Chapter 212

Zoe had chosen a daring crimson gown for her evening at the hotel. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed open the door to Room V809.

Darkness enveloped the space, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the flickering glow of scarlet candles scattered throughout.

Scarlet candles!

Her gaze swept over the intimate setup—a crystal decanter of burgundy wine, delicate pastries arranged on silver trays, and beside them, an extravagant bouquet of blood-red roses.

The air was thick with romance, making her knees weak.

Dominic had never shown this side before.

Anticipation curled in her stomach like a coiled spring.

Lifting the roses to her face, she inhaled deeply, the heady floral scent making her dizzy with desire.

She set them down carefully before checking her phone.

Nearly ten o'clock. Where was he?

Had traffic delayed him?

Fifteen more minutes crawled by with no sign of Dominic. A knot of unease twisted in her chest.

Was this some cruel joke?

He wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble just to stand her up, would he?

Or worse—had the text been meant for someone else?

Pouring herself a generous glass, she swirled the rich liquid before taking a slow sip.

Exquisite.

The wine was bold, intoxicating, just like the man she was waiting for.

By eleven, the door finally clicked open. A tall silhouette filled the doorway.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

In a heartbeat, she was across the room, arms wrapping around his broad frame. "I knew you'd come," she murmured against his chest, voice thick with wine and want. "The wait was agony, but you're here now..."

The man went rigid beneath her touch.

She didn’t notice, too lost in the moment to care.

Two glasses had erased all hesitation.

All she craved was him.

Dawn arrived with a brutal headache.

Blinking against the harsh morning light, Zoe took in the unfamiliar room as memories of the night before flooded back.

A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips.

Last night had changed everything between her and Dominic.

She’d never imagined things would escalate so quickly—or that he’d be so breathtakingly skilled.

Every touch had been deliberate, every whisper against her skin a promise. He’d shown her pleasures she’d only dreamed of.

Now, she was utterly, irrevocably his.

Turning her head, she studied the man beside her.

His back was to her, pale skin marred by faint scratches—marks she’d left in the heat of passion.

A possessive thrill shot through her.

She shifted closer, letting her bare leg brush against his.

"Hmm? Ready for round two?"

The deep, unfamiliar voice froze her blood.

That wasn’t Dominic.