The velvet walls of the Lotus Room seemed to pulse in time with Liam's heart.
The silence wasn't empty; it was heavy with the gravity of a hundred unspoken rules and the sheer enormity of who was sitting in front of him.
Elena Ashford.
A woman who could buy and sell his entire future without checking her bank balance.
Elena Ashford didn't just move.
She executed a maneuver.
It was a deployment of peak genetic assets, a strategic reallocation of her presence from the edge of the bed to the center of his world.
The white faux-fur rugs didn't just cushion her; they yielded, sinking beneath her knees as she advanced with a predatory slow-motion grace.
Her breasts, massive, pale, and seemingly unbound by gravity—swayed with a heavy, rhythmic momentum.
They were globes of soft, ivory power that seemed to distort the very air around them, creating a private orbit that Liam was being sucked into.
Liam's breath hitched.
