Annabelle paced the length of her room, the sound of her feet muffled by the shaggy rug on the floor. The window was open, letting in the crisp evening breeze, and the sheer white curtains fluttered softly in the wind. But the fresh air did little to soothe her.

Her mind kept replaying that moment in the darkened office. Dante’s gruff, low voice whispered forbidden words that had somehow etched themselves into her brain.

“Maybe I should just fuck you to get you out of my head.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away, but it was pointless. It was as if those words had been carved into...