That Night

Chapter One

L'ALBERGIO Hotel. Penthouse Suite, 8:00 PM

Carlotta clenched her trembling hands into a fist. She hesitated for a few moments in front of the door before finally reaching for the door handle with closed eyes. Deep inside, she was silently hoping the door was locked. But the fragile thread of hope she was clinging to snapped instantly when the doorknob turned with ease, and the door opened.

As soon as you enter the suite, I want you to strip for me.

Carlotta squeezed her eyes shut.

The room will be dimly lit. When you hear soft background music playing, I want you to dance while taking your clothes off.

Even though she felt small and harbored a sense of rebellion, she had no other choice but to follow every instruction written in the message she had received from Giovanni Galliardi. The man destined to claim her that very night.

He said he wanted to "sample the goods" before signing the actual purchase agreement.

The feeling was so degrading. Demeaning. But she knew she had no other choice but to obey. If she refused, the consequences could fall not only on her, but on her entire family.

She wanted to cry. To run. To escape it all. But she knew there was nowhere to go. Even if she managed to get away physically, she wouldn't be able to escape her own conscience.

The soft strains of music began to echo through the room. Carlotta let out a deep breath, then reached behind her back to lower the zipper of her dress. She wore a tight-fitting red dress that ended mid-thigh. It matched her red, five-inch heels. Her wavy, blonde hair tumbled loosely past her shoulders.

Every detail of her appearance tonight had been chosen by Giovanni Galliardi himself. From the black lace underwear, to her dress and heels, everything came from him.

"Take off your clothes."

She nearly jumped at the sound of a voice coming from one side of the room. She tried to make out the figure seated near the French doors, but all she could see was a silhouette.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Carlotta pressed her lips together tightly. She was tempted to snap back and tell him she wasn't deaf. But any trace of rebellion within her, she chose to set aside. She wasn't in a position to argue or defy his order.

Slowly, she slid the dress's strap off her shoulder. As she did, she began to sway gently with the music. She wasn't as good a dancer as her best friend Belinda, but she could move well enough to keep time with the beat.

She let the dress slide down to her waist. If not for the growing impatience she sensed from the man watching her, she might've stalled longer. Because once the dress came off, her body was practically bare, left only in a pair of lace underthings. The bra she wore was no more than a flimsy mesh, offering the barest support to the twin swells of her breasts. While the matching V-string panty concealed almost nothing aside from slit.

"Drop it."

Carlotta was forced to let go of the dress and let it slid down her body.

"Touch yourself while you move."

She swallowed hard. Even if it was against her will, she did as she was told.

"Imagine you're making out with someone while you dance."

Someone?

Suddenly, an image formed inside her head.

What would it feel like if it were his hands moving over her skin? If it were his lips trailing over her body instead of her own hands?

A breathy gasp escaped from her lips as heat began to pool deep inside her. Her hands roamed teasingly—one gliding along her neck, the other down between her breasts, over her stomach, and lower still. All the while, her body swayed and rolled in a provocative rhythm. She was gyrating and undulating her hips like she was in a sexual act.

Ah, what's the point of being a renowned erotic writer like Calixta Monroe if she couldn't embody the bold and sensual characters she so vividly brings to life in her novels?

As her hips continued their slow, sinuous movements, she reached for the hook at the front of her bra. When it came undone, she turned around and tilted her head to the side, striking a seductive pose. She let the straps slipped down her arms, until it dropped to the floor.

A small voice inside told her to stop and just walk away. But she silenced it. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could leave that place.

"Turn around. I want to see you."

She inhaled deeply, then slowly pivoted toward the voice. She felt his gaze crawling over her bare skin. Her cheeks flushed, but she ignored it. She ran her fingers through her hair and rolled her hips enticingly. Then she trailed a hand along her cheek, down her neck, and over her breasts. She bit her bottom lip while touching and kneading her breasts.

In her mind, it was someone else's hands gliding over her skin. Someone else's fingers teasing the twin peaks of her breasts. Her own hands slid down the sides of her hips to remove the last remaining article of clothing.

But before she could, she heard his voice again:

"Leave it on. Get into bed and lie down."

Carlotta glanced at the bed he indicated. She didn't think twice. Despite the trembling of her legs, she walked toward it, carefully removing her stilettos before climbing on top. The bed was massive, large enough to fit six people with more space to spare.

She heard the sound of rustling clothes. He was undressing. Carlotta squeezed her eyes shut. She held her breath when she felt the bed dip under his weight beside her.

Even though she'd prepared herself for what was about to happen, her stomach was still churning with nerves.

She flinched when his hand brushed against her skin.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say, afraid of offending him. But the words stayed locked inside.

His hand grazed her face. She wanted to open her eyes, but the fear of recoiling at the sight of him kept them shut. His fingers traced a slow path down her neck. Moving along her skin, slowly gliding down between the curves of her breasts.

Carlotta's chest heaved softly with every deep breath she took. Despite herself, a heat started to burn between her thighs. His hand cupped one of her breasts and gave it a gentle squeeze, like he was testing... or observing? She could feel his gaze on her face, watching her reaction. After a while, she felt his lips on her other breast. She tried not to jerk away. As he suckled lightly, he massaged her breast. She stifled the gasp rising in her throat. Then he repeated the same on the opposite side—sucking, nibbling, fondling. She tried to stay passive, but failed.

Her toes curled. The growing moisture between her thighs was becoming impossible to ignore. Her body writhed. Then his lips left her nipple and began trailing kisses along the valley of her chest. Trailing up her neck, her ear, over her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose before claiming her lips for a kiss.

She kept her eyes shut tightly. But something about the way he kissed felt oddly familiar. Or was it just her imagination playing tricks on her?

Impossible.

His kiss was light, unhurried. As if testing the waters, waiting. When she parted her lips for air, his tongue brushed along her upper lip. Oddly enough, the simple touch sent a spark through her. When he slid his tongue between her teeth, she allowed him further access.

Before long, she was kissing him back with equal heat. As their lips remained locked in a burning kiss, his fingers slowly slid into her hair. His fingers combed through her unruly strands, massaging her scalp, rubbing her slender neck.

Ooh, it felt like heaven.

Slowly, Carlotta opened her eyes. She wanted to believe that a man capable of such gentleness couldn't possibly be as vile as Don Salvatorre's reputation suggested.

She blinked several times. For a brief moment, Carlotta wondered if it was merely the dim light around them playing tricks on her.

"Were you thinking about me while you touched yourself earlier?" the question came from a rough, familiar voice.

"Y-you?!"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"You're G-Giovanni Galliardi...?!"

"In the flesh."

She stared, stunned.

Should she be grateful... or furious?