Eleanor’s POV

“There’s another one.”

Marcus’s voice was flat when he handed me the phone. I was still naked under the sheet, thighs sticky from the way he had taken me an hour earlier, slow and deep enough that I could still feel the ghost of him with every shift of my legs. The second photograph loaded on the screen in high resolution.

Me. Back against the suite window. His hand in my hair. My face tipped back in an expression that could never be explained as professional. The gap in the curtains had been wider than either of us realized. The message underneath was shorter this time.

Your move....