Pamela stepped into the apartment, the weight of the evening still lingering on her shoulders. The door clicked shut behind her, and before she could even take off her heels, Sophia launched herself from the couch, eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. “Oh my God, you’re back!” Sophia squealed, wrapping Pamela in a tight hug. “Tell me everything. Did he kiss you? Was it awkward? Did he trip on himself like last time?” Pamela laughed, shaking her head as she dropped her purse onto the coffee table. “No trips, thankfully. And no kiss-just a peck on the cheek.” Sophia gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. “A gentleman? In this economy?” She flopped onto the couch, patting the space beside her. “Details. Now.” Pamela sank into the cushions, kicking her feet up. “It was… nice. Really nice, actually. He brought me sunflowers.” “Sunflowers?” Sophia cooed. “That’s adorable. Did he remember you liked them, or was that a lucky guess?” “He remembered.” Pamela smiled faintly, trac
Pamela’s footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as she left the lecture hall, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and hurt. Richard hadn’t looked at her. Not once. Not when she walked past him, not when she lingered near the door, not even when she deliberately slowed her steps, hoping-just hoping-for a glance, a word, anything. But there had been nothing. The weight of it pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. Sophia was waiting for her outside, leaning against the brick wall with her arms crossed. The moment she saw Pamela’s face, her teasing smirk faded. “That bad, huh?” Pamela exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “He didn’t even look at me.” Sophia’s brows lifted. “Not once?” “Not once.” Sophia pushed off the wall and looped her arm through Pamela’s, steering her toward the parking lot. “Well, maybe that’s for the best.” Pamela shot her a look. “How is that for the best?” “Because it means he knows it’s over,” Sophia said simply. “And if he’s smart
Eleanor gasped into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders as he yanked her closer. Richard could taste the wine on her tongue, his own tongue tasting and crashing every corner of her mouth. She pulled back just enough to smirk. "Finally," she purred, her fingers fumbling with his belt. "The Richard I remember." Richard didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, he grabbed the neckline of her silk gown and tore it open. The fabric split like tissue, baring her body to him Her breasts were full and her nipples already hard. Eleanor's gasp with shock and arousal. "You bastard-" He silenced her with another rough kiss, his hands gripping her waist as he bent her over the dining table. Plates clattered to the floor, shattering on impact. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Richard growled, shoving her back until her bare breasts pressed against the cold table. His fingers found her underwear, tearing them away with a snap. "You want me to fuck you, like one
Richard's POV The city lights blurred past as Richard drove across the highway. The confrontation with Eleanor replayed in his mind-her words, her calculated seduction, the way she brought Pamela into all these mess. Eleanor's words still echoed in his skull. "Do you think she'll still look at you the same way now she knows what you really are?" A bitter laugh escaped him. Eleanor had won. The beach had always been his refuge-the one place where the crashing waves could drown out the voices in his head. But tonight, the thought of standing alone with the ocean's roar felt like surrender. He needed something else-something sharper. At the next intersection, he turned the wheel left without signalling and drive towards the flickering neon sign of The Drought. The bar was a relic from another era, the kind of place where the whiskey was cheap and no one asked questions. The bar was half empty, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and tobacco. Richard took a seat at the far end, w
On the drive home, all Richard could think about was Pamela and the fact that she knew who he was. The thought was a knife piercing him deeper and deeper with every mile he drove. He had seen it in her eyes-fear, betrayal, shattered trust. And Eleanor-his venomous wife, had been the one to wield the knife. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He has spent years trying to bury Viktor Petrovich, creating Richard Carter from the ashes of a life he no longer wanted. But ghosts didn't stay buried. Not when Eleanor was determined to dig them up. He arrived at his house and to his surprise, he saw the dining table dressed with dining clothes and candle light. On the table lay a big piece of steak with roasted potatoes and a bottle of wine. He couldn't remember the last time Eleanor prepared dinner. "This must be a trap." Eleanor stood by the table with her back to him. She was wearing a silk nightgown that slithered over her hips, hugging the ripe curve of her firm ass. She turn
Pamela woke up the next morning, her body still shaking from the remnants of the previous day. The morning light filtered through her curtains, casting long, accusing shadows across her room. For a moment, she lay still on the bed, her head going through the events of the previous day.Viktor Petrovich.The name slithered through her mind, cold and foreign. It didn't fit the man she knew-the man who had kissed her and fucked her like she was the only thing that mattered. The man who held her and promised her everything was going to be fine.But Eleanor's words echoed through her skull. "The Raven, The Butcher of Bratva."She had not yet completely accepted the whole thing, and worst of all, she had to attend his lecture this morning and she would definitely see him. The thought sent shivers down her spine. She dragged herself out of bed to the bathroom. The shower was scalding, the water biting into her skin as if it could scrub away the memory of his touch. She closed her eyes and re