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Confession No. 91: The Gilded Cage
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2025-09-22 01:49:28
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Wet Confessions Confession No. 92:The Mafia’s Debt
The debt was written in numbers, but it was collected in flesh.Sofia’s father had whispered warnings all her life about men like him. Men who wore suits sharper than knives, whose shadows stretched longer than the law itself. Yet here she was, standing in the lion’s den, the scent of cigar smoke and leather thick in the air, as the mafia boss leaned back in his chair and looked her over like she was already his.“Your father is a careless man,” he said, his voice low and velvet dark. “But his greatest mistake wasn’t gambling away money. It was offering me the one thing I can’t buy.”Sofia swallowed hard, her pulse hammering. “And what’s that?”His eyes burned into hers, cold and hot at the same time. “You.”The words sank into her bones, a chain she couldn’t shake off. She hated the shiver that ran through her, hated that a part of her wondered how it would feel to be touched by hands that could both destroy and protect.This was no deal. This was a sentence.And yet, as his gaze dra
Wet Confessions Confession No. 91: The Gilded Cage
The cage was not iron, but gold.Velvet curtains draped the windows, silks spilled across the bed, and jeweled lamps cast their glow on walls painted with scenes of gods and wars. To anyone else, the chamber would have looked like a palace. To her, it was a prison.They had stripped her of freedom and cloaked her in luxury, every necklace another shackle, every jewel another chain.The door opened with the sound of steel sliding against steel. He entered the man who never removed his gloves, who carried command in every step. His presence filled the chamber like smoke, suffocating yet impossible not to breathe in.“You will eat,” he said, his voice a low command rather than an offer. He set a silver tray upon the table, the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine filling the air.“I am not your pet,” she answered, her chin lifting, though her wrists trembled where silk ropes had once bitten into her skin.His gaze lingered, unreadable, before he spoke again. “No. You are leverage.” He
Wet Confessions Confession No. 90: Blood and Silk.
The Guardian in ShadowsThe palace slept beneath velvet skies, every tower washed silver by the pale moonlight. Yet her chambers never felt empty, not while he lingered in the corner shadows. The vampire knight her sworn protector stood silent, watchful, carved from night itself.Princess Serenya should have been used to it. He had been assigned to her since her betrothal was announced a living sentinel with eyes too sharp, too hungry, too aware. His armor gleamed faintly, but it was not steel that made her pulse quicken. It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching.That gaze lingered. Always.She felt it now, brushing against her bare shoulders as she sat before her vanity. The silks of her nightgown whispered against her skin, far too thin under the weight of his stare. The crown’s heir was meant to be untouchable, sacred, a vessel of duty yet in the stillness of midnight, she swore his eyes stripped her of every title until she was only woman.“Do you ne
Wet Confessions Confession No. 89: Silk and Sin.
The First SinThe queen’s chambers were a prison of velvet. Heavy drapes muffled the storm outside, gold embroidery glittered in the dim light, and a jeweled crown lay discarded on the vanity a symbol of power that felt more like a shackle.She sat at the edge of her bed, silk gown pooling at her feet, her hands folded too tightly in her lap. Her husband’s footsteps had long faded into the opposite wing of the palace, where concubines and wine dulled his nights. She was queen in title, ghost in truth.The knock came low, insistent, urgent.Her heart skipped. It wasn’t his rhythm. It wasn’t the king.For a moment, she considered silence. To answer was to invite danger. To refuse was to keep suffocating.“Enter,” she whispered.The door opened, and there he stood. Not merely a knight her knight. The one sworn to her guard, to her safety, to her name. His armor gleamed faintly in the candlelight, but it was his eyes that undid her. They burned too fiercely, as though the weight of his
Wet Confessions Confession No. 88: Velvet Chains.
The Rain in the LibraryThe storm had scattered the palace gardens into chaos. Branches cracked against the glass atrium, rain lashed the stone like a hundred impatient fists, and the guards abandoned their posts to seek shelter from the wind’s fury. She hadn’t meant to end up inside the royal library. The truth was simpler: she was lost.A servant wasn’t supposed to linger here. Not among the towering shelves of leather-bound tomes and gilded spines that smelled faintly of dust and history. Yet here she was, clutching her shawl against her soaked dress, droplets of rain leaving a forbidden trail on the marble floor.Then she heard it the low scrape of a chair against stone.Her heart stuttered.He was there.The crown prince. Not in his throne room or with his advisors, but here half in shadow, a book abandoned in his hand. His dark eyes found her immediately, sharp as a blade unsheathed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just looked at her as if she’d trespassed into his mind, not mer
Wet Confessions Confession No. 87: The Stepbetrothal The Welcome
The estate was larger than anything she’d ever seen. White stone pillars, velvet carpets, chandeliers dripping light like captured stars. Her mother had called it a fresh start. To her, it felt more like a gilded cage.She was unpacking in the guest room no, her room now when the doorframe darkened.He stood there. Broad-shouldered, tailored shirt rolled at the sleeves, eyes sharp as cut glass. Older, colder, exuding the kind of confidence that made the air shift around him.He didn’t knock. He didn’t smile.“Welcome home, little bride.”Her laugh came too quickly, brittle around the edges. “Funny. You must be what my new stepbrother?”He stepped inside, slow and deliberate, closing the door behind him with a soft click that made her pulse jolt.“You don’t understand yet, do you?” His voice was low, steady, dangerous. “You’ve been mine since before you were old enough to know what that meant.”She froze, clutching the sweater she was folding. “Excuse me?”He came closer, each stride m
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