The two days leading up to the charity gala were pure torment. My body was a live wire, constantly humming with forbidden need. Every time I closed my eyes, Mr. Rossi’s text burned behind my lids: Beautiful tits and an even prettier pussy. Good girl. Those words had me waking up in the middle of the night with my fingers buried deep inside my soaked cunt, humping my pillow like a desperate slut while moaning his name instead of his son’s. My addiction had shifted, twisted into something darker, more dangerous. Nicolos was safe, familiar. His father was power incarnate—older, commanding, completely off-limits. And that only made me wetter.

I...