Kyan pushed the door open after whispering a dozen silent prayers under his breath.
Click.
His eyes scanned the interior—and his jaw dropped.
Ropes. Chains. Red velvet walls. A huge bed with cuffs on every corner. Even the lights looked sinful.
"What the actual hell," he muttered, stepping in slowly. "Is this a movie set or a damn dungeon?"
He scoffed, clutching the sheer fabric of the ridiculous outfit tighter around his waist. "I swear if this client thinks I'm gonna bark or crawl or something—"
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Kyan froze.
Then a deep voice spoke.
"Still got that filthy mouth, Softie?"
Kyan spun around instantly—heart hammering.
A tall man stood in the shadows, masked in black.In nothing but a black suit.
But that voice… that voice was too familiar.
His lips parted slightly, confused. "Wait… what?"
The man stepped forward slowly, his presence filling the room.
