Vivienne had always carried herself like a woman who knew the rules of elegance. A silk dress that skimmed her curves, laughter that floated above champagne glasses, and eyes that hinted at secrets only meant for the dark. To most, she was untouchable—refined, sophisticated, and too perfect to be cracked open.
But Enzo never saw her that way. To him, she was fire under glass, a dangerous heat waiting for someone ruthless enough to shatter the casing. And Enzo was nothing if not ruthless. He wasn't the man who bowed to charm; he was the man who made women bow to him. When Vivienne stumbled into his orbit, boundaries blurred, lines crossed, and her polished walls began to crumble.
What began as a game of wit and glances soon tangled into something rawer, darker, and primal. He wasn't here to worship her grace—he was here to break past it, to see what her lips, her breath, her very body could withstand when pushed to the edge.
And Vivienne, against every rule she once clung to, found herself gasping for him—gagged by his hunger, undone by his thickness, and ruined by the man she could no longer resist.
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