thought you were fragile,” Adrian continued, dragging one finger through my folds, spreading the wetness. “But it’s him who couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take what you really needed.”

“No,” he said sharply. “Eyes on me.”

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