FIVE | THE ORGY FAIL

[POV: Sera]

"You have to give him head at the orgy tomorrow?" my sister Genevieve clapped her hands, entirely missing the panic in my voice. "You're going to love it! I thought your career was over!"

It was midnight. I had just found my cousin Victoria and delivered Milian's request. Victoria had practically sprinted back to her room to prep. But my stomach was tied in sickening knots. The idea of kneeling before Milian to perform while a dozen other naked, moaning people watched made me physically nauseous.

"What if I mess up? What if everyone watches?" I confessed to Genevieve.

"We are meant to be fucked, Sera, not loved. Stop pretending you're meant for some fairy-tale romance," she sneered, clicking off the lamp.

I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, haunted by the phantom warmth of Milian's lips and the ferocious way he stared at me. Deep down, I was terrified that his gentleness was real, and even more terrified that it meant absolutely nothing to him.

When the horrifying deadline arrived, I went through the motions out of sheer survival. I scrubbed my skin raw, plastered on heavy makeup, and slipped into a silk slip dress meant to be torn off.

The designated room was a dim, fragrant pit of debauchery. Limbs were already tangled on the velvet couches. My cousin was vigorously kissing another girl. Bianca—Milian's insufferable girlfriend—was getting her toes sucked by an eager servant.

I stood rigidly in the corner, fully dressed, feeling like prey in a wolf den.

Then, the heavy oak doors swung open. Milian entered.

The room's temperature seemed to spike. He exuded an unshakable, predatory arrogance. His stormy gaze swept over the writhing bodies, finally landing directly on me. He took a seat on the central couch and lazily crooked a single finger in my direction.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I practically crawled toward him, stopping at his feet next to Victoria. Victoria's wandering hands immediately clamped onto my thigh, trying to peel off my dress to speed up the show.

I shoved her hands away, planting my palms firmly on Milian's knees. He looked down at me, a dark, amused flicker in his eyes. The sheer intensity of his stare made me conscious of my heavy makeup. I slowly reached for his belt buckle, my hands shaking.

Suddenly, his large hands clamped over my wrists.

Did I do something wrong?

Without a word, Milian yanked me upward by my wrists, dropping me onto his lap. Before I could process the shift, his hand buried into my hair, and he crushed his mouth against mine. It wasn't a show for the crowd—it was desperate, consuming, entirely focused on me.

When he finally broke the kiss, I was gasping for air. He effortlessly scooped me into his arms, standing up.

"Milian! Where are you going?" Bianca shrieked from across the room, sitting up in outrage.

The room had gone dead silent. Everyone—my sister, my cousin, the other courtesans—stared in shock.

"I changed my mind," he stated coldly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don't feel like sharing today."

He turned his back on the room and walked out with me in his arms, his mouth already finding my neck again.