Warning: This story contains explicit scenes and is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. “You said you’d never touch me again.” “I lied. And you like that, don’t you?” “Ten Sinful Commandments? Sounds like a church gone wild.” “More like a sin you’ll beg to confess.” Lydia Grace thought she left her past—and him—behind. But when she walks into a luxury club in Milan and locks eyes with Damian Moretti, the dangerously dominant man who once made her break every rule she lived by… it all comes flooding back. He’s powerful, seductive, and hiding a secret that could burn the world they both know. But Damian isn’t just here to rekindle the flames. He has a plan. One that involves ten unholy rules, whispered against her skin—rules that tempt her deeper into a game of control, surrender, and secrets. “You want me to obey you?” “No, sweetheart. I want you to crave it.” But Lydia has secrets too. A broken past, a ruined family legacy, and a dangerous mission that puts her right back in his arms… and at his mercy. Ten commandments. One forbidden man. And a past that won’t stay buried. Obsession is the first sin. The rest? You’ll have to beg for them.
Lihat lebih banyakLydia didn’t go to the gallery that day.She stayed home. Curtains half-drawn. Coffee untouched. The photograph of Damian—kneeling, bloodied, younger—burned on her nightstand like a warning she couldn’t look away from.Her phone buzzed again.Damian: “You left the envelope open. That’s brave.”She didn’t respond.Buzz.Damian: “Do you know what number two is yet?”Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Then, finally:Lydia: “You’ve done this before. Haven’t you?”A long pause.Buzz.Damian: “I’ve never done you before.”She hated the jolt of heat that sent through her. Damn him. Every word felt like a velvet rope—soft but coiled with tension.She tried to turn her phone off.But it lit up again.Damian: “Check the box by your door.”She froze.Slipped quietly to the door.A black box sat there. Wrapped in matte ribbon, cold as the air around it.Inside: a phone. Not hers. A burner.And a note.“Only this line. When I want you, you’ll know.”It lit up instantly in her hand.Unknown Numbe
Lydia stared at herself in the mirror.The bracelet was still there.No key, no clasp, no logical way to remove it—not without tools or force. It felt more like a mark than jewelry. A reminder. A warning. A dare.The Latin phrase haunted her now. Aut disce aut discede.Learn or leave.She didn’t know which she was doing.Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.Damian: Wear something that makes you feel powerful. Tonight, the first commandment begins. Car picks you up at 8. Don’t be late.There was no “would you like to join me” or “are you ready?”Just a directive. Inevitable. Like gravity.And God help her—she responded with one word.Lydia: Okay.—The car arrived precisely at eight. Sleek, black, window-tinted. The driver didn’t speak—just opened the door with a nod.As she stepped inside, her heart pounded a fierce rhythm.Her dress was deep crimson, backless, thigh-slit to the hip. A rebellion stitched into silk. She didn’t wear it for him. She wore it for her. For the mirror. For the
Lydia stood in front of the black double doors, heart pounding so violently it echoed in her ears. The card Damian left her—black, unmarked, just an address and a time—was still tucked into her coat pocket, like a dare burning against her skin.She was here. She shouldn’t be.And yet, she wanted to be.A dark-suited man opened the door without a word, eyes cool as he stepped aside. Inside, shadows and gold met her. Velvet walls. A low hum of jazz. Opulence wrapped in mystery.And him.Damian stood across the room like he owned every secret within it. His shirt, half unbuttoned. A tumbler of whiskey in one hand. And that gaze—unchanging, unreadable, but devouring.“You came,” he said simply.Lydia swallowed, walking in as the door shut behind her.“I shouldn’t have.”“But you did.”He moved toward her slowly. Each step deliberate. Commanding. She fought the urge to step back.“I have one rule, Lydia.”Her spine straightened. “Only one?”“For now.”He handed her a folder. Black leather.
Lydia’s phone buzzed just after midnight.Her heart leapt before her brain caught up. She shouldn’t be expecting anything—or anyone—but somehow, she was.Damian.Her breath hitched as she picked up the phone, the glow of the screen casting shadows across her skin.Are you alone?Two simple words.And yet they made her thighs press together in instinctive anticipation.She hesitated… then typed:Yes.The reply was almost instant.Good. I want you to do something for me.Lydia swallowed hard, staring at the words like they might burn into her soul.She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours.And yet the heat in his gaze haunted her dreams. The way he’d touched her chin like a challenge. The way he’d walked away—like he knew she’d follow eventually.Touch yourself. But don’t finish. Not unless I say so.Her fingers trembled. Was this really happening?A thrill surged through her body, part fear, part arousal. A man she barely knew was commanding her through a screen… and she wanted
The wine was dry. The party was louder than she liked. And yet Lydia Roman stayed rooted in place, her fingers tracing the crystal rim of her glass, waiting for something she couldn’t name.Or someone.The room shimmered in gold and shadows—an engagement party for someone she barely knew, in a city she never wanted to return to. But here she was, twenty-seven, perfectly composed in red silk and stiletto heels, pretending she still belonged in this world of power, money, and whispered sins.“Lydia Roman,” came a voice behind her. Deep. Smooth. Familiar in the most unsettling way.She didn’t have to turn. She already knew.Damian Moretti.The man she’d run from five years ago. The man who once had her pinned against a wall in Milan, whispering things no man ever dared. The man whose name she hadn’t said aloud since… but never stopped thinking.Her breath caught—just a second too long. Then she turned.“Damian.” Her voice was steady. Her heart was not.He hadn’t changed. Tall, effortless
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