Chapter 6

The air in the wine cellar hung heavy and thick, saturated with the scent of aged oak, damp earth, and the sweet, fermenting breath of the barrels. It was a subterranean world, isolated from the clinking glasses and polite murmurs of the gala upstairs, a secret sanctuary carved into the bedrock of the estate. I sat on the low velvet ottoman in the center of the room, my silk dress hiked up to my waist, pooling around my hips like spilled milk. The only light came from a dozen beeswax candles scattered across the stone floor and atop the massive wooden casks, casting long, dancing shadows that made the space feel alive, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic heat. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone and skin, because he was watching me. He stood by the largest barrel, a tumbler of dark red wine in one hand, his eyes dark and predatory as they traced the curve of my spine and the swell of my ass. He hadn’t said a word for the last ten minutes, but the silence was louder than any command. He was waiting for me to give it