They decide to get out of the water.

The water, previously a warm refuge, had become a heavy, treacherous substance. Magi's every movement beneath the surface felt like a monumental effort. Adrian swam around her with an unsettling calmness, his movements fluid like a predator circling its prey. The phone conversation had left a palpable tension in the air, a veil of distrust floating between them.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, Adrian stopped, leaning on the edge of the pool.

"Enough for now," he announced, his voice regaining some of the initial false cordiality, but with a hint of impatience. "Let's get out."

He stepped out first, water streaming from his expensive, clinging clothes.

Magi followed with slow movements. The act of exiting the water was the definitive exposure. She raised herself from the edge, her body completely naked and dripping, feeling the cold night air strike her skin with the **** of a shock. She crossed her arms over her chest immediately, hunching over herself in a **** attempt to cover up, a reflex of her deep modesty.

Adrian grabbed a short, white plush bathrobe with luxurious embroidery on the chest from a pile near the sofas. But instead of handing it to her, he held it open.

"Come," he said, in a tone meant to be casual but was a disguised order. "Don't just stand there, you'll freeze."

Magi froze. It was the last distance she had to cross, the final act of submission: advancing toward him, naked, so he could cover her. With her head bowed, she took the few steps separating them.

Adrian enveloped her in the robe. The thick, warm fabric was an immense relief against her cold, goosebumped skin. He did not step away immediately. He adjusted the belt with deliberate slowness, his hand brushing her hip and stomach before securing the tie—a gesture that could have been one of care, but that only felt like the culmination of his possession.

"That's better," he murmured, leaving his hand resting on her bare shoulder for a moment too long. "Now, let's go inside."

He guided her back through the glass door, into the luxurious interior of the penthouse. The contrast between the cold air of the rooftop and the artificial warmth inside made her shiver again. The short robe, while providing cover, barely reached the middle of her thigh, leaving her feeling **** and exposed, but at least not completely naked.

"Wait here," Adrian instructed, pointing to a white leather sofa that looked like it had never been used.

He disappeared for a moment into what Magi assumed was a bedroom and returned a moment later with a small towel for her hair and a glass containing an amber-colored liquid.

"Settle down and dry your hair. Drink this, it's cognac. It will warm you up," he said, offering her the glass and the towel.

Adrian went to another corner of the room and took off his soaked shirt, tossing it carelessly aside. Then he disappeared again to change.

Magi took the glass but only held it. She stood in the center of the room, wrapped in his robe, listening to Adrian's footsteps fade. The silence in the room was oppressive. She knew that "sitting down and warming up" was not a suggestion. It was preparation for whatever came next. And this time, there was no micro-implant to whisper orders, no Costa watching from the shadows. She was completely alone, at the mercy of a man whose patience was wearing thin and whose lust had been seasoned with a touch of suspicion. The plush robe, the only veil covering her, felt like the last and finest thread of her dignity, about to snap.