POV: DIMITRI
Dimitri stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, a glass of scotch in hand, watching the sun set over the city he controlled. His city.
His empire. His world. And soon, his woman would walk through that door....desperate, aching, ready to break. He'd been hard since the video call this afternoon.
Since watching her finger herself in that office, surrounded by people who had no idea their boss was falling apart.
The power of it, the control, had been intoxicating. But it was nothing compared to what he had planned for tonight.
The elevator dinged. He didn't turn around. Just sipped his scotch and waited. He heard her footsteps...those expensive heels he'd bought her clicking against the marble...hesitant, uncertain.
"Strip," he said, his back still to her.
"Everything. Leave it by the elevator." Silence. Then the soft rustle of fabric. The click of heels being removed. The whisper of silk hitting the floor.
