Valeria surprises with her attitude

The silence on the deck of the Sirena became so thick that only the faint lapping of the water against the hull and the distant cry of a seagull could be heard. Matteo’s request, charged with a poorly disguised voracity, hung in the air like toxic smoke. Magi held her breath, paralyzed, waiting for a refusal—a sign from Valeria that this crossed a forbidden line.

But the sign never came.

Instead, Valeria, with a cold smile devoid of any emotion other than pure calculation, brought her hands to the nape of her neck. Her fingers, skillful and steady, untied the tiny knot that held the white triangles of her bikini. There was no hesitation or modesty; it was a clean, brutally professional gesture. The white top fell onto the teak table like an insignificant scrap of cloth. Immediately after, with the same naturalness as one would strip off a pair of gloves, she slid the bottom down her hips.

She stood completely naked under the sun, her body turned into a pale, perfect sculpture that defied not only Matteo, but any concept of decency. Her eyes, cold as steel, locked onto Magi’s. There was no complicity in that gaze, but a lethal challenge: "See? This is what is required. Are you up to the task?"

"Come on, Magda," Valeria said, her voice clear and sharp as glass. "Business is business. There is no room for shyness at this table."

The words were a lash. Magi felt every gaze concentrate on her, burning her skin. To refuse would be a catastrophic failure; it would be declaring herself useless, weak, and unworthy of Adrián’s trust. With a blank mind and a deafening hum in her ears, her fingers mimicked Valeria’s movements. The knot at her neck resisted for a second—a last act of organic rebellion—before giving way. The black top fell, following the white one. Then, the rest.

Suddenly, she was standing there, as exposed as Valeria. The sun warmed a skin that felt as if it had been flayed. The breeze, which had previously been a relief, now felt like a violent intrusion.

Matteo let out a guttural sound of approval as he raised his phone. Valeria, far from covering herself, struck a pose by the railing, arching her back with a model's practice and offering her body to the lens with a haughtiness that made it clear who was in control, even in total nudity.

"Move closer, Magda," Matteo ordered, framing the scene. "Let the team show."

Magi, moving like an automaton, stepped beside Valeria. The contact of her bare shoulder against the other woman's sent an electric shiver through her. In that moment, Valeria leaned toward her to adjust the pose, and her whisper reached Magi’s ear like a thread of ice:

"Relax, darling. This is how real deals are closed. With a demonstration that we have nothing to hide… and everything to offer."

The flash fired once, twice, three times. It captured the image of two naked women: one smiling with frigid superiority, the other with a face frozen in a mask of shock and submission. Matteo was not satisfied; he made them change angles—backs to the horizon, facing the city—as if their nudity were a trophy before civilization. At one point, he stepped closer and placed a large, hot hand on Magi’s bare waist. She suppressed a shudder of disgust; it was the physical seal of possession.

"This is worth more than any signature," Matteo murmured, lowering his hand with satisfaction. "This is the guarantee."

Finally, the session ended. Valeria began to dress with the same mechanical coldness. Magi imitated her, her trembling fingers struggling with the thin black strings. Dressing did not restore her dignity; it only reminded her of how fragile the veil was that separated her humanity from being a mere object of exchange.

As they disembarked, Matteo gave them a kiss on each cheek. "The contract will be ready tomorrow," he said, with the confidence of someone who has already collected his price. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you… in the most intimate way."

In the car on the way back, the silence was absolute. Valeria stared out the window, impassive. Magi shrank into her seat, feeling as if the nakedness were still clinging to her skin like an invisible stain.

"You did well," Valeria said at last, without turning. "In the end. Now you understand what this is about. It’s not about liking it or not. It’s about power. And power is exercised through submission. Today we submitted, but in doing so, we gained absolute control over him. Those photos are our insurance."

Magi did not respond. She only looked at her own hands, which would not stop trembling. Valeria could dress it up with words of strategy, but Magi only felt the vileness of the transaction. She had sold something priceless, and the void growing inside her told her that the return trip was not to Torres del Este, but to the epicenter of her own moral disintegration.