Upstairs in Damian’s room, Selene stood before the mirror, her reflection glowing in the soft evening light.

Her lips curled into a slow, devilish smile — the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.

She adjusted the strap of her red satin dress, tilting her head just enough to admire her handiwork. Every detail was deliberate — from her softly curled hair to the diamond pendant resting just above her collarbone.

She looked like temptation made flesh.

Her fingers trailed over Damian’s cufflinks on the dresser, and her smile deepened.

“Finally,” she whispered to her reflection. “My turn to make the rules.”

Her voice was low, smooth, and dangerous.

Then —...