Chapter Twenty-Eight: Do Not Disturb

The “Do Not Disturb” sign hung from the handle like a quiet warning. Daniel stared at it for a moment, unsure if it was meant for him, or for everyone else.

But they had given him a key. So he didn’t knock.

He slid the card into the reader. The light blinked green. The door opened with a soft, mechanical click.

His heart beat louder than it should have.

The suite was just as lavish as he imagined, and tastefully opulent, with dark wood, velvet accents, and a view of the city framed in gold curtains. It was the kind of place senators and federal judges didn’t just stay in; they occupied it, like territory.

And there they were.

Still in their gowns from earlier, heels discarded, drinks in hand, draped across the living room like two queens entertaining a subject.

“Oh look at that,” one of them said. “He actually came.”

Daniel couldn’t tell which of them had said it.

“Guess we didn’t scare him off,” the other added.

Elena rose first.

With her heels off, she was smaller than he remembered, but nothing about her felt diminished. She carried herself with that quiet, practiced confidence Daniel remembered from the courtroom. The kind that told you she didn’t need to raise her voice to ruin you.

His eyes fell before he realized her dress was looser now, the neckline dipping, the soft curve of her cleavage more exposed. His gaze lingered too long.

Elena noticed.

She smirked. “Like what you see, Reyes?”

He opened his mouth, tried to form a word, failed.

“I—uh…”

“Cat’s got his tongue,” she teased.

Vivian stood next. The contrast between them was suddenly striking. Vivian was tall and willowy, every movement precise and honed. Elena, shorter, curvier, exuding a slower heat. One fire, one blade.

“Something else is going to have his tongue soon,” Vivian murmured, stepping into him without hesitation.

She kissed him.

No warning. No preamble. Just heat, breath, lips, and the undeniable sense that she’d kissed like this before, kissed like it was a weapon. Her tongue slipped past his, and one hand gripped the back of his neck, holding him firm.

When she pulled away, Daniel was breathless. Dazed.

“God,” he exhaled.

“Don’t get too excited,” she said, fingers sliding over his lapels with clinical precision. She guided him back until he hit the couch and sank into it. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

“But first,” Elena’s eyes glinted. She stepped forward, her fingers drifting to the zipper of her gown. “You’re going to enjoy the show.” Slowly, deliberately, she tugged it down.

The silk fell to the floor in a whisper, revealing crimson lingerie, a lace and satin thong, delicate yet bold.

Red, like command. Like danger. Like intent.

She stood tall even without her heels, back straight, chin lifted. Her body was mature, taut, unapologetically feminine, drew his eyes whether he wanted to look or not.

Her breasts, full and perfect, strained against the bra’s edge. She saw where his gaze landed.

And she smiled.

Vivian clicked her tongue, the sound sharp and amused. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Like Elena before her, Vivian’s hand found the clasp at the back of her gown. Slowly, deliberately, she loosened it, letting the emerald fabric slither down her body and puddle at her feet.

Daniel’s breath hitched.

Vivian was no less arresting than the judge, different, but no less commanding. Where Elena was curves and slow fire, Vivian was angles and precision, sleek and honed like a blade.

She wore black lace and silk lingerie that probably cost more than Daniel’s first car. The dark fabric was a striking contrast against her ivory skin and silver-blonde hair. A garter belt completed the look of the lace and silk bra and thong.

Her stomach was taut, and arms toned. She looked like an Amazon warrior preparing to either mate or kill.

Now we’ve given you a story to tell, Reyes,” Vivian said with a wicked smirk.

None of this had been planned. Not really. They had come to the gala expecting what everyone expected: dull speeches, watered-down whiskey, bad hors d’oeuvres, and even worse conversation. But then they had found him, an unexpected distraction worth rewriting the evening for.

Maybe Daniel needed this too.

After all he had spent years carrying the quiet burden of being good enough for Samantha, even if she’d never demanded it outright—m, years of chasing approval that always seemed just out of reach… maybe tonight was about something else entirely.

Elenas hands moved back to her hair, tying it back with expert precision, before dropping to her knees. “But first, I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time,” she ran her hands over his legs.

Vivian followed, sinking down beside her with a predatory elegance that made Daniel’s pulse hammer in his ears. Her hands found the waistband of his trousers, her fingers deft and deliberate.

“Don’t tell me you had a little crush on the counselor, Elena,” Vivian teased as she began to slowly unzip him.

“Oh, call it more professional curiosity,” she said.

Daniel didn’t argue.

Didn’t speak.

It was better this way.

Better to simply let the moment consume him.