With a revealing dress

The glossy paper bag weighed like a brick in Magi's hand. Inside, folded with a precision that could only be the work of Costa or someone under her orders, she found a dress.

It was not dinner attire; it was a weapon.

It was a dress of intense, audacious red satin, so vibrant it seemed to pulse. The design was simple, almost minimalist, but the fabric and the cut made it a statement. It featured a deep halter neckline and a completely exposed back. The fabric was so fluid and fine that it would adhere to every curve of her body. Alongside it was a pair of black stiletto heels with an ankle strap.

But the most chilling part was not the dress itself. It was the absence of anything else. There was no bra, no panties, none of the lace lingerie she had worn the night before. The implication was clear, brutal: the dress was designed to be worn alone, directly against the skin.

It was a costume of lust. A uniform for the role she was expected to play: the daring, irresistible girl who accepts late-night invitations to luxury apartments.

Getting dressed was an act of self-denial. Every practical garment she removed—including her underwear—felt like she was burying Magi deeper and letting "Magda" emerge. The cold silk of the red dress against her skin made her shiver. When she moved, the fabric slid, leaving a sensation of exposed nakedness.

At precisely 20:30, the van was there. The journey to Torres del Este was silent. The driver, the same one as the night before, did not utter a word. Magi looked out the window, watching the city transform into a landscape of lights and glass, an alien world of wealth and privilege.

Adrian's penthouse occupied the entire top floor. The door opened before she could ring the bell. He was there, dressed in light linen trousers and a shirt open at the neck. He smelled of expensive cologne and success.

"Magda. Come in," he said with a wide smile, stepping aside to let her enter. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, pausing at the vibrant red of the satin that looked like a second skin. "I see you came... prepared."

The interior was as luxurious and impersonal as she had imagined: minimalist design, expensive furniture, abstract artwork on the walls. Everything screamed money, but no soul.

"Do you like it?" Adrian asked, pouring her a glass of white wine without waiting for her answer.

"It's... impressive," Magi murmured, accepting the glass but only wetting her lips. **** was the last thing she needed.

"The best part is upstairs," he said, taking her arm. "The rooftop. It has the best views of the city."

He guided her toward a spiral staircase of steel and glass that led to the upper level. As he opened the door, the night breeze, cool and charged with the city's energy, hit her face. The rooftop was an urban oasis: low sofas, a well-stocked bar, and, in the center, an infinity pool whose dark waters seemed to merge with the starry sky.

"Do you like to swim?" Adrian asked, walking toward the pool and looking at the water.

"No... I didn't bring a swimsuit," Magi replied, feeling the panic begin to creep up her throat. This was a trap. She knew it.

Adrian chuckled, a soft and dangerous sound.

"That's not a problem here." He turned to her, his smile now a lewd, open thing. "The rules here are... different. More free." His gaze settled on the red dress.

Magi felt the floor moving beneath her feet. He wasn't just suggesting it, he expected it.

"I don't know..." she stammered, taking a step back. "It's cold."

"The water is heated," he countered, stepping toward her. "And I'll warm you up afterward." He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Come on, Magda. Last night you showed me your daring side. Don't let me down now."

Magi held her breath. Costa's voice in her head was silent. There were no orders for this, no protocol. She was completely alone, facing a predator in his territory, wearing the one garment her own superior had **** her into.

"Adrian, I..." she began to say, desperately searching for an excuse, a way out.

But her voice sounded weak and broken, and he only smiled wider, taking her hesitation as flirtation.

"Shhh," he whispered, moving closer. "Relax. It's just a swim." His hand moved from her cheek to her shoulder, sliding over the satin of her exposed back. "Take it off. It'll be much more comfortable for swimming."

Magi froze, trapped between the cold night sky, the dark water of the pool, and Adrian's hungry smile. The suggestion of stripping completely was more direct, more brutal than the expectation of ruining the fabric. The red dress felt like a prison, but also like the last veil between her and complete humiliation. And she knew, with a terrifying certainty, that she was going to have to make an immediate decision.