Nicoles phone rings

The jarring vibration of her smartphone on the glass coffee table shattered the tension. Nicole jumped, clutching the robe shut. The screen flashed a name that turned her blood to ice: *Mr. Jefferson*.

"Your boss? At this hour?" Daniel asked

"I have to take this," she said, sliding off the sofa.

She retreated into the kitchen, the linoleum biting cold beneath her bare feet. She pressed the phone to her ear, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Hello?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Nicole," Jefferson's voice boomed, stripped of professional courtesy. "I was thinking about our next meeting."

Nicole closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cold granite of the counter. "It's Sunday evening, sir. And we did this thing today."

"I don't care what day it is. Listen carefully. When you walk through those office doors on Monday morning, I want you devoid of any underwear. No lace, no cotton, nothing between your legs but the air and your dress."

Nicole's breath hitched, a sudden, sharp heat blooming between her thighs.

"Please, I can't—"

"Do not negotiate," he snapped. "One slip, one peek of a waistband, and those videos of you and me find their way to John's inbox. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go back to your husband. I'll be waiting for the view."

The line went dead. Nicole stood frozen, the silence of the kitchen echoing the thud of her pulse. Daniel appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a knowing smirk.

"Everything okay with the boss?"

"He just... wanted to go over some schedules," she lied, unable to meet his eyes.